Maid For The Mafia by Alice T. Boone

Chapter Four

My father taught me that intention was important. It meant something to wake up every morning with the goal of doing a good job. Though, working beneath Terrance O’Brian, that truth seemed to slip further and further away from me. Within the O’Brian house, it didn’t matter that I was trying to follow the rules— only that I hadn’t been able to follow them. There was no reward for spending an entire afternoon avoiding the brooding mobster and his melodramatic daughter, and there’d be no year-end bonus for the black magic required for cleaning Terrance’s office in the 15 minutes he was out of it at 3 in the afternoon. In this world, no one cared that you did your best. All that mattered was the thing you didn’t do.

All that mattered was that awful knock on the door.

Mr. O’Brian made my place in the house perfectly clear. I wasn’t meant to be prying my nose into his business, or interacting with visitors, or playing nanny. I wasn’t supposed to get involved in his life anymore, but I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to stop myself either. It was the first time in a week that I dared to pass through the front of the house— a route I’d only taken because Mr. O’Brian had been skirting about the kitchen before retreating to his office. I’d been on my way to the laundry room by the time the knock echoed through the foyer, ricocheted through my chest. If it hadn’t’ve been for my father’s teachings in my ear, I might have been able to ignore it. If something in my bones didn’t push me forward, I might have been able to play by the rules the world was so desperate to force on me.

The door would never feel heavier than it did that afternoon. The setting sun offered the stranger the slightest amount of protection. When I placed myself between the man and the entrance, though, it wasn’t the sun that made it difficult to look at him. His dark hair was pushed back and blackened circles rested under icy eyes. If I’d been able to look away from him, I might have noticed that his suit cost more than what I made in a year.

He reminded me of a snake— another beautiful creature filled with venom.

My stance didn’t harden until the stranger tried to push past me again. “I didn’t get your name.”

“I didn’t give it.” When his hand landed on the door, another attempt to force his way inside, my resistance brought a shiver to his muscles. Blue eyes looked out at me again, and something within me stiffened. His chin tilted up, a command to move aside, but my body wouldn’t twitch. It was only then that the stranger shifted to his true form. A grin replaced his scowl, and as a prickle of danger ran up my spine, he settled against the door frame. “You’re the maid.”

“Did the uniform give it away?”

“The one Jackie sent over.”

I was good at control, but I didn’t think I’d ever be able to stop the sheen of sickness that came with his name. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to stop the flood of memories, of shame, that came with reference to Jackie Ramano. When the knock came, when I threw that awful door open, I thought the universe was leading me to something more. Instead, it had just reminded me of the pain I’d been working so hard to bury.

When he tried to push forward, when I held my footing, his grin began to falter. The stranger relaxed back on his heels, and as his eyes washed over me, I felt another shiver rattle at my core.

“How long you been working here?”

“A while.”

“Six weeks?” I wouldn’t let my face twist, but something shifted inside him either way. Icy eyes flashed with something new, something darker, I pretended I still remembered how to breathe. “Terry still know you talk to him?”

“How about you—”

“Hey, Micah.” The trill of Jemma’s voice pulled the stranger’s attention over my shoulder, but I wouldn’t release my grip on the door until the teenager pried my hand away. Somehow, Jemma wedged her body between the two of us, and with a jerk of her hip, my body stumbled back from the door. “I thought you were coming for dinner.”

The force beyond the door pushed Jemma back another foot and before I knew it, I’d been pushed along the back wall. Once he was in, once the door closed to lock us all together in a new danger, Micah took a careful survey of the room. If I hadn’t’ve known any better, I would have guessed the man was looking for danger. When I finally noticed the way Jemma’s hands groped out for his sleeve, the way her knees buckled as she grabbed onto him, danger would never be too far from the O’Brian house. Jemma had swapped out dark band tees for a tight black dress, runners for a pair of heels she could barely walk in, and heavy eyeliner for something much more adult. The teen was desperate to impress, and when Micah tugged his arm from her grasp, I wondered if desperation could cloud a teenage girl’s judgement so completely.

“Something came up.” My furrowed brow pulled his attention forward. When our eyes caught, when I noticed that spark of something different, his head jerked back across the house. “Really just need to see your old man, Jem. He around?”

“I can take you to—”

“He’s upstairs.”

All eyes shifted as my voice filled the room, and my eyes locked with ice once more. It was a sense of danger that forced the words out of my mouth, that pushed me to save the both of us. Jackie took my dignity, my name, my history, but he left me with one important gift. Icy eyes brought a prickle over my skin, and when Jemma threatened to jump out at him again, that same prickle forced me to step forward. My fingers moved out to knot in the back of her dress, tugging the youngster back into me as Micah studied my every feature.

Slowly, his vision shifted to Jemma. “Your dad’s gettin’ a little lax, isn’t he?”

Jemma shook out of my grip, forcing an awkward laugh. “She didn’t mean anything by it, Micah.”

Not another word would fill the space left in Micah’s wake— not until he had already disappeared up to the second floor. Then, only the painful sting of jealousy was left, the hatred that came when Jemma turned on her heel and pushed a finger against my chest. Jackie taught me to be afraid of monsters; life taught me to be terrified of a girl in love.

“Who the fuck said you could open the door?”

Ego demanded I snarl out the truth, that when someone knocks at a door, you answer it. I wanted to bite out that I didn’t need to ask permission in a house I lived in. I wanted to do a lot of things, but the whisper of something else kept my eyes glued to the stairs. Beneath me, I felt the ground shift. Against my skin, I felt the wind change.

Something’s wrong.

“How long has he worked with your dad?”

“He’s not interested in you,” Jemma spat. “Micah’s got more self-respect than to fuck the help.”

She was trying to pull a rise out of me. The teenager wanted me to react the same way she could get her father to react, but when my eyes stayed glued ahead, I felt Jemma falter. I wouldn’t try to explain the subtlety of the shift to her, wouldn’t murmur out that my bones knew something was off about the stranger. When Jemma moved to the side for me, I didn’t think I’d have to. Something was off, and when I recognized that awful feeling, like someone groping around inside my chest, I didn’t have a choice anymore.

Whoever he was, he needed to be watched.

My intention was to talk to the both of them about the teenage girl fuming in the front room. First loves, messy attractions for older men were a normal and terrifying part of the human experience. Just because Jemma hated me didn’t mean I wanted to see her hurt, and my intention was to be the womanly voice of reason. Though, my intentions never seemed to mean much. As I stepped onto the second floor, my vision shifted from the closed office door to the staff quarters at the far end of the hall. While the office remained silent, a single man in concentration, all that could be heard on the second floor was the ruffling that came from Micah’s invasion, from an ice storm.

The hurt would always be the same— another wound left untreated. The ghosts of my shame, of my pain, were the only thing to carry me through the hall when my legs gave out. When I found the door to my bedroom left ajar, it was that same ghost that kept me pinned to the entrance. My entire body froze as I watched the last pieces of my privacy get stripped from my bones. My suitcase was overturned on the floor, my bedding left in a messy heap after the mattress was lifted. Lead filled my lungs as I watched him root through my drawers, but when Micah straightened, I wasn’t sure a collapsed lung would be enough to hold me in place.

When I saw him searching through my phone, when I saw him in the same position Jackie stood just six months before, something within me snapped.

“You can’t be in here.” My snarl wouldn’t even earn a glance. Micah continued to browse, continued to open my messages, continued to violate the last sense of peace I had left. “This is my room. You can’t be in—”

“In the O’Brian house.” The correction chilled me, and when Micah finally glanced over his shoulder, my vision washed. “Sweetheart, nothing is yours anymore.”

“Give me my phone.”

There was no hope. I knew before I ever entered the room that there was no hope against a man like that. I had no place among the ones who broke bones for a living, but when his eyes fell back down to the screen, I couldn’t stop myself. The first time it happened, the first time I let a man treat me this way, I was too frozen to do anything. The first time I caught Jackie stealing my sense of security, I let him have it. Now, nothing could stop my body. Now, the promises I made myself all those months ago looped in my head.

My chest rattled with a snarl I didn’t know I had, my legs moving with a speed unlike anything I’d experienced. Adrenaline made me sloppy, made me frantic, and as I lunged for the phone in the stranger’s hand, it also made me stupid. Where Terrance O’Brian took pity on me, Micah was born without a heart. His left hand wrapped so tightly around my throat that my vision blurred, an outstretched arm keeping me in place. That spark, that awful spark I saw downstairs, returned to his eye as the dresser slammed against my lower back— the look of a man desperate to protect the only family he had left.

“What’d you tell Jackie?” My lips parted, but when his grip on my throat tightened, all I could get out were gasps for air. When my fingers clawed lifelessly at his arm, he snarled again. “What did you tell Jackie?”

With whatever strength I had left, I choked out the only truth I could: “Nothing.”

His grip didn’t tighten around my throat, but when his eyes returned to the phone in his hand, my air cut out all the same. My body twisted with an old shame, a new revulsion. My skin burned with memories of Jackie, but when I saw the stranger finally shift to my photo album, everything turned to ice. A quiet filled my head as the worry slipped away, a new desperation singing strength back into my muscles. All that was left was a sense of survival, and when Micah pulled me just another inch closer to him, I tried to survive the only way I knew how.

He was too fast for the jerk of my knee to do much damage, but as my leg slammed into his stomach, Micah’s body reacted on impulse. He tossed my body to the side to protect himself, but as soon as my body slammed into the hardwood, I forced my attention back on the beast. As he groped for another breath of air, a swift kick to his arm sent the phone across the room— better broken than in the hands of a cretin. Though, as his snarl of pain filled the air, a new kind of danger filled my lungs.

Micah wouldn’t straighten— not completely. The anger kept him hunched over, kept his hackles raised like a hound. It was only when I watched him slip into that awful state that I allowed myself to straighten. Carefully, slowly, I tried to shift towards the door, and I spit out the only reasoning I could think of.

“I don’t work for Jackie anymore.”

“Bullshit.” His hiss sent a shiver through my system, a heavy heart the only thing that kept me pinned to the ground. “You show up and then my shipments start getting seized? I’m supposed to believe—”

“I just told you I don’t work for him,” I snapped, earning another snarl. “And if I did—” This time, the fear was too violent. This time, when he lowered his body, when his spark returned, the chill it sent down my spine was enough to snap my mouth shut. My stomach knotted, and a shift at my feet pushed me in a different direction. “If you really thought I was working for Jackie, you had no right coming into this house.”

“Terry isn’t going to—”

“She’s right downstairs.” Suddenly, I watched him straighten. His jaw stiffened, and I shifted closer to the door still. “You don’t get to just come in here and disrupt her world and invade my privacy.”

“I don’t ‘get’ to?” When his hackles raised again, when that awful grin returned, I felt my confidence cave. Icy eyes darkened, and when he took a step closer to me, I took a step back. “Who the fuck gave you the right to—”

I wanted to believe that some divinity looked down on me with pity. I wanted to think that I paid the price with Jackie, that I didn’t deserve to be the slaughter of another hungry wolf, but as my back rested against something impossibly cold, I knew better than to hope for peace. In front of me, Micah paled and I wouldn’t have to peek behind myself to know the savior in the doorway was the man I’d been avoiding for two weeks. I didn’t have to glance over my shoulder to know that Terry’s fists balled so tightly his knuckles turned white, that his teeth ground so roughly they threatened to crack.

“Terry, it’s not—”

“Wait in my office.”

I watched Micah’s stomach twist, watched his frustration crawl from his lungs with a hiss, but Terry’s wildfire had a way of stealing the last bit of oxygen from the room. While I might have been small enough to use, to abuse, Terry had the authority that kept Micah in his place. The man straightened, and his eyes cast across the room as he made his way towards us. Terry wouldn’t shift from his place behind me, but when my bones pushed me forward, when another whisper in the dark made me grab out for Micah’s sleeve, I wondered if I had tempted him. I pretended Micah didn’t feel the tremble in my hand as I turned to face him. Then, as my stomach twisted with the words I wished I didn’t have to say, I pretended I didn’t see Terry’s eyes light with disgust.

“The staff entrance leads out to the kitchen,” I choked. “If you were avoiding the front door, that’s what I would take.”

He wouldn’t spit out the words so readily on his tongue. As his face twisted, Micah wouldn’t give me the snarl I deserved. Though, when our eyes caught again, the man gave me something else. The slightest hint of appreciation lurked beneath his disgust, regret beneath his rage. I might have felt I had done something good if I hadn’t’ve felt the chill that came when Micah pushed past me. When Terry’s eyes scanned the room, scanned my face, embarrassment had a way of tinting everything. His attention demanded I turn to face him, but with my eyes glued forward, I wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Why the fuck are you always in the center of this shit?” My head snapped up and my chest tightened. I’d never seen the man look so angry, so disgusted. It wasn’t until his eyes drifted a little lower, to the dark marks lacing my neck, that something seems to deaden him. “Are you alright?”

My hand danced up to hide the mark. Apparently, a country wasn’t enough to separate me from Jackie’s training, from his brutality. “I’m fine.”

“What was he doing here?”

“How should I know?” The only thing that earned me any leeway was the way his eyes danced along my neck. Looking away, I tried to soften again. If anyone deserved the truth, it was Mr. O’Brian. “He thinks I’m working with Jackie.”

“Are you?”

This time, the fear in my chest wouldn’t keep me still. My face twisted at the accusation. “No.”

“Then why the fuck didn’t you get me?”

“I thought—” When a convenient lie came too close to crawling from my throat, I snapped my mouth shut. With his eyes on me, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to give him the answer he needed. Instead, my gaze fell across the room. “I got upset,” I admitted. “I don’t like people going through my belongings, so when I saw him—”

“You don’t have any belongings.” The snarl chilled my core, and had my arms not wrapped around myself, I was certain he would have seen the collapse of a rib. “I own everything in this house. You forfeited the right to belongings when you accepted this fucking job.”

My head snapped forward again. “I didn’t—”

“The second you stepped foot in this house, you became property.” With darkened eyes on me, I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t deny the tremble of my legs. “If someone’s damaging my property, Selina, then I need to be told.”

If I was as strong as I pretended I was, I would have snapped back at him. I would have told Mr. O’Brian that I wasn’t some prize to be kept anymore, that I wasn’t a dog to be ordered about. I would have told him that I needed privacy, that I needed respect, that I needed a semblance of freedom, but under his gaze, I couldn’t muster much of anything. Under his gaze, I couldn’t avoid the truth. If the option was to belong to a monster like Jackie or be claimed by a man like Terry, I knew the choice I would make.

“Yes, sir.”

The phrase had a way of stiffening his jaw, of bringing the same shift to Mr. O’Brian that he so easily brought to me. When annoyance painted his every feature, my stomach twisted. Terrance’s eyes jumped to the space beside us, and when his fists tightened again, I let my arms cross over my chest. Frustration pulled him back to me, that same seriousness he’d used to tighten the garrote so many times before, but as his eyes lowered, something softened again.

“Cover yourself up.” My cheeks flushed with colour as my hand shot up to cover my neck. “You don’t leave this room until someone comes to get you. Understood?”

Guilt flooded my system, and my eyes shot back up to my boss. “Mr. O’Brian, you don’t need to—”

The last thing I wanted to do was harm the family I was meant to serve. Terrance made my place painfully clear— at least, I thought he had. As his eyes locked with mine again, the lines he drew so forcefully had a way of blurring. His jaw tightened at the slightest hint of my reluctance, and the quiet between us had a way of wearing down his walls. All Mr. O’Brian seemed to want was safety, and in this life, security only came to those in complete control. If agreeing to be patient was the only way to make him comfortable, then I would do that.

“Alright.” My nod lowered his shoulders. “I’ll wait for you.”

“What the fuck makes you think I’m coming for you?” I wouldn’t have another chance to study him as his attention turned back to the door. The annoyance that burned my skin wouldn’t be put out with the slightest hints of his concern. “I’ll deal with Micah. Val will be in to take care of you.”

While Micah’s transformation from man to beast chilled me, I wasn’t sure anything would be as captivating as Terry’s from beast to man. It would only take a second for him to pull together an image others spent years perfecting. A careful hand through his hair, an adjustment of his shirt, a hiss of frustration, and Mr. O’Brian became the composed creature the world demanded he be. It wasn’t until he had already made his way into the hallway that my body jerked into action. I wanted to shout after him, to choke out an apology, to find a way to make things right, but as I reached out for the door, I did the only thing I could really think of: I shut myself off from the entire world. It was only when I tried to turn the lock that I noticed how badly my hands were shaking.

I’m sorry, Mr. O’Brian.

* * *

Decades of study wouldn’t be enough to unlock the magic of a hot shower. After a week of sore feet and skipped beats, the 20 minutes of steam was the exact thing I needed. My hair smelled as fresh as ever, my skin lotioned to match, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt so refreshed in my entire life. In my professional life, my world was on fire, but as long as I had access to the O’Brian’s staff shower, I thought nothing else could matter.

Who the hell could be upset with water pressure like that?

Sunday was my first day off in nearly two weeks, and I intended to exploit every second. After my last interaction with Mr. O’Brian, Val took extra care to keep me impossibly busy. I lost an entire week of summer hiding away in the basement, but maybe there was gratitude to be found there as well. After our last run in, Mr. O’Brian only seemed angrier. Fights in the house were growing more frequent, and with the constant shouting upstairs, there was something to be said about being trapped in a dreary basement.

Though, the freedom to daydream was more a curse than a blessing. I could accept that while I worked, while I showered, while I slept, Mr. O’Brian’s memory would haunt me. To be unable to keep him out of my head now, slipping into jeans and a torn tee, was a new kind of torture. His words hung in my head with the dirtiest of laundry, thoughts of his silver tongue never far behind. It’d only been a matter of weeks, a handful of meetings, and I was already a puddle of teenage hormones— a fact that wasn’t quite jiving with my attempt at a new lifestyle.

I wasn’t here to have a fling with the mob boss.

I was here to do a job, and that was it.

The only thing to get me through an especially painful week was the hope of a day off. While the move from Jackie’s service and into the O’Brian’s hadn’t exactly been my idea, I couldn’t have been more excited for a change of scenery, for a chance to change my story. I didn’t know anyone in Vancouver, but when Samantha, a fellow housekeeper for a capo in Toronto, gave me a list of places to check out, I found a purpose. Packing my days full enough meant I wouldn’t sink into memories of the past, fantasies of the future. I had a goal, a plan, and while that excitement kept me lifted throughout the week, my will was tested as I descended the stairs.

The staff’s quarters rested in the back end of the house, a hallway tucked in the back for the handful of people Terrance O’Brian decided he needed with him day and night. With two sets of stairs to choose from, it should have been easy to avoid the capo. Though, when the man changed his schedule, it was getting impossible to deny the tug in my chest. The door to the backyard was right in front of me, beckoning me to escape, but when Terrance’s snarl filtered through the kitchen door, I wasn’t strong enough to avoid it.

It was the snarl I’d become too familiar with: that sound of a failing attempt to control himself.

“How is that any fair?”

Even through a closed door, I caught the sound of Jemma’s stomping foot, a smile crossing my face at the thought of her jutting hip and spiking attitude.

“What’s not fair is you living in my house, disobeying my rules, and then demanding my money like I’m a goddamn ATM,” Terrance bit. “This shit with the school stops now. I’m not asking, Jemma.”

“When are you ever asking?”

“Excuse me?”

As a kid, my mother warned me about that urge to meddle. My need to pry put me on Jackie’s radar in the first place, and I was meant to be in detox. I wasn’t supposed to meddle in the lives of others anymore, but maybe I was more of an addict than I’d ever given myself credit for because when that snarl came from his chest, I couldn’t stop myself from pushing past the kitchen door. Every eye in the kitchen jumped to me as I took a careful step forward, and the voice in the back of my head attempted to soothe a new fear. Their interest only piqued because it was the first time anyone had really seen me out of uniform, I was certain.

Though, that hardly explained Terrance O’Brian’s attention.

A practiced peace took over my system as I weaved through the kitchen. My features remained calm, and my head quieted when I set my sights on the coffee pot perched beside Jemma. The teen wore a scowl on her face, heavy makeup accenting the narrowing of her eyes. When she couldn’t get the reaction she wanted, though, Jemma’s attention shifted entirely to me. While one hand worked to pop down slices of toast, the other poured myself a cup of coffee. Sugar, cinnamon, milk, and I was already chugging down a messy mouthful.

“Doesn’t the help eat in their room?”

My eyes flitted over to the girl’s scowl, a shrug of my shoulders giving her another pause. “Must have missed the memo,” I hummed.

If I was going to die in the viper pit, I would at least enjoy it. A hum left my mouth as I took another sip of my coffee, and when the toast next to us popped up, I moved onto the only real weapon in my arsenal. Cinnamon toast had been my father’s go-to for nearly three decades. Dad knew it was the cure for heartaches and headaches alike, and if anything was going to convince the teenager to have a moment of quiet with her father, I was certain my dad’s secret would help.

When I caught Jemma’s eyes burning into me, I slid the plate of toast over to her and took another swig of my coffee. “Want some?”

“What?”

I wouldn’t let my eyes wander over to her as I shoved an entire slice into my mouth. Even from the basement, I knew Jemma was more like a deer than anyone had given her credit for. Tough to see when she was throwing a tantrum, maybe, but clear once I got up close. I wouldn’t scare her off with my attention, and when I finally heard her nibble away at a slice, I wouldn’t let my smile fill the room.

Well, Daddy was right about some things.

The honk of a car horn had everyone looking towards the front of the house, and in a flash, Jemma followed my lead. The young woman stuffed the rest of her slice of toast in her mouth, chased the dry bread down with some coffee, and then turned her attention towards her purse on the counter. The teenager wiped sugar from her mouth with one hand, grabbed money from Terrance’s outstretched hand with the other, and rushed for the door without another word.

I might have felt accomplished, too, if I hadn’t caught the look on Mr. O’Brian’s face.

I hadn’t felt so much like prey in my entire life. From across the room, Terrance’s eyes narrowed to thin slits. I struggled to look away, to back out of the room like I was supposed to, but once our eyes locked, time stood still. His venom constricted my muscles long before his finger prodded into my stomach, hours before he was finally towering over me. I wouldn’t let him notice the tremble in my thighs, the way my mouth wanted so desperately to hang open.

When his lips finally leaned down to my ear, brushing just close enough to send another chill through my system, guilt filled my stomach. I was smarter than this. I knew better than to get involved. Men like Terrance O’Brian would never appreciate my help.

“What’s the game here, Selina?” His snarl snapped my eyes shut. “This all some attempt to humiliate me?”

My brow furrowed, my head shaking stupidly side to side. “Of course not.”

“You’re gonna come in here with that smug fuckin’ attitude in my house—”

“I was just trying to help.”

Even in the moment, my hands landing on his chest, I knew interrupting him was a dangerous move. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from attempting to put distance between the two of us. All it really did was put me back in the spotlight. Once more, I locked eyes with the man who took lives for less.

“I made it clear how I feel about your help.”

My shoulders bunched around my ears when my stomach twisted again. The mouth that had been so tempted to bite back at him now couldn’t be pried open. He did make his position clear, didn’t he? The first time I got involved, I was fortunate enough to keep my job. When I forced myself between Micah and Jemma, Mr. O’Brian was in a good enough mood to spare me a second time. When the words of understanding wouldn’t come, I gave a quick nod of my head. Peeling my eyes off the floor, though, brought a new knotting to my stomach. This time, locking eyes with the beast brought a different tightening to my thighs, a new heat to my blood. As he towered over me, Terrance wore an expression I couldn’t place— one that made me pray he couldn’t sense the dampness growing in my panties.

“I’ve already told you once not to open that mouth around me, didn’t I?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If it’s not the sound of your moan around my cock, I don’t wanna fuckin’ hear it, Selina.”

I didn’t need a mirror to know my cheeks, my chest had betrayed me. Terrance O’Brian made his fortune off reading idiots like me. He couldn’t take his eyes off the subtle parting of my lips, off the words that sat on my tongue. Every piece of me was anticipating some action that I already knew I wasn’t allowed to want. I was here to build a new life, a new legacy, a new name. I wasn’t a lovesick teenager. As his eyes drifted a little lower, though, Mr. O’Brian reminded us both of our place. When his dark eyes drifted along the fading bruises wrapped around my neck, memories of the man he dealt with only days before, something shifted. With whatever sense of will I had left, I straightened myself back up. Mr. O’Brian stayed just inches away from me as I straightened out my shirt, as I chugged the rest of my coffee. His position held as I turned around to face the counter, pretending neither of us noticed the way my ass brushed against his hardening cock. He wouldn’t move again until I turned back around, my cup in the dish rack and my attention on the exit.

“Well, nobody wants that, do they?”

My cheeks heated further as I slipped out from his reach, suddenly aware that I must have looked like a newborn deer as I stumbled towards the door. When his eyes were on me, why the hell did it become so hard to function? When he forced me into a corner, when he played the game I hated, why did I find him so hard to resist? As I wobbled through the door and onto the back patio, I spit out the only descriptor that came to mind.

“What a prick.”