More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
I’d undo the damage if I knew how. I don’t need her to pretend. I like her raw feelings—all of them. They turn me on. That’s what makes her different from every other person in the world.
Besides, I don’t need her pretending she’s a tough cookie when she clearly isn’t. She doesn’t need to be strong. I am strong. I can destroy anything that threatens her—if she just fucking tells me where to come get her.
I inhale and slowly exhale. My left eye’s twitching. How much longer does thi...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
“I know that Carolyn bought me all the stuff. You don’t know me at all, do you, Dario?” I know her perfectly. Better than she knows herself. She’s a tangled ball of self-doubt, foolish pride, dumb hope, brilliance, masochism, and blind affection. And I’m obsessed. I need her back.
My rush to judgement has grossly inconvenienced me, and it’s put a piece in jeopardy that I did not intend to permanently lose.
My fingers twitch. I want her closer. If she were in my arms, I wouldn’t feel this—empty-handedness.
“Are you even capable of actually feeling sorry for hurting someone?” She cocks her head, as if considering a new idea. I can see her doing the math, searching for a memory to prove herself wrong and coming up short. She’s getting it now. “No.” A thrill skates down my spine. It feels good to admit it. She blinks at me, finally, really understanding.
“You were angry because you thought I let someone touch what belongs to you.” “Yes.” It’s almost sensual, the way the naked truth feels on my lips. Like skinny dipping in broad daylight, the way the sun feels on your bare skin. “Not because you loved me.” “I don’t love anyone.” I never have.
My grip tightens until my knuckles blanch. I don’t lose control. I don’t lose, period. Except to Posy. And it’s good when she wins. It makes her want to play with me more.
This isn’t a bad development. After all, Posy loves winning. I never let her, so when she does, it’s real, and she knows it. She crows about it. Losses roll off her shoulders, but when she beats me, she gleefully rubs it in.
She better enjoy this small victory. It’ll be her last for a long, long time.
The asshole had a point. I should have known better than to get involved with him, and I sure as hell shouldn’t have fallen for him based on flowers, fancy dinners, and expensive gifts. Am I that shallow? I never thought I was, but what else can you call it?
To a degree, I felt sorry for him. I assumed he must be lonely. I was bringing fun and laughter to his empty life. I completely ignored the fact that he is one hundred percent content with everything exactly as it is.
How did I not see? Because he treated me like a princess? Or wasn’t it more like an exotic pet?
He’s a monster, and I should have never baited him. I should have never let him lull me into believing that this thing between us was a game.
“Why are you walking home alone?” What?
He binds them behind me. Something sticky and tight. Duct tape. He slaps a strip over my mouth and then he relaxes, his chest crushing my back, the edge of the trunk digging into my lower belly. I can feel him between my legs through my pants. He’s hard. He’s getting off on this. His breath is heavy in my ear, and not just from the struggle. He grinds his cock against the juncture of my khakis. I hold myself rigid. He won’t do this here. It’s too exposed.
He leans closer and smooths the hair from my face. “You’re scared,” he murmurs. “That’s understandable.”
But Dario also does what he wants. And for some reason, he doesn’t want a witness to whatever he’s going to do to me.
The trunk vibrates from the music. He’s blaring the radio, and we’re going fast. He’s enjoying himself. There’s something about the idea that calms me down, lets me think.
My heart broke to think he didn’t even have that. I was so wrong. He doesn’t have keepsakes because he’s a man-shaped shell.
He gets bored when he wins.
I was sucked in so easily. A pretty face, a hot body, money, brains. I was a goner.
But all the women I know steer clear of him. They know something I don’t. If he was just a dark horse, they’d be all over him.
Until the video, Dario never laid a hand on me. He never even raised his voice. What did he do that is so bad that none of the shameless gold diggers in our circle tried their luck with him? Or am I so blind when it comes to men that I can’t see what’s obvious to everyone else? Clearly, he’s not right in the head.
Dario tries to care for me like a toddler with her first doll. How did I never notice how awkward he is?
“What are you thinking about?” Dario’s leaning against the sink, arms folded, watching me drink. “You.” I don’t have the mental bandwidth to lie. “Are you thinking about how I won?” “I’m wondering what made you the way you are.” His smile fades. “I don’t see why it matters.” I shrug. “I guess it doesn’t.”
“You never bore me.”
“What are you thinking?” he demands again. I waste time by squeezing lavender-scented body wash on a loofah and kneading it in my hands. “You never used to wonder.” “Because I knew.” He says it with absolute confidence. “You knew what I was thinking? All the time?”
“You loved me. You were anxious about other women. You wanted me to propose. You worried about whether I thought you were getting fat. Whether I was getting bored.” My face flushes. He’s one hundred percent correct, and it’s pathetic.
“I never got bored,” he says, offhandedly. “Why not?” It’s out of my mouth before I can remind myself that I don’t care. “I don’t know.”
“Come closer.” My pulse kicks up a notch. I’d rather not. I don’t understand what’s happening here, and I’m naked. Vulnerable. Hurt and tired. I stay plastered to the far side. He makes an odd sound in the back of his throat, almost a growl. I tremble.
I shiver against his hard chest. Some primal instinct has me frozen in place, afraid to breathe too deep. He rests his chin in the crook of my neck and then rests my hands on his knees, stroking back up the sensitive inside of my arms. He emits a low hum and skims the bruises. He’s admiring the marks he made.
“You like seeing how you hurt me?” I tense. I shouldn’t have said it. I have to get out of this alive; I can’t let words fly out of my mouth. “I like marking you.” He says it as if he’s discovering it himself, in this moment. “It might leave a scar. These tape burns on your wrists.” He sounds pleased.
“You shouldn’t have run,” he says as if that answers for everything. “Ray told me to.” Ray watched Dario maul me in the driveway, and ultimately, he backed away. He’s not my friend. I don’t owe him shit.
It doesn’t mean anything, though. It doesn’t mean I love him anymore. I hike my chin and stare at the stone tiles.
“You fucked me all the time before when you weren’t in the mood.” My stomach turns. It’s the truth. “We were together then. Couples do that.”
“I’m going to put a baby here.” He tickles the swell below my belly button. My brain can’t keep up. “No.”
“That’s a terrible idea.” He hums, unmoved. “Our children will be smart. And attractive.”
He’s never talked about kids before. Despite the box in his sock drawer, we never talked about marriage either. And now—he’s insane. We’re n...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
“I thought you were going to make me suffer.” My voice is thick. “I was.” He cups a palm and scoops cool water over my breasts, rinsing the suds away. I shudder. “I changed my mind.” “Why?” “I’m not angry anymore.” “Why not?” I shouldn’t push. Why am I pushing? He takes his time replying. When he answers, he seems surprised. “I wanted you back. You’re here now. It’s all good.”
“It’s not good. At all. You’re fucked in the head. As soon as I can, I’m going to run, and this time, you’re never going to be able to find me.” He wraps his arms tightly around my trembling torso. “Shh,” he whispers in my ear. “You don’t have to fight. I’ll go back to the way I was. You can go back to pretending everything is fine. You liked it like that. It’s over now. You can relax.”
It’s nearly nine thirty. The New York Stock Exchange is opening. Dario heads out the door. It shuts with a snick and then there’s the unmistakable click of a key turning in a lock.
Posy’s so bright, but she constantly sabotages herself. She trusts people, longs for affection and acceptance. She gets lonely. She wants to please. She’s as vulnerable in this world as a snail without a shell. Why am I fascinated by her weakness?
I didn’t like it when she was gone, and knowing that she’s upstairs in my bed is unaccountably…pleasing.
She’s going to try and run again; she’s not a fool. I can’t keep her locked away forever. It’s a problem. I’m not that c...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
It didn’t work. I grew stronger. The beatings taught me to fight, and except for Lucca and Tomas, the others learned to fear me.
My messes became acceptable. The cost of doing business.
I want to pick up what I broke and fit the pieces back together until she’s exactly the way she was—but I want her to still see me like she does now. The way I truly am.
And I don’t function well when she’s gone.
