Page 29 of Romancing the Reaper

How has everything gotten so damned complicated?

The moment I’m out of the bathroom I have to take a moment to compose myself. My hands scrub roughly up and down my face as I try to hold myself together.

My fucking hands are shaking. My shirt’s on inside out. I haven’t felt this ass backwards since I was a teenager. Back then, I worried that I was going to forever be torn between what I knew to be right and what my father wanted me to do. I always knew what was expected of me, of course. But, how do I move forward?

I resigned myself to being a soulless bastard a long fucking time ago. I had sworn myself to revenge. I can’t let her go. Of courseI can’t let her go. She’s too important to me. I can’t accomplish this without having her as a key player against Cristiano.

But she has a point. No matter if I want to admit it or not.

What point is there in trying to make her better if it entails her having to leave? What if she’s just over and done when things are completed. She might not want to stay after her brother is no longer in the picture.

It was a fucking mistake to let myself care for her.

I’ve gotten in way over my fucking head and I feel dizzy and overwhelmed with it. I head to the kitchen because I need to move. I could go to the gym and punch out my frustrations but that doesn’t help me move toward my goal. Instead, I have allowed myself to get distracted. My thoughts and feelings are all muddled inside and I can’t let this happen. I need to stop. She was never supposed to mean anything to me. I was just supposed to use her for my plan.

But now that I do… now that she isn’t… fuck.

Maybe when this is all said and done, I’m going to have to keep her. It’s not going to have anything to do with my revenge or whether or not Cristiano is alive.

I think that I’m going to have to keep her simply because I want her so fucking badly. It’s more than just needing to be inside her. It’s more than taking her body or the fact that every time thatI’m with her, I’m only left craving more and more. I’ve always mocked and ridiculed those sappy bastards who lose their sense of self and goals for the future when they get a piece of ass.

But that was before I met Ada. Before I knew what it was like to hold her, to lose myself in her. To worship her body and skin until I can hardly breathe and still somehow want more.

She’s an addiction all in herself.

And yet, I can’t possibly entertain the idea of abandoning my revenge.

Cristianomustpay for what he’s done to me. What he’s taken from me.

I start putting away the food that has gone cold and can’t be reheated. That, and the things that clearly won't work for the new goals that we have.

Routine has to be the key.

I’ve given this a lot more thought than I will readily admit.

If control and stress is the trigger then we will have to do things in a way that she can control. A dedicated routine and planned meals.

No deviation, nothing that she can't predict. Simple, healthy food at scheduled times. At least, I think that will be the very best possible place to start.

We will then move on to her triggers to determine what foods are harder to deal with and then try to define her ideal circumstances. Little by little, until we get her at least healthy. I don’t even want to guess what will happen when and if she starts to gain a healthy weight.

Keeping her here in this place isn’t going to help anything either. But I can’t let her go. I can’t afford to take that risk.

What if I let her go and she doesn’t come back? I don’t know what I would do.

When Ada finally comes out of the bathroom she doesn’t so much as look at me. She is wearing another one of my t-shirts that she’s borrowed, and she’s freshly showered. The idea that she didn’t want to feel my touch on her anymore bothers me, but I don’t dare say anything about it to her. Not yet, not like this.

I want to pull her into my arms and apologize. I want to hug her against my chest until I feel better and the world makes sense again. But that’s not an option. Not now. There’s a guarded mask on her face again. She doesn’t want me to… hell, I have no idea what she wants.

She slumps in her seat, shoulders rounded forward. She looks so fragile and yet so far beyond my reach.

I make a couple different plates for her, pushing them toward her despite knowing that she might not take them. But it’s step one. There’re a few options and none of the portions are very large.

“Ready to start?” I say dryly. If she’s going to be cold, then there’s no point in attempting to sugar coat things. “No time like the present.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

ADA

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