Page 55 of In Love with the Devil

“Of Bridgerton. I know it’s your favorite show.”

“First episode of Queen Charlotte.”

As he climbs onto the bed, next to me, he mumbles, “Always the mad king, huh?”I look at him but don’t respond. "You should probably put the glasses on."

"Aren't you going to eat too?"

"I already did."

I try to watch it without them but my eyes fill with tears even before the show begins. "Fuck."

"What's the matter?"

"My eyes."

"It will go away soon."

As the night advances, somehow I get used to sitting in bed, watching a romantic series with my captor, my torturer, my rapist, the biggest nightmare of my fucking life, the devil himself. My thoughts don't improve when he takes the tray away. Several times, he catches me staring at him. He asks if I’m okay the first few times, then stares back in silence.

Near the end of the episode, I wonder if he knows I’ve never done this with any other guy? Neither of my boyfriends ever gave me the satisfaction of watching romantic movies or shows with me. What the hell is happening? Suddenly this monster has a soft side? A softer side than both my past boyfriends? What am I doing? I push my hair back, frustrated and exhausted beyond belief with myself. What about Romeo? I haven’t even asked if he killed him? I haven’t… even thought of him. My breath quickens as the guilt tears me apart. I can’t think straight. What is wrong with me? Not just now, but overall.I wipe the tears from my face but he catches sight of my state.

“Astoria, what’s wrong? Is it hurting?”

Oh and now he's concerned about me being in pain? “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop being nice to me. Just stop.”

He pauses the show and studies my face full of rage, confusion, and anguish. “You're tired. Let's get you comfortable to sleep."

"Fuck you! I'm not tired. What are you doing? What is this? Stop it."

"This? This is all for you. I’m definitely not the kind of guy who binges this crap. Be careful what you wish for, little bird.”

I don’t know what to say. I need him to be mean so that I don’t feel guilty, but I can’t possibly bear his callousness. He cups my face and wipes my tears.

“Did you kill him?”

“Who? Jeremy?”

“No. Romeo.” His gaze shifts from one of my eyes to the other. I can see the rage filling his and regret my question immediately.

“That’s who you’re shedding tears for?” he asks through his teeth. Slowly, he shakes his head while making atsk tsk tsksound and narrowing his eyes into slits.

“It’s not–” The fear steals my voice.

“Oh, Astoria…” He chuckles. “Let me give you two pieces of advice. You're a terrible liar. Don't even try it with me. And, don’t you ever say that name in my presence again.”

“That’s not–”

“Shut the fuck up, Astoria!" He yells then sighs at my horrified state. "You need rest.”

The TV turns off and disappears into the ceiling after he slams the remote on the nightstand. I don't say another word.

When I wake up, the darkness engulfs every solid thought and shred of my sanity. I can’t see. My heart runs and my breath tries to catch up. “No. No. No. I was good. I was good.”

“Astoria,” he calls as he wakes and tries to catch my hands.

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