Page 77 of Unorthodox
My eyes rake over the scars along his arms, his fingers, but before he can tell me again, I get up. I feel him watching me as I cross the room to the closet, but I don’t look at him.
I dress quickly, in black yoga pants, a black tank top over a black sports bra. At home, my wardrobe was far more colorful, with a lot of pink, courtesy of my father’s shopper. It’s whathewanted me to wear. But as I look down at myself while I brush my teeth, I like the look of all the black.
I feel…stronger.
When I look up into what’s left of the mirror, though, the feeling vanishes. I can’t see much of my reflection thanks to the cracked glass, but I know I probably look exactly how I feel:broken.
I close my eyes, dropping my hand and gripping the edge of the bathroom counter, hanging my head. I try not to think about last night, but I can’t stop it all from running through my head.
Why did I want it?
Does it matter?
Max’s voice outside of the door makes me jump. “Hurry up, Addison.”
I stare at the door, grit my teeth, and hold up my middle finger. It’s nothing, really, that act of defiance, but when I swing open the door and see Max’s fucking face, I feel marginally better for doing it.
That feeling is fleeting.
Dante is waiting when Max leads me out of his house, past the pool, to an exit in the gate at the back of his house. The fence is guarded by two men with rifles strapped to their chests. They both nod as Max presses his thumb to the keypad of the gate, but otherwise, they ignore us.
And Dante is standing on the other side of the fence, dressed all in black, but unarmed.
I look to Max after the keypad emits an electronic beeping behind us, locking again.
“What are we—”
“Start walking,” Max says, nodding toward the tree line that’s a few dozen feet away from the fence.
The sun is bright and hot even though it’s just beginning its slow rise, and I shield my eyes with my hand, staring into the woods. I hear a few birds, watch one soar into the cloudless blue and orange sky.
Otherwise, I see nothing.
Dante glances at me as I drop my hand, but I can’t read his expression. Before I can think to say anything to him, he turns, walking toward the woods. I notice he doesn’t appear harmed, and he’s still got his legs, despite Max’s threat.
That should make me feel better.
But it doesn’t.
Dante keeps walking as Max stares at me.
“Max, what are we doing?”
He steps close to me, blocking the sun as he reaches a hand down to my face, his eyes on my throat. His fingers grip my chin so I can’t move from his hold.
“I feel a little bad, seeing that.”
It takes me a second to realize there must be bruises, and when I do, I stiffen, cross my arms over my chest. “Why are we out here—”
“Bad enough, in fact, that I’m sorry.”
My mind goes blank, my rigid posture faltering as he runs his thumb over my mouth.
“I can’t promise you much, Addison, but I can promise you that that won’t happen again. Not while you’re with me.”
I bite my lip, waiting for the trick in his words. For him to do exactly what he just promised he wouldn’t.
But he doesn’t do anything for several long, confusing seconds.
