Page 117 of Contention

He’s staring at her, eyes burning holes into the side of her face. “I don’t care about her, you know-”

“You don’t care about me, either. You only care about the way I make you feel.” Kara snaps, seeing her new master tapping his wrist in the doorway, telling her to wrap it up faster. She wouldn’t put it past Dietrich to find and bring Claire over just to watch the chaos unfold.

A hand grips her chin, forcing her stinging gaze back to Nick’s stone cut features. “How can you say I don’t care about you when I’ve shared my deepest desi-” he cuts himself off sharply, his throat tightening visibly with emotion.

Nick barely covers up a sneer, an expression of self-hatred crawling across his face.

“I’m done.” Kara wants to sit down and cry, wants to shove her hand into her chest and rip out her beating heart and give it to him. “Just…leave me alone. You’ve hurt me enough for one lifetime.”

A rough hand grabs her by the chin and lips cover hers in a consuming, possessive kiss, stealing her breath away. Before Kara can even respond, Nick pulls away from her, eyes wild and angry as he turns, leaving her all twisted and broken inside.

Dietrich collects her as Nick angrily strides out of the hall, heading back towards the party. It feels like every step he takes is on her heart, smashing it. Kara can hear Claire’s cultured tone ringing out, asking him where he’s been all this time. She can’t even hate the woman; it isn’t Claire’s fault. It’s his. This pain has been caused by no one other than Nick. He should have known better.

He shouldn’t have put Kara in this position.

He shouldn’t have played with her emotions this way. Worse yet; Kara shouldn’t have given him the opportunity to worm into her heart, like a poison.

“Don’t look so down,” Dietrich drawls lightly, looking handsome even with shadows playing on his features. His eyes look like midnight pits, the green being eaten by an emotion that Kara can’t read. “Pain is temporary. Usually, anyway.”

“I don’t want you to give me a pep talk, Dieter,” Kara says with a tremor that she can’t hide. “I want you to leave me alone.”

His arm brushes hers as he gives her a gentle nudge. “And I want three cunts fighting over my dick tonight, but we can’t all get what we want, now can we?”

“I’m not in the mood for your vileness!” She wipes at her eyes angrily, hating him for seeing her like this.

She’s weak.

Dietrich sighs, looking very well put together. Too well put together. He’s so beyond her league that Kara feels like a rat witnessing some sort of deity waltzing around in a tailored suit. “You never have to wonder where you stand with me,” he says coolly, eyes glittering. His pupils are utterly normal; no cocaine tonight it seems. “I’m using you and...”

Kara sneers at him, ready to clock him in the mouth.

“You’re using me,” he continues, as if unconcerned about the expression on her face. “It’s a beautifully simple relationship. Symbiotic.”

She’s still not sure what he’s getting out of this and it makes her suspicious. It can’t totally be about pissing off Nick. No, there has to be something else that Dietrich is after. It can’t be good. She remains silent.

“We have a lot to do, you and I.” He continues idly. “We’re going to have so much fun. I can be nice, you know.”

That’s what Kara’s afraid of.

That, and whatever other morally grey things he’s involved in, putting everything she’s worked so hard for at risk. Making a monster of her. A liar.

You made the bargain to stay above water, Kara. Now, sink or swim in it. He’s going to twist you up regardless.

He takes her hand and pulls her to the elevators. Kara goes with him numbly, suddenly no longer caring about keeping up appearances at the party. What does it matter now; she’s already with the person who owns her.

Outside, the night air is tolerable compared to the heat of bodies in the office. Dietrich lights a cigarette, even making the act of inhaling look sexual. Kara hates that about him; everything he does feels like foreplay to her. “Since when do you smoke?”

“When I feel like it. Usually when I’m lit,” he replies huskily, coughing slightly. A social smoker.

Kara’s phone rings loudly and she jumps to pull it out of her back pocket. “Kara Hayes,” she answers, feeling Dietrich’s eyes on her.

“Kara? It’s Ray. You won’t believe this, but we finally found The Room. We found videos. The place is in Paxton Brooker’s name; he’s been paying taxes on it for three years. Kara. Kara? You there?”

It’s like standing in ice cold water, a full body shiver encasing Kara at his words. They found it. They finally fucking found that horrid place.

Shakily, she whispers, “Yeah. I’m here. What’s happening? How…are we proceeding?”

Ray sounds like he’s been pounding energy drinks and chain-smoking. A very likely thing, too. His speech cadence is fast, excitable. More energy than is possibly containable. “Paxton has been under house arrest for a few months, but this changes things. We are going to be bringing him in for questioning. Let Derrick Benson know. This is going to court on new charges. Our DA may want to pursue it.”

---