Chapter 62
Anna
Talk about humiliating. Now I knew exactly what I was to him – disposable, like a paper napkin or used condom.
As I strode up the stairs, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. A condom?What a joke.
I guess that wassomethingto be thankful for, that he wasn't truly attracted to me. He'd madethatperfectly clear from the beginning.
Humiliating or not, this was definitely for the best, because if I were being totally honest, I was attracted to him more than enough for both of us.
Yeah, just like every other girl on the planet.
But so what?That was his job, right?To look pretty for the cameras.
Okay, maybe I wasn't being completely fair, but I didn't feel like being fair.
And now, my eyes were watering again – and for no good reason. Okay, so he'd used me. He'd chosen me for this gig because he didn't care what happened to me.
None of this was a surprise.
So, why did it hurt?
Itshouldn'thurt. I was, after all, being paid for the privilege.
When I reached the doorway to my bedroom, I stopped short and frowned at the damage from last night.
Downstairs, it had been all too easy to forget that he'd busted into my bedroom– and for my sake, not his. The sudden recollection was a cold splash to my growing outrage.
Maybe hedidcare at least a little. Or maybe he'd just grown a conscience. I didn't know, and I was too overwhelmed to think.
With a sigh, I sidled into the room and took good, long look at the destruction. The door was nearly shattered, and the adjacent wall had a doorknob-sized dent in the drywall.
Wasn't a doorstopper supposed to prevent that sort of thing?I looked down to the floor. Yup, there was the doorstopper, all right. The way it looked, it had been hit with enough force to knock it off the wall.
God, what a nightmare.
And speaking of nightmares, why was I having that stupid dream again? Downstairs, I hadn't been lying. Gordon had never touched me, but hehadcreeped me out, bigtime.
Desperate for some semblance of privacy, I gave the bedroom door a tentative pull, only to discover that it had come mostly unhinged.
Just like me.
And yet, to my surprise, when I crawled into bed, I fell asleep almost immediately. If I dreamed of anything, I didn't recall. But I did wake up early the next morning to the smell of something eerily familiar.
Confused, I threw on some clothes and wandered downstairs to the kitchen. I stopped short at the sight of Flynn standing at the center island making – yup, sure enough – waffles.
My gaze drifted from Flynn to the waffles and back again. I asked, "What are you doing?"
He looked up. "What does it look like?"
"I'm not sure," I admitted. "Revenge?"
"Does it smell like revenge?"
"No." I gave the waffles a wary glance. "But it could be some sort of secret revenge, like something that hits later on when I least expect it."
He eyed me with obvious amusement. "Now that's a scary thought."
