Page 43 of The Southern Submission

My phone vibrates on the bed between us, the screen lighting up with an unknown number texting me. We both lookdown at the same time and I quickly put my hand over it, hoping he didn’t see the screen. I swipe away the notification as my heart hammers a rapid staccato beat. It vibrates again and I silence it.

“Who’s texting you from an unknown number, Ainsley?” Payton asks evenly as he gives me an inscrutable look.

“Probably spam,” I evade. “I need to block it. Happens a lot.” My face heats as I evade his probing eyes.

“Why would a spam number mention my name and call you a fucking whore?” Payton’s voice is deadly quiet and I’ve never seen him look so serious. There’s no trace of his usual smile or effervescent energy. He doesn’t even get the same reaction using the word whore now, in a different context. I guess it’s good to know I don't have to worry about always reacting to the word, only to the way he uses it in certain situations.

I sit up and bring my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them to keep from shaking. “It’s nothing. Just some ex drama I’m dealing with.”

Payton sits up against the headboard and pulls me between his legs until I’m leaning into his chest. He wraps his arms around me, holding me together, too.

“What about you being with me makes your ex want to call you names?” he asks quietly as he runs his fingers through the ends of my hair, sending goosebumps dancing along my skin.

God, why does him holding me feel good? I shouldn't like the way he’s comforting me, and there’s no reason for him to even care, yet for some reason, I know he does. The way his whole demeanor changed told me everything. And now I want to tell him everything. I sigh and shift deeper into his hold, his arms closing tighter.

“This is personal to him. Olympus led a hostile takeover of his father’s company a few years ago, but it was after we brokeup, so I wasn't around to know the details. It’s no surprise that created bad blood he’s not over. We’ve been broken up for years, but he contacted me a few weeks ago out of the blue after he saw us on the Atlanta Haute List. He’s been pretty nasty in his messages, which was standard for the end of our relationship. I changed my number when I left New York after our breakup, but he’s kind of a tech genius, like you, and has always had a way of finding information, so I guess he tracked me down. I’ve blocked every number he’s used, but he hasn’t stopped.”

“Who’s your ex, Ainsley?” Payton asks quietly next to my ear, his fingers stilling the delicious movement in my hair.

“His name is Archer Donovan. Do you remember taking over Donner Investments? That was his father’s company.” I partially turn to look at Payton’s face. “His dad was part of the group that went to prison last year for orchestrating all that stuff with the mine collapse y’all were framed for. It’s no surprise Archer’s pissed at me.” I let my head fall back against his shoulder in frustration before leaning forward again.

Payton swears under his breath. “No, Princess. You’re not to blame for anything and Archer shouldn’t be taking his frustration out on you, even through texts. His issue is with Olympus and what we did. He’s cyberstalking you.” He brushes my hair away from my neck, kneading at the tension that’s jacking my shoulders toward my ears.

“He has easier access to me to take that frustration out on, so I’ll be fielding his aggressive texts, not Olympus. Mmm, that feels good.”

Payton has magic hands, strong enough to work out the knots that have settled in my overly tense muscles but gentle enough to send shivers racing down my arms and to lower places.

“Tell me how you met Archer.” His voice is quiet as he works at stubborn knots in my shoulders and neck. This could be a very effective interrogation tactic because I’m willing to tell him anything as he touches me like this. I even want to grind my ass against him a little. I don’t care if that’s his motive. It feels too damn good.

“I worked at Donner Investments as a summer job before I started my grad program at NYU.” My words are quiet as I sink back into the sludge of memories that are hard to dredge up, knowing where the story ends. “My scholarships wouldn't cover as much of my tuition so I needed more money than my internships or odd jobs were getting me. The admin position a friend hooked me up with paid better than anything else I’d had before. Mmm, right there. Good God, your hands are amazing.”

He chuckles. “I’ll leave that comment alone for now, but know it’s taking everything not to crack an inappropriate joke.” He ghosts his lips over the shell of my ear and I shiver. “Keep going with your story, Princess.” His voice carries that note of command that stirs something low in my body as his hands work up my neck, effectively turning me into putty in his grip. It takes me a moment to collect my thoughts through his effect on me.

“Archer came into the office occasionally. He liked to lord it over us plebeians who had to work for our paychecks and found it funny that his father was always stressed over the market and deals. He hated everything his father did.”

“He sounds like a real winner,” Payton deadpans.

I laugh quietly and drop my head down, remembering seeing Archer around the office and being attracted to his tall, blond, lean build and cocky attitude, but knowing he was off-limits because of who he was. It made him that much moreappealing.

“I was taking notes on a deal, and Archer saw me when I left the meeting. He followed me back to my floor and asked me out. I turned him down. I knew about him and didn’t want to get myself into trouble or lose the one job that was actually paying decently. Archer’s a narcissist, but I didn't know that at the time, so he took it hard that I wasn’t instantly his and I became a challenge. He pursued me all summer, and I agreed to give him a chance when my internship was up, thinking it was finally a safe time.”

“It sounds like things turned ugly for you if you realized he was a narcissist and was nasty to you.”

Payton sweeps his thumbs up the sides of my spine and I moan at the incredible way it feels. Not seeing his face while I reveal this makes it easier to divulge the details. At least it’s been the simple stuff so far. Now he’s asking for the hard. The lump already rises in my throat as I dig for the strength to open this box, share the ugly truths, and reveal my weaknesses to a man who’s far too similar to Archer, at least on the surface.

“He was great at first. Attentive, doting, made me feel so special, and like the only woman in the world who mattered. I was so dumb. I realized later that’s exactly what a narcissist does. A few months in, he asked me to move in with him. He wanted me to focus more on school and not worry about paying rent. It was too good to be true and I was head over heels for him, so I was thrilled. But he quickly changed. He became possessive and controlling. He didn’t want me to hang out with my friends and demanded all my time be spent with him. He said he cared and didn’t like when we were apart, but he was jealous if I wasn’t focused on him. He even interfered with school and work. I kept my newspaper internship but quit my waitressing job because he didn’t like me out late,so I became financially dependent on him, as well as dependent on him for my housing. He was super manipulative. Every argument became my fault when I knew he was the cause. It was so messed up. He had the upper hand at that point and I didn’t know what would happen if we broke up over something stupid, so I’d apologize to end the fights. I was walking on eggshells, trying not to upset him, worried that I’d suddenly be left without anywhere to go or a way to get by. It was scary to realize later just how much he’d manipulated my situation so I needed him for everything and couldn't leave even when I wanted to.”

I shrink with this admission, becoming smaller as I round over my knees away from Payton’s hands. I hate this part of the story. I was so weak and stupid. To not realize that was gaslighting…God, listen to me, I’m still making it my fault. I don’t want to admit the rest because it only gets worse from here and it’s already bad enough.

“He sounds like a fucking nightmare. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.” Payton pulls me back against him, threads his long fingers into my hair, and massages my scalp, eliciting a little moan from me as my body relaxes against his minutely. “Tell me the rest of what he did to you. I know that’s not the worst of it. I want to know everything.”

I sigh and squeeze my eyes shut. “He tracked my phone, I think, because he’d call or text and ask who I was with and why I was at a certain place if I hadn’t told him I was going to be there. It was all super weird. I knew it wasn’t healthy, but I was in so deep by then I couldn’t end things. Where could I even go and how could I pay for it? I’d alienated all my friends and I didn’t have a way to afford a Manhattan apartment on my own. It was such a change afterhe’d been so good to me, at first.”

I sniff and force the tears that blur my vision not to fall. I won’t let Archer make me cry again. I clear my throat and shake my head. He’s had enough of my tears. Enough of my anxiety, my fear, my pain. But not tonight.

“His parents hated me. They made sure to mention that I was a scholarship student from the South every time I had to see them as if that somehow made me less. They insisted he’d never marry someone like me and made it known they thought I was dating him for his money. I guess it looked that way. I was living with him and he was paying for everything. Looking back, that’s probably what he wanted them to think. How sick is that?”

I shake my head, shame settling over me as I unburden myself of the shadows of my past to a man who is too much like Archer in his wealth and status that he could think the same things. Payton could be a carbon copy of Archer if he wanted to be, given a malicious streak. I should worry what he’ll think of me after hearing how naive and dumb I was to fall for someone like Archer and his manipulations. I’m supposed to be smarter than this.

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