Page 8 of Bought and Broken

Why is he so close?

I look down at what I’m wearing and spin around. He’s right there, just a few feet away.

“I am wearing clothes, thank you very much. Expensive ones at that.” I hold my chin up, challenging him to keep going.

Tatum hates when I argue with him. He’d prefer I lie down and take the verbal lashings he gives me over everything and nothing. He’s worse than my brother and father combined. Yet he so charmingly hides it from them, and I won’t rat him out because it’ll only make me look like a brat. Dane would never believe me, even though he’s aware of our history. His precious best friend can do no wrong in his eyes. It’s pathetic.

“How much could that flimsy fabric cost? I can see your fucking camel toe.”

I grind my teeth together, fuming.

Few people get under my skin, but Tatum sure does. Even when he’s not trying to, he somehow irks me to the point of wanting to punch him in his stupidly symmetrical face. The way he acts toward me used to hurt because we used to be best friends too. But then one day, everything changed. I tried to fix it, then gave up, then tried fixing it again, until I finally called it quits. I’d cried myself to sleep one too many times over him. One day I woke up, and I was just… done. Seems that’s the day he went from annoyed to downright spiteful. As if he wanted me to chase him for the rest of our lives. Well, newsflash, Tate, that’ll never happen.

I don’t have time for him.

I have a life to live.

A plan that involves me getting far away from here. From him. Dane. My father. This house. All of it.

The money I get from the auction will be more than enough to start a new life. Plane ticket. House. Furniture. A whole new wardrobe. A car! I’m so excited about having a car that’s solely in my name, with no tracker in it. Dad bought me a car for my sixteenth birthday, but with it came a hundred more rules. Some that aren’t even worth using it. The only time I do is to visit with Summer and Astrid.

I step closer to Tatum. The mix of annoyance and confidence I’m feeling is dangerous. Tatum is like a bomb and I’m the switch. Though I’ve seen ugly parts of him, it’s nothing compared to what he hides away. And I know just how to push his buttons. One of these days, I’m going to push the wrong one.

I stop inches from him and look up, refusing to be intimidated by his size difference. Not only in height but build too. Tate’s body has always reminded me of Alexander Skarsgard’s, to which I have zero complaints. Though they look nothing alike anywhere else because Tate is tan with dark hair and has the deepest chocolate eyes. It’s a shame that such an attractive person has to be such a terrible human.

“You’d be lucky to see my camel toe, Tato.”

His hand is around my throat before I realize what’s happening. He forces me backwards until I’m against the fridge doors. The stainless steel is cold against my exposed skin, causing me to hiss and flinch away, but Tatum’s body is hot against my front. I’m suddenly regretting wearing nothing but bicycle shorts and a sports bra—and not because of the coldness behind me but being able to feel Tatum… it’s dangerous.

When I snap out of the shock, I grip his wrist and try to pull it off because I can hardly breathe.

“What the fuck did I tell you about calling me that?” he seethes in a low tone.

He told me a lot of things about calling him that. Mostly not to.

I open my mouth to plead for him to let me go, but words won’t come out. Nothing will come out. I dig my nails into his wrist, but he squeezes tighter—fully cutting off my airway. I wiggle and try to shove him off with my arms, elbows, knees, but he’s bigger than me. Stronger. I can’t get free. My head is getting heavy and foggy. Darkness seeps into the corners of my eyes—I think he’s going to kill me.

Tate has been cruel to me for years, but murder? Is he really going to choke me to death? Will he ruin his own life over the anger he has towards me?

He’s never been physically violent before. Not like this. A shove here and there. Tugging on my hair. Stupid things. Harmless things. But death? Tatum has never gone so far to inflict lasting injuries. At least not to anything other than my heart.

I’ve never felt panic like this before… never.

“T-t—”

With one last surge of adrenaline, my vision nearly completely dark, I pull my hand back and slap him as hard as I can. It does nothing.

So, I pull out the big guns and go in with my nails because it’s all I have left. I must get him good because he lets go of my throat and steps away with a curse. I fall to my knees, my hands around my throat as I suck in air. My head is pounding, my lungs burning.

“You’re going to regret that,” he spits out just before his heavy footsteps echo on the tile. Eventually it turns to silence, and I fall to the floor, curling into the fetal position.

Thank god the auction is tomorrow, and I will finally be free.

Chapter Four

Tatum

“What the hell happened to your face, bro?” Dane asks when I meet him outside the house. My house too, I guess, considering I hardly ever leave. Though I hate being in the same house as Devon, it’s better than being at mine.

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