When she left, I got out of the tub and dried off before leaving her room. I don’t know where she went, but it didn’t take her long to return and slam the door shut behind her. I’m not welcome there right now, and I’ll accept that, considering the circumstances.
She’s mad at me, which I fully understand. She wants to make me out to be the bad guy while simultaneously wanting me to fuck her into oblivion. It doesn’t work that way, and she knows this. And now she’s upset she didn’t get her way.
Of course, she’ll never admit this out loud, which is why she’s probably fuming in her bedroom right now. I’ll leave her be for a moment. After all, there’s no use having a discussion with her when she’s denying her own feelings.
Though, her knowing about my incessant need to punish her father does put a dent in my plans. I didn’t think she’d bring it up. I got caught off guard with her questions, and she saw the truth in my eyes.
The way she looked at me when she knew I sent that footage of us to her father cut me deep. She despises me, and I don’t blame her. I would hate the person who did that to me too. I should’ve thought of that before I hit send.
Now I wish I never did.
Charlotte
The longer I sit in my room, the more time slips through my fingers. I’m not doing anything, and it’s infuriating. These books I’ve collected from Easton’s personal library bore me to death. I’ve already read a lot of them, or they’re simply not my taste.
I didn’t know being left alone to do what I wanted would be so … boring.
I always imagined that I’d be excited when he left. That I’d enjoy the time I’d have on my own since I don’t get a lot of it. Easton’s always watching me like a hawk, trying to spin me around his finger, but when he’s not … it’s both refreshing and scary.
However, I won’t forgive him for sending my father footage of us.
Nothing he can say or do will make me forget who he really is.
I refuse to see him right now. I’d rather sit here and waste away than have to look at his goddamn handsome face while he’s trampling on my heart. No thanks.
Still, a hungry girl has to eat, and I am famished.
Would it be okay for me to go into the kitchen and make something for myself? Or did he forbid his staff from helping me? If I know him, he’ll try anything to get me on his side again. And if that’s the case, I’ll stop eating entirely. That’ll teach him not to mess with me.
With confidence, I march out of my room and down the stairs. There’s a delicious smell coming from the kitchen, and it lures me in without a second thought.
My mouth waters as I inhale the scent as I float toward the stove. Jill’s cooking homemade beef chili stew in a crock pot.
“That smells delicious,” I mutter.
She spins on her heels and almost hits me with a spoon. “Geez. You scared me.”
I wipe off some drops that landed on my cheeks. “Sorry about that,” I say.
“It’s just finishing up. You want a taste?” she asks.
“Well, if you’re offering …” I give her a big smile.
“Of course.” She grabs a bowl and fills it up, then places it on the kitchen counter. “Eat up.”
I sit down on a stool. “Thanks,” I say, staring at the bowl, wondering which piece I’ll start with first.
She adds a spoon and a napkin, accompanied by a soft smile that breaks my heart in two.
The last time I saw that smile was when I ran away at the store. When I was finally free and her world broke in two. Easton probably didn’t treat her kindly, and she must hate me for it.
I rub my lips together and pick up the spoon while she continues to stir the pot. She normally doesn’t cook, as Easton has a few personal chefs that work for him, so the fact that she’s here surprises me. I wonder if he made her do this or if she’s trying to make up for something.
“So … you’re cooking too now?” I mutter. “You’re like the perfect assistant.”
“Oh, it’s only for today. Mr. Van Buren requested I make this dish personally, and I agreed. It’s his favorite.”
“Interesting,” I say. I guess there’s so much more she knows about him than I do. “So you do this often?”
“No, just when he asks,” she says. “He’s had it a bit rough these past few days.”
Oh boy, I can’t imagine. That makes me want to roll my eyes.
“But don’t worry about me. Go eat,” she says.
I nod and look down at the perfect bowl of stew with just the right amount of herbs and probably the perfect taste, and it makes me wonder what else she does so damn perfect.
Yes, I’m envious. I wish I could cook like this and be so loving and supportive. That someone would need me for something other than my body or for revenge. That Easton would need me the way he needs her.
But that’s selfish of me.
The way he treats her and takes her for granted … I shouldn’t ever want that.
The longer I stare at the stew, the more hesitant I become to take a bite. I don’t want to upset her, but I don’t deserve this delicious meal either.
“What’s wrong?” she suddenly asks.
I put my spoon down. “Nothing, I just …” I sigh. I guess it’s better to talk about these things than to bury them in the shadows. “I wanted to apologize for leaving you at the store the day I ran.”
She stiffens and grows silent, clutching her spoon as if it’s her lifeline.
“I know Easton must’ve been harsh on you for that,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, hehe,” she mutters, flicking her spoon like a baton. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not, and you don’t have to pretend that it is,” I interject. “I hurt you.”
“Nonsense, you didn’t—”
“I did. I hurt you personally by running away. I knew when I saw you that he’d punish you for it, and I did it anyway.” I swallow away the lump in my throat. “And I’m sorry about that. If I could turn back time and change what I did, I would.”
It’s silent for a few seconds as we stare at each other, and her eyes fill with tears.
“I saw your desperation, your need to be free …” she murmurs. “I should’ve stopped you.”
“But you didn’t.” I don’t look away because I want to see her pain. I need to see it so I can come to terms with the flaws of my actions and how they affect others. “And there’s nothing I’m more grateful for than that.”
She looks down at her feet, and there’s another pause.
“Did you like it there?” Her voice is brittle, soft as a whisper. “Outside in the real world?”
A gentle smile tugs at my lips. “Very much.”
“Did you get to do what you wanted?” she adds, clearing her throat.
It takes me a few seconds to answer. “Yes.” I nod. “But I would’ve loved more time …”
She clutches her arms, and says, “I’m sorry Mr. Van Buren didn’t want to stop looking for you.” She bites her bottom lip. “I tried to persuade him to give it up, but he wouldn’t—”
“It’s not your fault, Jill,” I say, smiling. “It’s no one’s fault but mine.”
She sighs out loud as though a heavy weight has lifted off her shoulders.
“That man has a giant crush on you,” she says. “Nothing anyone says or does will ever change that.”
I narrow my eyes. “Do you think so? Because he bought me for my body … and for revenge.”
She approaches the table and leans in. “There’s no one else on his mind. All day long. All he thinks about is you.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
She averts her eyes for a few seconds. “Because I see him. I know him. I’ve known him for a long time. And he’s never, ever fallen in love.” She cocks her head. “Except with you.”
My whole body tingles. It’s as though I’m suspended in a timeless void where the word love repeats over and over until my mind goes numb.
“I know you’re mad at him,” she says. “For taking you here again.”
“It was my own choice,” I reply.
“I know,” she says, gazing at me with intent. “But you two seem to be at odds much of the time …”
I frown. Is she alluding to the fight we had in the bathtub?
“You must hear everything that goes on in this house,” I say.
She blushes a little. “Well … yes, the walls are quite thin.” She chuckles, but it dies off quickly. “I don’t mean to intrude because it’s not my business what you guys do or discuss. But I want you to know you’re not alone.” She smiles, but it’s not a smile of happiness … it’s a smile marred by pain. “I know how he can be.”
I nod as I’m sure she knows him better than I do. She’s been his assistant far longer than I’ve been his wife.
She parts her lips. “If you can ever find it in your heart to forgive him, I beg you …” She grabs my hand and squeezes. “He doesn’t want to see you suffer, but it’s in his nature to always want to win.”
I take it all in without saying a word. I don’t want to ruin this moment even though it’s shrouded by Easton’s unrelenting gaze. Though he isn’t here, he always finds a way to be in the spotlight even if it’s through his assistant.
He should’ve married her instead of me.
They would’ve made the perfect couple.
“Well, anyway, eat your stew before it gets cold.” She giggles and lets go of my hand to return to the kitchen, whistling a tune.
Always smiling like the kind, self-sacrificing girl she is.
As if the world didn’t deal her the worst hand of them all.
I feel guilty for even sitting here, knowing I’m the one he chose … when she wishes it was her instead. But nothing either of us does or says will ever change his choice, his needs, or his heart. And he’s dead set on winning me over.
