Page 57 of Unorthodox
It smells like lavender instead.
On the fifth day, after lunch, I follow Dante to my room. He turns to me, nodding toward my door, and I think about going in, like I have been.
I think about doing what I’m told.
But I’m feeling restless, lost without knowing how much time I’m shackled here. How much time I have before I’m…Don’t think about it.
I don’t. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest, letting Dante know I’m kind of tired of wearing this figurative leash. If Max wanted me to remain docile, he shouldn’t have blown Ben’s head off.
“I’d like to call my father,” I tell Dante, locking my eyes with his, refusing to look away. He might be armed, and he might be every bit as imposing as Max, but he’s yet to hurt me. And while I have absolutely nothing to say to my father, I think he’d tell me the timeline I’m working with here. He’d probably like to rub it in my face, because Max isn’t the only one who gets off on sick forms of torture.
If I think about it too long, I can imagine my father palming my A-cup, before I got implants. I can imagine his mouth on me, his eyes on mine as he told me how much he loved that I didn’t yet remind him of a woman.
I don’t want to think about that.
I force it from my mind.
Instead, I watch Dante’s throat bob as he shifts on his feet. Interestingly, for a bodyguard armed to the teeth, for a man that works directly underneath a guy like Max, Dante seems nervous around me. But his tone is stern when he says, “You can’t.”
Hugging myself tighter, I glance down the long, dark hallway toward my bedroom. It’s empty. “Why not?” I ask, my gaze finding Dante’s again. “You can listen in,” I offer, as if I had a choice. But my father always made suggestions like that when he tried to persuade someone to his side. Gave them grace where there really was none. Dante would listen in no matter what I did or didn’t say. Still, it doesn’t hurt to play into his own desire for control. Seems like it’s the thing men want most in this world. As Max’s shadow, Dante is probably craving a lot of it.
“It won’t be long,” I add quickly, just as Dante’s brow furrows.
He no longer looks uncomfortable. He just seems annoyed. “Addison. Get in your room.”
I have the sudden urge to slap him, but his biceps bulging through his black dress shirt tell me that might not be a good idea. “Fine,” I snap, unable to control my temper completely. “Can you at least tell me how long I have here? Can you tell me if you’ve heard from my father? Can you tell me anything aboutmy fucking life,Dante?” My chest heaves with those words, all of the pain from the last time I saw Max coming out and spewing all over the wrong person.
I drop my hands, step closer to Dante even as some rational part of my mind tells me that’s a terrible idea. But none of this is a great idea. My entire life has been one bad idea right after the fucking other.
Why not make it a little worse?
“We both know I’m fucked,” I tell Dante, and he keeps glaring at me, refusing to step back as I advance. We’re close enough that I have to tip my head back to look him in the eye. If I wasn’t so worked up, I might be scared of what I see there.
He looks like a dog might when you crowd it into a corner. When it starts to bare its teeth and snarl, right before it bites.
But I’ve been crowded into a corner my entire life. I want to sink my teeth into someone, too.
“We both know that no matter what happens, there’s no happy ending for me. I’ve known that my entire life.” I step closer, until my chest is nearly brushing his. I see a muscle tick in his jaw, but I don’t stop. “I think I deserve to know what’s happening to me. I think I deserve to know what my punishment is for being born to the wrong life. I think Ideserveto know how much longer you’ll be following after me, your tail between your legs every time Max looks at you funny.”
His scowl deepens as he crosses his arms, as if to put something between us.
I don’t care. My heart is thundering in my chest and I’ve got a headache coming on behind my eyes, like a warning that I need to take a step back. I need to go to my room like a good girl. I need to calm down, do as I’m told. Accept the orders of a monster who won’t think twice about sending me to a life of sexual slavery.
But I don’t want to back down, because that lifeis this one.
I’m not free here.
I never was.
I point my finger in Dante’s face and watch his right eye twitch. “You like being his bitch, huh? You enjoy spending your life standing outside of doors and listening to him doing the important things on the other side of them, Dante?”
One more step, and we couldn’t get any closer unless he uncrosses his arms, which I think he’d only do at this point to hit me.
I’d enjoy the fight.
“Is he fucking you, too? Is that what this is? Areyouhis pet? Does he makeyoukneel? Is he going to sell you when you’re no longer useful?” My voice is lower, but my rage is so bright it’s nearly blinding. Max Bennett acts as if the world should be grateful he exists in it, and the world, in turn, bows at his feet.
I’m fucking sick of bowing at the feet of men.
