Page 66 of The Southern Submission

“I don't belong here, Payton!” I explode to my feet and pace on my side of the coffee table, away from him. “I’ve done something unforgivable and need to leave. You can't keep me here against my will.”

“You don't have anywhere to go,” he says, his voice serious and quiet. “Your apartment isn’t ready yet, and that fucking hotel isn’t safe for you. You’re staying here, even if I have to chain you to my bed, which sounds like more fun than punishment if you ask me.”

“Why the hell do you want me to stay?” I huff in exasperation, stopping in front of him and slapping my hands against my thighs. “I fucked up and don't deserve to be here or for you to offer me a place to stay out of pity. I’ll be fine on my own wherever I go.”

“Always such a spitfire, spouting off instead of just fucking listening to me.” He shakes his head, skirting the coffee table and rounding on me. I take a step back, but he’s faster, catching me around the hips and tossing me over his shoulder.

“This is ridiculous!” I pound on his back with my fists andkick my legs until he traps them with his arm.

“You're staying with me and we’ll work through this. You don’t get to run away and hide behind your walls this time. You don't get to shut me out or use your anger as a shield. You’re going to let me in and we’ll fuck it out if that’s what it takes, but we’re doing this together.”

I stop pounding on him as we enter our room—no, this is his room, not mine—and he throws me on the bed. I scramble up to my knees growling in anger, watching him warily as he unbuttons his cuffs and begins to roll up his sleeves, which is his way of initiating Dom mode. He’s so calm and collected, his expression almost serene in his determination. It pisses me off. I’d be more comfortable with him throwing me out on my ass and telling me to never show my face around him again for what I did.

“Why do you still want me?” I scream, tears threateningly close to overflowing. I swipe at my eyes, angry that I can’t control my emotions.

Nothing good has ever come to me without strings attached and ready to take a chunk out of me in exchange. There’s no reason to expect anything different now when I’ve seen this happen over and over. I just have to get it through his thick head that he should be done with me and let me go so I can lick my wounds in peace and figure out my next steps.

“I’m the worst thing that’s happened to you. I’ve attacked your family time and again, shared your secrets, called out your business practices, and made you a spectacle. You should hate me more than anyone. Why are you insisting I stay when we both know it’s better if I go?” The tears fall and the weight of my inadequacies and failures forces my head down, unable to meet his eyes. I stare at my hands and hate the words they’ve typed and the hurt they’ve caused.

His fingers press into the bed, meeting mine in the gentlest reminder of our connection. His voice is the deep, commanding rumble I love when he speaks, sending a shiver through me that speaks to my bruised soul.

“My love isn’t fickle. It won’t be easily swayed by one bad day, or a thousand. I gave you my heart and it’ll always be yours. You can stab it as many times as you want, shred it to pieces, or throw it away—it’ll still belong to you.”

The words I’d use to push him away dry up and blow away like husks of the insecurities he’s worked so hard to overcome to get me to trust him. My claws retract and anything prickly I could pull around me is missing from my arsenal after not needing them with a man as patient and understanding as him. He brushes his fingertips against mine and I flex involuntarily. I want so badly to reach for him. Tears drip off my face and drop onto the back of my hands. There’s safety in his touch, even when I don’t deserve it.

“I fight for what I’ve earned, and fucking hell, Ainsley, I earned your trustandyour heart, you can’t deny that.”

My soul’s undergoing a seismic shift that rattles my foundations, toppling everything I could hide behind. Mortar crumbles and bricks clatter from the walls I’ve erected around myself. His fingers inch up, covering mine, taking my tears as I cry harder with each word he patiently utters.

“You’re mine to take care of, and I want to, now more than ever. Your past and what you’ve hidden won’t change that, and nothing will. We can get through this.”

The last of my walls fall, clouds of dust rising within me as everything I’ve used to keep him out is demolished by his steadfast patience and dedication to what we’ve built together, slowly, despite everything I’ve done to avoid him. I raise my burning eyes to meet his and find determination, dominance,acceptance, and understanding staring back.

“Why are you doing this? No one’s ever fought for me before. I’m not worth the effort.”

“Every moment with you is worth the effort. But I don’t need a reason, and you don’t have to earn my love. This is the bare minimum, not the exception. You are deserving of good things even when you fuck up, and I won’t use my love as currency. I give it freely because my soul feels its match in you and I’m not letting that go for any reason now that I’ve found it. I love you, Ainsley.”

“I don’t understand how you can be this forgiving and still love me after you found out what I did. I’m always going to expect this to bite me in the ass down the road, or for you to hold it over my head as leverage of some kind,” I admit, voicing my worst fears.

“The only thing biting you in the ass will be my teeth.”

Thirty-nine

Payton

Ithink I’ve finally gotten through to her. She’s fucking stubborn and intent on driving me away because of what she’s done rather than let me show her we can move past it, but I’ve never lied to her. I’m all in on this and I want her, every flawed, broken, secret-keeping, slow-to-trust part of her.

“Forgiveness is free, but you’re going to clean up the mess you’ve made. There are repercussions that don’t look good for us, my family, or Olympus. First, we have to get your site back from that sniveling asshole with a big fucking mouth I’m going to punch the next time I see him.”

I turn and leave the room, hearing her gasp from where I’ve left her on the bed. I return a moment later with both of our laptops and settle next to her, handing her the black one,indicating the screen.

“How do you usually access your site, not the backup?”

She opens another browser and quickly types in an IP address that I repeat on my own computer. It loads a white screen with fields for a username and password.

“My usual username and password aren’t working, but the username is G0ss1pH0und, capitalize the G and H, the Os are zeros and the I is a one.”

I look at her in amusement. “That’s original.”

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