Page 27 of Fragile Twisted Vows
As if it’s not completely, ridiculously dehumanizing.
Oh, but that’s not all.
Not even the worst part.
“The signee must agree to be married to the initiating party within thirty days of the contract being signed?!” I practically scream and Damien’s foot instantly steps on mine under the table.
“Lower your fucking voice, woman,” he growls, threatening fire igniting in his eyes.
But I can’t calm down. My hairline is sweating and ruining my fresh blowout. My wine glass is about to shatter in my hand from the forceful grip that I have on the stem and my face now probably is the same shade as this tablecloth that I’m about to lose my lunch over.
“I need to go to the bathroom. I’m going to be sick,” I whisper before I look up at Damien and his lawyer.
“Unless you need to come with me, per the contract,” I growl, and Damien waves me off as he drapes a long arm over the back of his chair.
“Please, go. I’d rather not send another suit to my dry cleaner today,” he growls back, and I immediately get up and stomp towards the ladies’ room.
I rush into the nearest stall and sink to my knees above the toilet, my dark red, manicured fingers gripping the edge as I close my eyes and take deep, pulling breaths.
How did I get here? What have I done to deserve? this?
I’ve been ostracized, ridiculed, outcasted and banished from the life that held every threat inside of it and I’ve lived by and for myself since. I thought I eradicated every bit of danger that my former life once held.
But clearly, I am mistaken.
“Why me?” I whisper, as I flush the toilet and stand to straighten my dress before leaving the stall.
“Do you always victimize yourself when you use the restroom?” Damien mumbles as I practically ram my head into his chest upon leaving the stall.
“Jesus-” I shout, but his hand instantly slams over my mouth as he shoves me against the stall door.
“Enough,” he growls from above me, his large, rigid body pressed tightly against mine.
His mouth practically hovers outside of his hand and my breasts are being pressed to his chest as I start to panic and flail beneath him.
He uses his free hand to grab both of mine and pin them above my head. I’m completely at his will now. I am the toy he has written on paper.
This is what he wants.
Complete submission.
Total control.
“You don’t have a choice anymore, Lucille. I’ve made that abundantly clear. This contract is only a written agreement which was already made verbally last night, do not forget this. You are mine now, whether you like it or not. And if you want to be safe, if you want to remain untouched and unharmed, I suggest you get with the fucking program and just listen to me, okay?” he says, and his words wash over me like acid rain.
Painful. Harsh. Abrasive.
“Now, are you going to be a good girl and keep quiet if I remove my hand from your lips?” he growls and I don’t know why, but my body instantly reacts to those words.
And not in a good way.
In a lustful way. In a way that I cannot begin to explain or control.
But still, I nod slowly. I agree with him.
Because he could snap my neck in an instant and cover my murder up like it never even happened in a restaurant bathroom.
A restaurant that he probably owns, mind you.
