Page 34 of Unorthodox
I steel my spine, lift my chin. “I’m not playing a game.”
He arches a brow, as if to ask,Really?But he doesn’t say a word.
I glance at the food on the table. “I’m not hungry,” I repeat my words from earlier. “I’m going to bed.” I stand to my feet without looking at him. The chair legs scrape against the wooden floor, loud in the quiet room.
I turn to head down the hall when he speaks. “You don’t want to do that.”
I almost laugh. Instead, I turn to face him, chest heaving. Again, I see the knife in the corner of my eye, but I don’t let my gaze linger. “You have no idea what I want to do.”
He leans back in his chair, his hands going to his lap. “Tell me.” His words are mild, and I find myself caught off guard, all of my bravado slipping away.
I ball my hands into fists. “I want to go home.” It’s only partly true. What I really want to do is leave this state. This country. This fucking planet, if it meant I could escape my father. My life. Max.
He nods his head, as if urging me to continue. As if he knows I’m not done.
“I don’t want to be drugged.” I glance pointedly at the food.
“You’ve earned the right to sleep with your nightmares,” he says quietly, cruelly. “This food is not tainted.”
I ignore him. “I want to know what’s going to happen to me.”
He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, glances at the chandelier over the table. “Your father is going to give me the money he owes me,” he finally says, flicking his cold gaze back to me. “You’ll go home then.”
I will never go home. When I’m free, I’ll run. “How long?” I ask Max, breathing hard. “How long does he have?”
He shrugs. “It’s best if you don’t know.”
I tense, thinking of my father’s threats to clients, partners, backstabbers. Thinking of how much time he ever gave for betrayals. How long he ever waited for me to correct my mistakes before he punished me for them.
Not long at all.
“I want to know,” I press, stepping closer to the table, my fingers curling along the back of the chair I was in. “I deserve to know. You took me here, you gave me to…you gave me toBen,” I say, chest heaving, pressure building behind my eyes. I try to keep my voice even, but my words are shaky, despite my best effort. “He hit me.” I close my eyes tight, swallow down the lump in my throat. “He kicked me, when I didn’t eat the food yourmaidforced down my throat.” I keep my eyes closed. “And hewhipped meand you—”
The sound of a chair scraping against the floor has my eyes flying open, the words dying from my mouth.
Max is on his feet, his palms pressed flat on the table, anger in his gaze. “And if you don’t pull yourself the fuck together,I’ll do all of those things to you too.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, grip the chair tighter.
“Do you wish to know what happens to you if your father doesn’t pay me back, Addison?” His voice is almost a croon. Almost gentle.
I say nothing, feeling cold all over, praying silently that he won’t tell me. That he won’t make it real.
“Answer me.”
I can’t blink. I can’t even look away from him. I open my mouth, nothing comes out.
Max smiles at my silence. A cold smile that causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. “Your father will pay me back, love, or you will forever be what Ben tried to train you to be.”
I feel as if the floor is falling away from me. As if the room is spinning. As if I’ve lost all sense of up and down, right and wrong. I stumble against the chair, my mouth opening, words bubbling on the tip of my tongue, but nothing comes out.
“That was only a taste, love.” Max’s voice is little more than a whisper, but I can still hear him over the roaring in my head as I squeeze my eyes shut tight for a second.
I knew it.
I knew it would be true. I knew what Ben was doing, what hedid—break me—was preparation for my future. For what I would be…if my father doesn’t pay Max back.
But he will, my mind pleads with me. He will, or Danik will. Someone will.
