Page 18 of Surrender

She didn't enter into this arrangement willingly, whether there's a sexual aspect or not, and I don't get off on that kind of control.

I thought I was helping. I thought I was being a good guy. But am I? Or am I just another asshole controlling every aspect of her life?

But maybe I'm not.

Chapter twelve

Serenity

Istare at the closet full of clothes. I stare at the dresser full of undergarments. I stare at the new phone, tablet, and laptop, all still in their shiny new boxes on top of the dresser. I stare at the bazillion creams and lotions, and I don't even know what else on the bathroom counter.

Vivek apparently bought smaller sample sizes of every scent of lotion, bodywash and shampoo. I think I'm supposed to pick one and tell him so he can buy me full sizes?

The entire situation makes my skin itch like it's two sizes too small. I mentally tally up how much everything must cost, but I'm completely guessing, because I've never seen these brands of lotions or undies or clothes in any of the stores I shop in.

I had seen the clothes and changes when I walked to the bathroom earlier after we got home...got tohishome...but I mentally could not process it all. And if I can't see it, it doesn't exist. After my shower, where I used the brown sugar body wash, I towel dry and head back into the bedroom.

I smell like a sugar cookie.

At the foot of the bed is one of Declan's undershirts and a pair of his boxers. Just like last night.

Something about that routine settles me and makes me feel better than the thousands of dollars in silk pajama outfits I'm sure are here somewhere.

I put on the shirt and boxer-briefs, but the closet behind me seems overwhelming and oppressive. Like it's looming over me, demanding attention.

I roll back my shoulders and walk barefoot into the walk-in closet, flicking on the custom lighting.

The closet isn't completely full, but dresses, and pantsuit looking things, and skirts, and blouses have filled the racks in order of color.

It's thoughtful. And kind. And it makes me nauseous.

I don't understand what's happening here. My teeth grind as my lips purse. What kind of man buys a complete stranger a entire new wardrobe? One in every color in case I don't like something? I guess his personal shopper did that because I didn't give him astyleto go by?

Besides our moment after he freaked out on me this morning, he's been standoffish, grouchy, grumbly. I feel like he hates me, or if he doesn't hate me, he barely tolerates me. But then he leaves his shirt for me to sleep in and spends thousands of dollars on clothes for me. I'd have been happy with a couple outfits from Walmart. Just something to cover the important bits in public?

This rainbow-coordinated closet glares back at me menacingly. I hate it. Logically, I'm grateful for the thought behind it? That someone is willing to spend that much on me. But personally it feels like an attack. I know I don't deserve this kind of treatment. I've done nothing for him to warrant this kind of treatment. Is it pity? Is it a trick? Something rich people do?To dangle everything a poor person could never hope to dream of in front of them only to snatch it away at the last second?

Or am I a charity case? The homeless orphan that he can parade in front of his friends for congratulations and social clout.

My mother never trusted anyone with money. She'd make snide comments about them all being back stabbing cheats.

Sighing, I shut off the light and close the closet door behind me. I stand back in my new room...his room...that I'm borrowing...and look at the made bed in front of me. It's got a beautifully designed duvet, sporting a scene of people on horseback jumping over fences in a rolling countryside.

Yeah, I'm not sleeping tonight. Everything is so different. It's the lack of city noise, the lack of musty smell. Everything is too clean, too pretty, too perfect. I don't belong. I don't want to soil them with my dirty hands.

"If you need something... if you can't sleep, I need you to come to me. No more running, no more hiding."

I groan, closing my eyes and rolling my head back. He'd said that only a few hours ago. But could I really do that?

"Hey there, so your house is too nice, and too quiet, and the clothes you bought me are too expensive, so I can't sleep."

What an ungrateful ass I'd sound like. I'll just pace the floor until I'm tired... or just not sleep.

I need you to come to me.

I growl in frustration, running my hands through my hair.

He didn't say Iwantyou to come to me. He said Ineedyou to come to me.

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