by Renee Dyer
“Grant?” Her voice is questioning and her eyes have misted over.
Oh, mother of fucking Christ. What does she fucking want from me?
“Victoria,” I snap at her, harshly.
Her spine stiffens and a temper I didn’t know she had comes flaring to life. Ooh, I think I could like this Victoria. Where the hell has she been hiding?
“Mind telling me what the fuck is going on? Last week you tell me you love me and now you aren’t talking to me or inviting me in. What’s the deal?”
Her hands on her hips, head flying with her words, she delivers that little speech and all I can think is, is she yanking my balls? I laugh. How pathetic is she? I blow her off for days after leaving her to face the fallout alone and here she is, begging me to love her. I don’t even know what to do with that. I’ve heard of stage five clingers, but she may have taken this to a whole new level of crazy town. How broken do you have to be to come back for more?
“Wow. You actually believed I loved you?” I laugh again and damn it feels good to let it out. I’ve been living with so much shit in my life, the humor of this situation has me almost giddy. It’s short lived, though. I have a job to do. I need her to get the message, which is I don’t want her.
Directing my nastiest sneer at her, I say, “Do you think I could love a slut like you? Really, Victoria? Or should I say, Bitchtoria? The tabloids pegged you right on that one.”
“Why?” Her voice is weak and squeaky, like a mouse under a boot.
I can’t stand the whining and the pleading any longer and for a minute, I lose sight of my end game. I allow myself to say something I’ve wanted to say for a long time. “You still don’t get it? It was all about Tucker, that arrogant bastard. He thinks he’s better than me. He thinks he is the king of the show. I showed him. I took what was his and showed everyone I made you mine while he crumbled at their feet. Oh, how the mighty fall.”
Her startled look makes me feel strong. Then it dawns on her. She was a pawn, a piece in a game. She’s seeing she never meant anything to me and she wants to cause me pain. I can envision her using me as a scratching post.
Bring it on, kitty.
“Tucker is so much more of a man than you are,” she hurls at me. “You couldn’t fill one of his shoes!”
Ouch! Is that the best insult you have? Let me show you how they really work, princess.
“Ha!” I laugh again, completely amused by her. “I filled a lot more than that and a hell of a lot more than once, sweetheart.” Bazinga! “It was so easy to convince you I loved you. Guess you know how good of an actor I am now.”
Her face pales and I can’t stop the smug smile from stretching my face.
“You disgust me, Grant!” She turns and starts to walk away.
Finally.
“Grant, are you coming back to bed?”
The timing couldn’t be more perfect. I had forgotten about my drunken mistake from the night before.
Victoria stops dead in her tracks. Without seeing her face, I can see the wheels in her mind going a million miles a second. Her pride is telling her to run for the elevator, but her heart, the heart that fell in love with me, has to know who the hell is in here with me. It can’t believe I would move on that fast. You know what they say, the heart gets what the heart wants.
I allow the door to open as arms snake around my waist and Vic slowly turns to face us. The air leaves her on a gasp. Her eyes travel over Mel in my t-shirt, her hair disheveled from sleep and the sound fucking I gave her.
“Hey, Mel. Did you sleep well?” I ask, pretending to give a shit. I place a kiss to the top of her head, looking straight into Vic’s eyes while I do it.
I watch her eyes go cold. Not just cold, but void. That little niche in my heart starts throbbing and I will it to stop. I hate that she occupied any part of my emotions and I can’t afford to feel bad now. What’s done is done. I knew what the outcome would be and I’m willing to live with it.
I blink a few times, focusing on the black behind my eyes. Every closing of my eyes brings me a sense of calm, a righting of my mind, until I’m back to not caring that I just crushed Victoria.
She still stands before us, eyeing us, unable to say anything or move. I allow her to stare, let her brain process all the pain so she won’t come back. I want her to hate me.
“Grant, what’s the hold up?” Mel asks, looking up at me with eyes that say she’s ready for round two.
“Nothing’s holding him up anymore, Mel,” Vic says before I can get a word out. The snip in her tone shocks and pleases me. This is the fighter I was hoping she would find in herself. “He’s all yours. Word to the wise, woman to woman, he’s an actor, as he just told me. It’s easy for him to convince women he loves them. So, unless you only want to get fucked, I’d look somewhere else. If that’s all you want, then you’re in the right place. Grant is always up for a good time, as I can see you’ve figured out.”
She eyes Mel up and down like she’s a slut, even though Vic was the one who had been sleeping with two men. Funny how we forget our own sins when we’re hurt. Her eyes come back to mine as I’m pulling Mel back into my place and closing the door. She holds my gaze the entire time.
I have a new respect for her and her need to show me she won’t back down to me or show me her pain. She just might be okay after all.
Someone once told me, from life’s heartaches come the strongest people. I think Victoria is going to prove that saying to me and I’m going to love watching her.
“Want to tell me what that was about, Grant?”
I turn to see Mel with her hand on her hips.
Oh, hell no!
She and I agreed from day one we would sleep with whoever we wanted. I owe her no explanations or apologies. She can wipe that jilted lover look right off her face.
“No.”
“No? What do you mean…no?”
“Just what I said, Mel. We had an agreement and the fact that you’re questioning it now means we’re done. Get your clothes on, leave my t-shirt and get out. I’m going to take a shower.”
“But you—”
“There are no buts. We had a deal. You just broke it. It’s simple, sweetheart. Get your stuff and get the fuck out.”
I walk away as she starts to cry.
Seriously, why do women do that? Do they think it’s going to make us turn around and say we’re sorry? Are we suddenly supposed to turn our feelings back on? Crying just makes us want to get further away from you.
Learn that. Crying is bad. Makes men run—not walk—away from you.
Chapter Ten
Grant—Twenty Two Years Old
My cell beeps and I grab for it, wondering who the hell is texting me at seven in the damn morning.
Davyd: Shower & let Benny know I’ll be there in an hour. We need to talk!
Dread fills me. I can’t help but wonder if talk is code word for what he plans to do to me. I run for the bathroom and throw up the bile that has risen from fear.
With a raw throat, sore from the repeated dry heaving, I drag myself into the shower. Davyd will not be happy if I’m not clean. He has no tolerance for me not smelling “just from the shower, fresh”.
I don’t bother with breakfast. My stomach is in too many knots. I just grab a glass of water to sip. Over and over, I turn the glass in my hands, hoping to alleviate some of the tension. My mind goes through a myriad of excuses I can use to keep Davyd from touching me, but I know none of them will work. What Davyd wants, he gets.
When did I give up my power to him? When did I lose control of the situation?
It’s when he saw through me. He’s the only one who has been smarter than me. He knows my thoughts before I think them. Everyone else thinks I’m a nice guy, but he sees me for the asshole I am, sees the evil lurking within me.
And he’s using it against me.
When the knock sounds at the door, I jump, almost dropping my glass. “Get your shit together, Grant. Do not show him any weakness,” I
tell myself as I put my glass down and walk toward the door. I think of the tattoo on my shoulder. Mercy is for the weak.
Davyd found my weakness and he has shown me no mercy. The irony is not lost on me.
His smirk greets me as soon as I open the door. My insides roll at the desire I see in his dark stare. His want penetrates my gut like I’ve been hit with a wrecking ball. I want to run back to the bathroom and deplete my stomach of the lack of content within. I never feel as hollow as I do when Davyd is around.
As always, he walks in without waiting for me to invite him.
Irritated, I close the door and follow him back to the living room.
“Information or payment first?”
I see he’s wasting no time today. I want to say neither, but I wonder if the information he has will be that piece that finally allows me to drop Tucker to his knees.
“Information,” I say blandly. I know better than to let him get his payment first. He will dangle bits and pieces of what he knows and demand more payment. He’s a sadistic bastard.
“You may want to sit down for this one, lover.”
I roll my shoulders, the weight of the situation resting heavily. I fucking hate when he calls me that. It’s a term that should be reserved for people who have mutual feelings for each other. I despise him and every time he lays a finger on me.
“What is it, Davyd?” I ask, clearly annoyed.
He looks at me and the look on his face makes me think I’m dealing with the devil himself.
“Fine, stay standing, for now.” He waves his hand through the air like he’s brushing me off. “You’re going to get a call from Eddie asking you to come in for a meeting. He’s going to tell you there will be some changes on the show and he wants you to keep your distance from Tucker.”
“Excuse me? Keep my distance from Tucker? Is this fucking junior high school? I fucked his girlfriend. We’re adults, aren’t we? He needs his best friend to fight his battles now? People can get the fuck over it.”
“Ha. I knew you’d feel that way and nice using Melanie to get rid of her, by the way. I knew you were cruel, but that was a great touch. I was impressed. Don’t look at me like that. I’ve told you before, I’m watching you. Maybe you’ll start to realize now that you’re mine.”
I want to argue with him, tell him I’m not anybody’s, but the words lodge in my throat. He knows too much about me.
“Speaking of Mel, you’ll call her tomorrow and apologize for your deplorable treatment of her.”
“The hell I will,” I bark out.
“We’ll get back to her later. For now, we need to finish discussing Eddie.”
“Davyd, you can’t just walk in here and tell me who I will and will not apologize to. That’s not the deal we had.” I’m starting to lose my temper and for the first time in five years, I’m contemplating walking away from my plans. His interference in my life is getting out of control.
“How cute. You think you have a choice,” he says with smug authority. “Look at this and tell me you won’t be calling Melanie in the morning.”
I grab his cell phone from his outstretched hand and tap the screen. Oh God! I’ve never been so glad to have an empty stomach. A video of the one time I met Davyd at a motel plays across the screen, sickening me. Seeing what he does to my body, the pleasure he takes from me, makes me feel dirty all over again.
How did I not know he had a camera in the room?
“You will do what I say or I will make sure that video goes viral. Understand?”
“But you’re on the video, too.”
“If you think I can’t alter myself out of the video, you aren’t as smart as I’ve been giving you credit for.”
My body hums with barely restrained anger. Davyd knows I’m close to ending our arrangement so he resorts to blackmail? He knows that video will destroy my career and the fan base I’ve worked my ass off to build. I need both of those things in place for my plan to work.
“I see you comprehend what I’m saying.” He grabs his phone and watches the images on the screen for a minute with a smile on his face.
I want to shove that fucking phone down his throat, see how he likes unwanted things shoved into his body. I would take pleasure in that.
“Now, back to Eddie. He met with the entire writing staff and a new storyline has been written for this upcoming season. The cast didn’t know the old storyline so it won’t matter to them, but you did and it’s going to be a big ass deal to you.”
Hearing him say ‘ass’ makes me cringe.
“You’re dead at the end of this season.”
“What?”
“And Tucker’s character kills yours,” he continues, like I never asked a question.
“What the fuck do you mean Tucker’s character kills mine?” I roar. There is no more containing my rage. A beast rips through the veiled exterior I’ve kept so perfectly in place.
“Tucker? Tucker? Is this your idea of a sick joke, Davyd? Your way of trying to see how far you can push me?”
Fear should emanate in his eyes with the rage pouring out of mine, but he still looks at me with that fucking smirk. I want to rip his lips clear off his face.
“You’ll need to stay calm when Eddie calls you in for the meeting. He’ll be doing that in a couple hours.” Again, he speaks as if I’ve said nothing. My fury is unnoticed by him. “He cannot know I’ve given this information to you. I’m not sure how much he’s going to say to you or if he’ll even discuss the course of the upcoming season, but I thought you should be forewarned.”
“Forewarned?” I scoff. “You didn’t want to forewarn me of anything. You wanted to come over here and throw this shit at me, watch me explode, and know you still have leverage over me. This is how you play the game. Well, I’ve had enough!”
“You’ll have enough when I say you’ve had enough, do you understand me, lover? I can break you in a matter of minutes and all your work to crush Tucker will be for not. I own you and it’s time for my payment. Now strip!”
He pulls his cell phone out and brings forth the video again for me to see.
“You know I don’t bluff.”
He’s right. I know him and he does what he says he’ll do. Defeated by my lack of options and arguments, I start to shed my clothing, going as slowly as I can. Fire still courses through my veins, anger so hot over the information he gave me, but there’s nothing I can do with it at this moment. Instead, I stand bare before him, a shell of the person I am.
“That’s better. Now, put these around your neck.”
My eyes drop to see what he’s talking about and I wish I hadn’t. Metal balls hanging from chains dangle from his hands. I can tell they are heavy from looking at them. He intends to keep me down, shackled, while he desecrates my body. It’s one more attempt at breaking me.
I. Will. Not. Break!
With my gaze fixed on his, I grab the leaden weights, bring them about my shoulders, and watch the satisfaction fill his eyes. He grabs at me and I take satisfaction in knowing I’m limp in his hand. I have never been hard for this man.
He wants to punish my lack of submitting, my lack of commitment to him. I can see the ferocity in his eyes. A storm of wrath rages so deep, I know if I get caught in the winds of his punishment, I’ll be tossed around and battered until I’m nothing but a bloody mass left in the remnants of his vehemence.
Although I know the violence that threatens to push forth from the calm exterior he allows the world to see, I still can’t bring myself to participate in the heinous acts he performs on my body. There is no attraction to him and my body’s lack of response says what I wish I could. Maybe the way for me to win against him is to continue not feeling. There has to be a way to crack his rock hard shell and start the downward spiral to him losing control.
“I see you, lover. See you thinking. This is not a time for thinking. Only feeling.”
My body shudders in protest of his words, but I fear he’ll take it as a sign of arousal. Closing my e
yes, I prepare myself for the invasion.
“What are you doing, Grant?”
I open my eyes to his oily orbs staring back at me. He’s not reaching out to touch me and I’m confused. I shrug at him, not understanding what he’s asking.
“We’re not in your bedroom.”
Ah, of course. He always has to take me on my bed. Another sign of his dominance over me.
I walk through my living room, naked, with metal balls hanging around my neck, as he follows me, still fully dressed. In my mind, I question how I missed the bag he brought in with him. I just saw it now as I walked by the couch. Would I have been more on edge knowing he brought weapons of torment with him?
It’s too late to question the “what ifs” now.
“Get on the bed and wait for me. I assume you made sure the sheets are clean for me.”
The arrogance he gives off makes me want to choke—mostly choke him, but breathing for me is difficult, too. I nod or give some subtle response to his question because he murmurs a favorable response. A small shiver of delight passes through me. I have a secret he doesn’t know about. That one secret makes me feel like I’ve kept a small piece of myself in all of this.
These are not the same sheets he has taken me on every time. I don’t wash them and reserve them for him, as special sheets, only to be used by he and I. No. I bought dozens of these identical sheets. After Davyd leaves, I burn the set that was on the bed, needing to scorch the act from my space and mind. The ashes I clean from the fireplace are a reminder of the cleansing my soul still needs, but at least my home is sanitized.
I don’t think I’ll ever feel clean again.
The bed sinks beside me and I try not to think about what’s coming next, what I’ve allowed to happen, how I let the tables get turned on me.
“Get on your hands and knees, lover. I want to see those balls hanging.”
The meaning in his words is not lost on me. There are too many balls hanging for me to even begin to guess which ones he’d be more turned on by and it sickens me. I try to flinch away from him, but his large hand clamps down on my hip, yanking me into position.