Page 91 of Contention

Well, this is interesting. He’s trying to tell her how to live her life? Who to see? “Jealousy is ugly on you,” Kara whispers. “I don’t belong to you, get that out of your head. If you won’t commit to anything, I refuse to commit to you.That’s how this works. Relationships cannot be one-sided boat wrecks.”

His lips tighten and he looks like he wants to shake sense into her rather physically.

The man is absolutely absurd. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Kara says, giving him a hard look. “Do you want something more between us?”

“No.” His answer is flat and emotionless, which stabs Kara right in the feels. For a second, it hurts too much to breathe, to even formulate a reply.

“Fine. Then get used to not having control of who I see or who I fuck.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. After a moment of looking like he wants to crush her into submission, he deflates. Asking quietly, “Can we do something like this again?”

Something…like…his fantasy?

Giving him a cool look, Kara replies stiffly, “Maybe. If you want to call me and set it up, sure. With meaware.” No way does she want to be caught off-guard like that again. It had felt terrifyingly real.

“Fine. I’ll consider it.” He opens the car door and starts to slide out. Nick gives her one more backward glance and says, “Seeing as that’s what’s going to make you happy, isn’t it?Attention.”

“Just go,” Kara replies cattily, annoyed that he’s figured her out. “Have fun in your fucking sleazy limo. I hope you and Dieter have fun giving each other dirty looks all night.” Kara gives him a thin smile. “Public Service Announcement: he’s in a horrid mood today. Go with God, Nick.”

Stepping out of her car, Nick gives her a stern look, like he’s trying to figure her out. “When is he not in a horrid mood?”

Enjoying having him on the edge, especially after what he just did, Kara crawls into the front seat with as much dignity as she can muster. “I’m not sure yet. Maybe I’ll let you know if I figure it out.”

He reddens, a rush of emotion flashing across his face at the insinuation. Nick steps up to her window and grips her chin firmly, leaning down her kiss her hard. So hard, he nearly takes her breath away. “Have a good night, Kara,” he says huskily, eyes showing a mix of anger and want. “I know tonight I’ll be thinking of how you looked all helpless and desperate, bent over for my cock. Crying. Powerless.” He leans over to her ear and hisses, “It gets me fucking hard. Until next time, sweetpea.”

He releases her roughly, stepping away. Kara watches his back until he’s out of her sight, feeling breathless and strangely lost.Fuck you, she finds herself thinking.

As she drives home, she opens all the windows, needing the combined scent of them to get out of her upholstery. Fast. This was a momentary escape from the other monster in the background of her mind. The one in Arizona, calling her.

It keeps the memory of the voicemail her father left at bay, if only for awhile.

But when she gets home, unable to stop herself, she presses play once more, just to hear her father’s voice, even though it makes her feel like having a heart attack, like vomiting until her guts fall out of her mouth.

Until she feels like digging her own grave.

Later that night, Bianca calls, asking for Kara to go out with her to club.

“No, I’m good. Not really in the mood to socialize or drink tonight,” Kara says into the receiver, sitting crossed legged on her couch, playing with the ice in her glass. Her body aches, bruises turning darker on her hips and thighs. Shameful reminders of what she allowed to happen to her.

Of how she enjoyed it.

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll ask someone else who is in the mood for some dancing. Miss you, bitch,” Bianca replies with fond disappointment. “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me. You are alright, yeah? Are we okay?”

“Yeahyeahyeah,” Kara replies so fast that the words slide into each other. “Miss you, too.”

“Hm. You sound like you’ve been drinking.”

“Stop being a nag, B. I’m just tired. See you next week?”

Bianca goes quiet for a suspicious moment. She senses something; she’s not stupid. “You’dbetterbe just tired. I haven’t heard the ‘yeahyeahs’ from you in years. Go to bed. Call me tomorrow and check in. We’ll dance next week.”

When Kara hangs up, she decides she doesn’t feel like drinking from the glass in front of her, full of ice. Instead, she grabs the fresh bottle of vodka she picked up on the way home and sets her lips to the rim.

The familiar burn down her throat is like a deadly kiss hello.

The warm embrace of feeling nothing at all comes shortly after.

Chapter 22

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