Page 13 of Before I Loved You

He makes a tsk sound of disapproval before standing straight, locking the door, and walking toward me. “Now, that’s no way to talk to the boss’s son. Is it?”

I remain silent as he approaches, feeling every part of my body ready to turn on flight mode. But as he stands directly behind me, looking in the mirror at me, I calmly say, “What do you want?”

He looks me over, making me feel like a cheap used car up for auction. “I haven’t decided yet. But when I do, you’ll be the first to know.” His eyes catch mine in the mirror.

“I won’t do anything for you.”

“Oh, but you will.” He leans down, brushing his lips over my ear. “You see, I can be quite convincing when necessary.”

“You don’t own me,” I grit out.

His smile grows, his eyes glinting with cruel intent. “I think you’ll find that I do.” His hand grips a piece of my hair, twirling it around his finger. He brings it up to his nose, deeply inhaling. “Apple and honey?”

“Don’t touch me.” I step to the side, pushing away from him, but in mere seconds, he has me pinned to the wall with his hands wrapped around my neck.

“Don’t piss me off, Sarah, when you know what I have on you.” His fingers dig into my neck as I fight for breath under his hold. My hands claw at his, digging my nails into his skin, but it’s futile.

“You’re disgusting,” I manage to spit out.

“I just know how to get what I want. It’s not personal. Just business.” He releases me, and I clutch my neck, gasping in as much air as I can.

“See you around, Sarah. Oh, and don’t be late. The boss is a real stickler for that.” He chuckles and then taps my nose before he walks out the door as though he didn’t just try to strangle me in the bathroom.

I slide down against the cold wall, letting tears run fervently down my cheeks.

What am I going to do?

I worked so hard to be here, and I need this money. It’s too late in the year to try to find a new internship, and even if I do, it won’t be comparable to this.

He’s going to destroy me.

I could see it in his cold eyes.

Even though I never did anything to him to make him feel this way toward me. He’s just hated me since the night he chose me as his personal pawn.

The night I’ll never be able to escape.

After finishing my work for the day, acting as though the boss’s son didn’t attack me in the bathroom, I stop at the grocery store on the way home, starving for food but feeling too emotionally exhausted to make anything. Not to mention, I only have twenty dollars in my wallet. So I leave with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, a tub of peanut butter, and a jar of dill pickles.

Opening the door to my apartment, I’ve never been so relieved to be home. As I lock up behind me, I rest my forehead against the smooth surface and let out a long, deep breath that has been waiting for this moment to make an appearance.

I’m home.

I’m safe.

I kick off my heels, toss my cardigan to the floor, and unzip my dress, leaving me in nothing but my black panties and bra. I place the bag on the coffee table, go to my room, take off my bra, and throw on an oversized T-shirt. Grabbing the brochures on my nightstand, the ones I have refused to look at for the past week that the doctor left me with, I walk out to the living room and set everything up.

The pickles, ice cream, and peanut butter line the edge of the table as I sit back on the sofa and start glancing through each pamphlet with a blanket wrapped around me.

Reaching for the pen and paper nearby, I’m ready to start creating a pros and cons list, but after only a few minutes of looking at each brochure, I toss the papers to the floor and lie back, fisting my hands at my side, frustration seeping out of me.

How am I supposed to make a decision when I still don’t even know who the father is?

I even went to the bar a few days ago, hoping that, by some miracle, I would run into him. The bartender was clearly annoyed with me as I sat there ordering water. And maybe me repeatedly asking him if he knew of anyone matching my mystery man’s description was his final straw and why he finally stopped coming to my side of the bar, but whatever.

I rub my throbbing temple, closing my eyes. I’ll never be able to find him. And the only person to blame for that is myself.

He could be a married businessman living in another state for all I know, who just happened to stop in that damn bar the same night as me, looking for the same thing.

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