“I will,” he said, nodding, walking back to me as he spoke. “If you don’t say thank you. I’ll make you come on her dress over and over, until you associate her with feeling that good.”
I looked up, shocked, staring into his eyes. Part of me couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe the boy who’d saved me had become this way.
Evil. Theo was evil. What did it make me that I gave in to temptation so easily? Because as much as I knew he would go through with that promise, I knew I would let him. I hated him, I hated myself, but I still craved him.
Bruising or tender, biting or soft, I needed him.
I was pathetic.
“Say it.”
“No.?
??
A part of me wanted to keep saying no so he would have to go through with his threats.
He tilted his head, as if reading my mind. “Sweet girl, that would break you.” His voice was soft then, his touch softer.
That, more than anything he’d done, broke me.
He can’t call me by such sweet names while obliterating my soul into such small pieces they can never be repaired. It fucks with my head—but that’s Theo, and that’s why I’m so strung out on him. Theo is the moment after agonizing pain subsides, when stark relief has you high and you’ve sworn you’ve never felt so good. It’s the most addicting thing I’ve ever felt.
Be mean to me just so I can hear you say nice words.
I jerked my head away, but he caught me, slowly bringing my gaze back to him, digging into my jawbone, soft touch returning brutal.
I knew he was done telling me what to do, just like I knew I had to do it. I wouldn’t look him in the eye for this humiliation. His grasp on my chin still harsh, I looked down. I focused on the fine needlework of my dress now ripped from his hands. Teardrops stained the white chiffon. Soon everything blurred in my tears.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
It burned through me like hot smoke, staining my insides irrevocably.
Theo laughed and dropped my chin. “You’re welcome.”
Twenty-Nine
THEO
I’d barely made it out of the room before I doubled over, heaving whatever was in my stomach. It didn’t help. I was still festering inside.
Promise you’ll never say I love you, promise you’ll never make another goddamn promise to anyone again.
Fuck, I hadn’t meant to say that. The thought of Abigail loving someone else tore me up. It had no right, but it did.
Selfish.
Cruel.
Unavoidable.
Another round of heaving seized my gut, this one dry.
“That was one of my favorite vases.”
I stood up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Tansy Crowne leaned against the railing, behind her the domed ballroom ceiling and massive chandelier. If there was one good thing to come of this, it would be never seeing Tansy Crowne again.
She arched a brow, like she’d read my thoughts.