Page 43 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
David steps into the elevator first, still wearing that practiced smile like it’s stitched to his face. “Follow me for a view to die for.”
What else can I do? I follow and watch as he presses the button for the roof.
The rooftop is mostly dark—glowing fairy lights around the perimeter, but no heaters, no music. No people. Just the cool wind knifing through my gown and the kind of silence that presses against your skin. I wrap my arms around myself. It is beautiful up here, to be fair to him. “It’s lovely up here. Thanks for the view. We should be going?—”
David walks to the edge of the roof, right up to the railing, and stares out over the city like it belongs to him.
I don’t follow, preferring distance. “Alright. You’ve got one more minute.”
He turns around slowly. “I used to imagine this. You in a dress like that. At a party like this. Standing next to me.”
“You’re not standing next to me,” I say.
His smile flickers. Then fades. “I gave you everything, Bailey.”
“You gave me bruises and trauma. The only thing you gave me worth anything is Maeve and Eli. Don’t rewrite history.”
“I made you,” he snaps. “I supported you. I gave youstructure.”
“No,” I say, stepping back. “You gave me cages. And pain I’m still unpacking in therapy.”
He steps forward. I step back. The wind gusts again, hard this time, and my heels scrape across the rooftop tile. He’s too close. He sees it.
“You’re scared,” he murmurs. A sneer forms over his face.
“I’m careful, because I am not a moron and my memory works just fine.”
“No,” he says. “You’re not a moron. But still came up here…” He steps even closer.
My back hits the railing. I didn’t realize how close I was to the edge. Shit. I grip it hard, metal cold and sharp beneath my fingers. “What are you doing, David?”
He leans in, voice low. “You’re going to walk back down there with me, smile for the cameras as we head for my car and pretend none of this ever happened. And then we will go to my house and talk things out the way we should have before you called a lawyer.”
My stomach sinks. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re one headline away from losing everything. And I still know exactly how to write it. So you will obey, like the good little submissive I know you can be.”
“I will not,” I growl at him.
“You’re mine, Bailey. You’ve always been mine?—”
“Get the fuck away from me, David!” My voice cracks. I hate it, but I can’t help it.
He smirks at that. “Aw, see? There she is. The girl I trained up into a woman on her knees. That tremble in your tenor, the weakness in your body. Fragile for me. Breaking for me. Always for me.”
I snap, “Fuck you!”
His hand rears back to slap me.
But this time, I don’t cower. I stand tall. Jut my chin up. He might hit me, but I will not fucking shrink from him. Never again.
And all that superiority drains from his face. His hand lowers slowly. “Who?”
“What?”
“Who did this to you?”
“The fuck are you talking about?”
