Page 54 of Reckoning

He drops his gaze, staring at my breasts hungrily. “You want the truth?” He asks.

I nod quickly.

“Every night since you moved here. But I didn’t touch you, not at first, but you’re so hard to resist, Sofia. You’re so hard to turn down.”

The way he says it is like I’ve been seducing him. Like I’m some sort of temptress. That I’ve beguiled him, tricked him when I know I haven’t done any such thing.

I can practically see the red flags flapping in front of me.

This man is dangerous.

Ben stated it.

My brother stated it.

Hell, the entirety of Verona knows it. But I don’t care. I don’t give a fuck. I’m tired of being this caged up little thing, I’m tired of being afraid of my own shadow. I want to be reckless, I want to be hedonistic. And besides, in the confines of this room, no one would even know, would they? Maybe this is my rebellious stage, maybe I’m a masochist. My father kept me virtually imprisoned for my teenage years, too ashamed to let me out in public. Surely it’s natural to want to assert my own independence now that I have the chance?

I sink back into the pillows. Meeting that demanding gaze. “Then I guess we’ll have to continue these lessons of yours.”

He reacts like I’ve just granted him the world. His eyes darken like he really is the devil incarnate.

And then to my surprise he just gets up, walks out, like he’s done the task he set out to achieve.

I grab a robe, though why I have no idea, and I race down the stairs, race after him. Only he’s long gone. Will he come back tomorrow? Will be back every night from now on? Is this how we’ll be, should I dress up? Order new underwear?

Fuck, my head feels so confused.

The orgasm he gave me is still making everything spin. I want another. I want him to keep doing that to me. And yet there’s a voice already whispering in my head that I’m doing it again, being reckless, being stupid. I’m jumping without properly thinking through the consequences, and just like last time I’m going to get burnt.

Sofia

The city is whizzing past us. I catch glimpses of it. Momentary flashes. I know I’m downtown, that my house is still a way off and my stomach knots, though it has no reason to.

Otto has been staring at his phone, furiously typing away as if something has happened but I don’t want to ask what. It feels like he needs space. He feels like a damned bomb about to go off and I have no idea what to do about it. How to manage him.

And then he snarls, tosses the thing into the footwell, and turns his entire focus on me.

It’s hard not to flinch. It’s hard to stay still when I feel like a deer caught in the headlights.

Some days it takes everything I have to continue this charade, to tell myself that what we’re doing is the right thing. If Otto realises what I’m really up to, I don’t doubt he won’t hesitate to snap my neck.

“You look stunning tonight.” He says dropping his gaze and I don’t need to look down to know he’s staring at my chest.

I chose this dress carefully. I choose all my outfits very carefully. It’s a fine line between showing him what he “could” have and not compromising myself. Tonight I’m wearing a Herve Leger dress. It’s tight, really tight, to the point I wasn’t actually able to eat all that much, which annoyed me because the food was incredible. The purple was bright enough to gain attention, but then, me being me, and Otto being Otto guaranteed all eyes would be on us.

He leans in, closing the distance that I’ve tried to maintain. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. Though we shared a bottle of wine with our meal, he seems far drunker than he should be.

His hand twists in my hair, he pulls my face down and I meet his lips for a sloppy kiss. I try to act like I’m enjoying it. I try to pretend that he’s what I want – a man technically old enough to be my grandfather.

His other hand snakes under my dress. I jerk back, all but slamming into the car door.

“Just a taste.” He says, moving once more, invading what little space I have left.

I shake my head. “I told you…”

“I know, I know. You don’t believe in sex before marriage.” He says dismissively. “But I’m not asking you to fuck me, what I’m asking for is just a taste.”

“Otto,” I begin but his hand smacks into the glass, silencing me. I flinch but there’s nowhere to go.

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