Page 44 of Even Robots Die
I need to forget it was ever a thought. Hell, I can’t forget that I forced her to work for me. That I didn't give her a choice. That I’m preventing her from seeing her family.
Or maybe, just maybe, I should think about the fact that she’s probably the age of my daughter.
Weirdly, the fact that I’m broken and wouldn’t be able to give her much of whatever a relationship is made of—hello emotionally stunted brain and unresponsive cock—is the last thing that crosses my mind, and that’s when I know I’m completely fucked.
I haven’t been able to feel much of anything since I woke up after my imprisonment, and yet the first thing my broken brain decides to cling to is obsession.
Talk about things half done.
I’m not even talking about the fact that the object of my obsession probably thinks that I’m an old asshole that needs to go fuck himself—her words, not mine.
So why am I even organizing this meal?
I’m still wondering when I knock on her door after taking a shower and getting dressed.
“Oh,” Florentine says when she opens the door and I immediately see what made her react this way.
I’m wearing dark jeans and a black button-up shirt since we’re going out and I wasn't going to go in one of my technical outfits, but her? She’s wearing one of those large shirts she ordered from my account two days ago and shorts that are so tiny that they barely peek from under the hem of the shirt.
I don’t think she realized we are going out. I probably should have made myself clearer.
As it is, she closes the door in my face and I hear nothing, and then I hear her shuffle things inside before she opens again.
She’s replaced her former outfit with a flowery summer dress that clings to her curves like a second skin on the top and then flares at her hips. The neckline of it gives me an unobstructed view of her ample cleavage. My holo vibrates as I look at her—more like I devour her with my eyes—and I just know that it’s the notification that tells me she just bought this dress.
Because I know there was nothing like this in the closet that I set for her.
I don’t even look at my holo because right this instant, I don’t care how much this dress cost—and truly any other day I wouldn’t care either—all I care about is the fact that I have all the struggle in the world keeping my eyes on her face.
Something stirs inside of me, and …
What the hell?
I feel myself tense inside my pants and I immediately regret forgoing underwear when I dressed.
My body has the worst timing ever to wake up again.
If I had any doubt about how messed up they’ve made me, this is it.
Between the obsession and the new feelings in my pants, I really feel fucked up.
This is what I earn for being nice and making sure Florentine takes a little care of herself.
This promises to be a long night.
”You should have warned me,” she tells me as she steps out of her room. “Where are we going?”
I can’t help but appreciate the dress she picked and I almost forget to answer her.
“Just a few streets down,” I finally answer her when I manage to let my eyes stray from her curves. It’s not that I didn’t see them—or appreciated them—in her usual attire, but it’s like something inside of me shifted tonight and I can’t shake the feeling that it might be an important moment.
Why? I have no clue, but I'm not going to question it because for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m hungry, and it’s not only about food.
Maybe it’s the beginning of my healing.
Who knows?
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