Page 205 of Swallow Your Sorries

“It’s okay to be scared,” Gant says, swiping a lock of my hair away from my face.

Is that how I look? Scared?

“I’m not scared,” I lie.

“Okay, baby.” He says it so quietly. So gently to not poke the beast.

Baby?

It’s just pretend.

Don’t get too comfortable.

Don’t reach for the white foundation. The red lipstick. The blue eyeshadow.

My stomach lets out an audible gurgle that sounds like a toilet desperately trying to flush.

Gant grins wickedly before kissing my stomach and reaching under my bed for the black box of panties he’d bought.

How did he know…

How long had he been in the room before slipping into the shower?

“Let’s go to the hall. You need to eat,” he says, and before I can blink, he’s pushing me back onto the mattress and pulling my feet through a pair of silky, plum-coloured boyshorts.

Let’s?As inlet us?

No. New alliance or not, I couldn’t be seen with him in the dining hall. That would dismantle my plan with Beaussip to out him.

But the new contract…

Maybe she won’t run the article if I beat her to the punch? It could be a good thing. The new treaty…the lessons…the closure with the car.

But that video is the only backup plan I have. If I spoil it…

My phone pings and my stomach sinks into my ass until I see it’s a missed call from a private number and not Beaussip, the only other person that contacts me these days since Mum’s gone ghost. Could it be Mum? Had she lost her phone and decided to borrow someone else’s? I tried calling her twice this morning, but it went straight to voicemail.

But why is their number private?

“I’m not hungry,” I say as he slides the panties up my waist, hooking them along my hip ridges, before flipping me onto my side like a rag doll to inspect my ass that’s falling out the bottoms.

I jump at the feeling of his tongue tracing the swells, then the creases, and damn near moan in frustration the second he stops.

“I want you to eat,” he says, rolling me onto my back again. “It’s my fault you haven’t been eating properly. My fault your new leotards barely fit.” He nods at the box Mum had sent me, still tucked away in the corner. I’d worn a new set to the auditions, but I’ve been too nervous to put them on for any of the other classes yet. Nervous about soiling them, even though they’re made for that precise reason. For sweat and fallen hairs.

Maybe Gant had a point about me. About me not feeling like I deserved things.

“I’ll eat, just not right now. I…need to call my Mum,” I say, pointing at the phone. Or not Mum and if it’s not Mum, who could it be?

“You can call her after you’ve eaten. She’ll understand that you need to eat, won’t she?” he asks, his voice suddenly chilly.

Am I just imagining it, or does the sheer mention of the word ‘mum’ trigger downright hatred within him? Is it because he’s lost his, that he seems to despise mine? But he doesn’t know Mum. She’s a complete stranger.

“It’s important.”

My stomach rumbles again.

“Not more important than taking care of yourself.”

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