Page 41 of Pretty Pink Poison
“Whatever the fuck you want to make him stop. Or I’ll stop him permanently for you.” In someone else’s mind, this would have been romantic, but I knew Bane was just protecting the family name like always.
I waved him off and murmured, “Whatever.” My robe fell off my shoulder and his gaze lasered in on the bare skin for two seconds before he walked right up to me so that we were chest to chest. The penthouse door swung closed behind him and we were all alone as he hooked a finger in the robe and dragged it back up my shoulder, but his finger danced across my shoulder bone while he murmured, “Why do youstilllook like you’re losing weight?”
“Wh-what?” I stuttered out.
“Why do you look like you’re skin and bones?” His anger was almost palpable with the question. “You eat in front of me. We monitor your meals and give you supplements. What the fuck am I doing wrong?” He voice cracked low, almost mumbling to himself like he was disgusted for missing something. “I check every single day. Why do you look like you’re wasting away?”
I swallowed hard. He wasn’t wrong—I’d gotten very good at hiding it. I didn’t want to tell him the truth: that bread made my stomach fold in on itself, that certain dinners left me doubled over, that sometimes my chest would lurch and my vision would gray if I stood too fast. I’d learned how to make myself presentable, but at a cost.
“You don’t tell me about your father and now this. You’re hiding something again. What aren’t you telling me?” His eyes drilled into me like he could pry the secret out with force.
“Bane, you’ve been drinking and—”
“Don’t.” He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to stop the spinning in his head. “Spare me the lie, Pink. I’m too damn tired to deal with it.”
“Then don’t ask.”
“Or just tell me the damn truth.”
“I don’t eat the meals you send. I hate them,” I blurted, voice small and raw. “That’s not going to show up just because the nurse comes and checks my blood pressure.”
His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. “So you’re playing games with your well-being and with me?”
“No. I’m not playing games with you. I’msurvivingyou,” I shot back, though my voice wavered.
“Surviving? I send catered meals up every damn day.”
“You send meals up, Bane? I hate eating alone. And half of it is of shit I don’t want to eat!”
“Are you kidding me right now? I agonize over that stupid menu of yours.” His mouth twisted, caught somewhere between fury and disbelief.
“Youagonize over it?”
He waved me off like he couldn’t stand me trying to piece him together. “You like the food, Bianca. I’ve known you most of your life. I’ve memorized what you eat. I know your favorites.”
“I have different tastes now.” I crossed my arms. Maybe some of my food avoidance did have to do with spiting him, but it also had to do with my gluten intolerance.
“You’d rather waste away rather than just ask for something else? You’ve never once requested another meal.” He had the audacity to look concerned. I knew it wasn’t genuine—it was obsession with the control slipping through his fingers. To Bane, nothing was supposed to get past him. Not in his resort. Not under his radar. Not when his family had built a system where even my blood belonged to him.
“Request something else?” He had to be kidding. “I was never told I could order more food or leave the room to get more. The security detail doesn’t let me leave and I have no way of calling room service. So I figured—” My voice was shaky.
“You figured what? That I’m intentionallystarvingyou?” I didn’t respond at first, but then he looked downright lethal when he prompted. “Answer me.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been starved for punishment.”
His eyes widened as he seemed to realize the situation. “So what your father was doing at dinner…” It all dawned on him. “I should have taken his fucking head there tonight too.” It wasn’t a question but rather a statement.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t beg him for food, and I won’t beg you.” In fact, I sat there in silence to prove I didn’t need anything from him.
“Fuck, baby girl.” His old nickname twisted my insides up and tangled all my emotions into something I shouldn’t feel as he brushed his knuckles across my cheek. “Your stubbornness is beautiful, but it’s verging on unhealthy. I’m not him… You know that right?”
I didn’t answer and he took a breath. I saw his anger building; saw the small tap of his finger three times against his slacks like he was trying to bring himself back down.
Then, he stated, “He starved you then.” It was for him to catalog out loud, not for me to agree. He already knew it was the truth. “And what else, Bianca? I want a list.”
Of course he wanted a list. The man was obsessed with lists and plans and schedules. I glanced away, not wanting to appear moved by his interest. Let’s be honest, the guy hadn’t been to my room just to talk to me since I’d come here.
And I had to remember that Bane cared about pride about as much as he cared about anything. So, he probably just didn’t like that my father had tampered with his precious possession at this point. I’d handled my father’s punishments just fine and they went beyond him wanting his way. He also just wanted my allergy to gluten to disappear. “Look, I’ve handled my father’s punishments thus far… It’s how he processes things. Obviously, our relationship is complicated.”
