Page 136 of Feed Your Fiends

A whip of white sails toward me, and I catch the towel, wrapping it around my body and gripping it for dear life.

Why hadn’t I grabbed something from the closet? Sure, I didn’t want anything from these lunatics touching me, but was this any better? Why the fuck am I so stupid?

My face overheats, burns at his words, at his eyes that had lingered on my nipples and fallen to my pussy when he saidred hair.

He’d…he’dseenme, seen what I swore was his son’s just last night.

‘It won’t be too hard to turn her into your bitch, your little pet, or whatever your heart desires.’

Gant was passing me off like a doll he was sick of playing with and to his father, of all people. Panic floods my veins as I step back. “I-I didn’t know you were here.”

Why the fuck am I answering him? Leave!

But I feel like I can’t as I spot the door handle in my peripheral. I feel dwarfed by this nearly naked man, but it’s not just his physical appearance that’s freezing me in place. There’s something in the room, in the air, that he’s recycling. I could just reach out and open the door, but something’s telling me that I can’t. That he’s locked it with his dark eyes.

Atrance…he’s casting a trance over me.

“You didn’t? Gant said we were supposed to meet at the field.”

“I-I mean, I knew you werehere; I just meant not uphere.”

“In my penthouse?”

I can’t see myself, but I know I can’t possibly turn any redder, yet my face burns with a thousand suns.

“In my room?”

He steps forward, and his toes catch on my panties halfway under the bed. He bends to pick them up and stretches them over his thumbs just like Heldina had with Rin’s thong, but instead of pure disgust, he zones in on the gusset curiously. I watch in horror as he rubs his thumb over it like it’s sticky, damp, and slick.My slick. His son’s girlfriend’s slick.

Gant’s words come rushing back to me:‘whatever your heart desires.’

He’d told me he didn’t like to share. But that doesn’t include Bart. Bart Auclair is the exception to every rule.

Run.

But my feet are rooted to the spot.

“I think you’re lying. I think you came to my room, in my penthouse, to see me,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at the bed.

Now that he’s broken eye contact, I can move, but the second I step toward the door, I see what his wandering eyes are staring at because it’s not the sheets themselves. The green folder. It’d fallen out of my purse when I’d tossed it onto the mattress. Half of the papers are sticking out, namely pictures of Silas’s Packard.

“Is this for me?” he asks, opening the folder.

Don’t look into his eyes.

Don’t look…

And….don’t leave.

I don’t know where the thought comes from.

You’ve come this far. He’s seen the files. Tell him what you’ve found and demand what you deserve. Because don’t you deserve years of financial stability for all this fuckery?

Forget your tears. Forget Gant’s words. Forget your feelings because feelings are fleeting. Money isn’t if you know how to spend it.

“Yes,” I say, finally able to speak as the imaginary hand gripping my throat slackens. “You’re right. I did want to see you. I had a package for you.”

His dark eyes shine brighter as he skims the words, the photos, and the demand letter Rin had typed out for me. “And to think I thought you were presenting your cunt to me, but this is so much better.”

---