Page 101 of House of Payne
She knows I have her right where I want her.
I find myself doubting how much longer I can keep her there.
I expected her to run. She hasn’t, something that has me both impressed and angry.
Why hasn’t she tried to leave?
Most women do, and I’d envisioned what it would be like to drag her back and punish her for her insubordination.
I still want to, but I don’t have enough grounds, and since we’re still in unfamiliar terrain, I’m not going to push my luck.
I will have London again. It’s only a matter of time.
“I doubt I’ll keep the place anyway,” I continue evenly. “I’d probably make more money if I tear it down.”
London’s mouth falls open, and her eyes widen. “That wasn’t part ofthe deal.”
I shrug. “Deals change; you should know that better than anyone. What use do I have for a house like that in a neighborhood like this?”
London swallows. “I…”
It’s her childhood home, and I know I’m being callous by suggesting this so casually, but I’m doing it on purpose.
It isn’t personal.
London just needs to remember who is in charge, and why she’s at my mercy.
I can’t have her forgetting, and threatening to rip her childhood home away from her is as good of a reminder as any.
Are you more worried about her forgetting, or are you reminding yourself?
Having spent the past few days wanting her has driven me crazy, but until I can figure out a way to have her without forfeiting control, I’m keeping my distance. Yet, part of me wants her near, knowing that keeping her close is better than not seeing her.
I just haven’t figured out a way to get her out of my system.
Whatever you do, it had better be fast. You can’t afford to be distracted for much longer.
With a frown, I watch as London’s father gets into a beat-up silver Honda Civic and drives off. Once his car turns a corner, I shove the door open and get out of the car. Katia is somewhere nearby, on high alert as usual, and Carlisle falls into step beside me, surveying the manicured neighborhood with thinly concealed distaste.
London catches up to me easily. “What are you doing?”
“Taking a look around,” I reply without looking at her. “I’d suggest you go in and say your goodbyes.”
London blinks, and her expression tightens.
For a long moment, she stands there watching me as I circle the house and nod to myself. She pauses with her hand on the knob and glances over her shoulder.
I don’t like the look on her face, and I like it even less when it’s on full display.
Damn it.
Why can’t she just accept we are nothing more to each other than a means to an end?
Why does she have to look at me like that?
Like I’m capable of changing.
The sooner she accepts that we’re both using each other, the better it’ll be for everyone involved.
