That was, until the day my parents died.
I wondered how much of that contract Lyra read when she said she wanted to read it. Did she know about my parents' wishes for their only child? Did she see just how much I’d be getting versus the amount I promised her?
That ominous will and contract loomed in a disheveled stack on the desk beside me as I watched Lyra through the window.
She didn’t say much after I showed her the pleasure I could bring her. The things only I could make her feel. No other man should be in her thoughts after that, but as she sat there, clicking through her phone while she smoked another fucking cigarette, I knew there was at least one person who she’d left behind.
Maybe he was another sorry bastard like I’d been.
She whipped her head around to meet my gaze and I cocked my head to the side, arching my brow.
C’mon, little Ly. Do something.
I wanted her to break, to cave into that feeling she had when she burned my dining room chairs in a fire pit and destroyed my truck. Why I needed it like my next breath was becoming a fucking problem.
I glanced at the contract on the desk, and her eyes tracked the movement. I could hear too-large boots clomping along the wooden porch as she stormed off, and I smiled to myself as I reached for the last page in our contract.
The one sitting on top of the stack, crumpled in a way that told me she’d been evaluating it, and had done so more than just a few times.
The Agreement was only supposed to go on for another few weeks, and then, she’d be gone. Leaving with a small chunk of change and another sizable chunk of myself. A pit formed in my chest as I skimmed over the words indicating a timeframe—
Duration.
While living under.
Thirtieth day.
The paper crumpled to a ball in my fist, my knuckles turning white as I thought about where this would all end. I’d wanted nothing more than to make her hurt, to make her want me and desire me as badly as I had her foryears, then force her out so she could feel what I did the night she left me. I wanted her to be stripped bare of her emotions, to become so angry and volatile that when she had that money, she’d never feel tempted to come back again, because if she did, I’d be here, waiting to do it all over again.
I wanted her to fear Alliston Springs and the person I’d become without her.
So, why the ever-loving-fuck did this feel like deciding I didn’t want it to end?
Her voice carried through the other window facing the barn from the other side of the room. Lyra was already talking to someone else. Someone who she could confide in or talk to after what we just did. I wondered if she was talking about us—if they knew she’d gotten married in the short time she’d been here. That she was just choking on my cock not more than thirty minutes ago. Or, was she still lying, using whoever was on the phone to leverage whatever it was she needed other than the money, like a new place to stay.
No.She didn’t know anyone else here. Her reclusive and promiscuous status as a teen hadn’t made her any friends to lean on in this town, and Jamie wouldn’t touch her now that I made it clear who she belonged to. Not even he was that dumb.
When I heard her giggle, I couldn’t take it anymore. I tossed the paper ball to the ground and opened the window. She gasped as I hopped through and yanked her phone from her ear, then pressed it to mine.
“Who the fuck is this?”
“Well, hello there.” A distinctly feminine voice trilled in my ear. “Am I on speaker, Lyra?”
“No,” I grumbled as Lyra crossed her arms over her shredded shirt, exposing the most perfect cleavage line. “I askedwho the fuck is this, and I expect an answer.”
Lyra huffed at the same time the girl on the phone did. “You sound like you’re quite possessive over my friend.”
“You have no idea.”
Rhythmic clinking sounds, like nails drumming on a table, consumed the line. “My name is Sophia. And let me just say—I kind of like that for her.”
My brow arched, and Lyra lunged for the phone. I kept her at bay with an outstretched arm. “Why is that?”
Lyra’s arms swung to no avail. I smirked at her, letting Sophia continue. “She doesn’t date. Ever.”
“Doesn’t date, huh? You sure you’re talkin’ about little Ly?” I clicked the volume up on the phone, giving Lyra the edge to listen in if she’d stay still.
“Oh my god, you even have a sexy drawl. Yeah, I’m positive. I know my best friend. She hasn’t gotten laid in—” She abruptly stopped herself. “Shit. Don’t tell her I told you this. She said it’s been years.”