Page 23 of Forever Fake

He was great the first few months we were together. We had a ton of fun. I even introduced him to my family. My first long-term boyfriend—first actual boyfriend, instead of a one night stand. I thought I was finally on the right track with my love life, but then… He started acting differently. Just little things at first, a cutting comment, pushing me to do something I didn’t like, always wanting to know where I was when we weren’t together.

Then he started to get violent during sex. He’d call me a slut and a whore, and slap me around. I’d break up with him. He’d come crawling back, apologize, and stupidly, I believed him. The final straw for me was when he made that video of us. That video…

Bile rises up and I quickly swallow it back down. I can’t think about that right now. I have more immediate problems.

The crazy thing is, I half expected Oliver to use that video to blackmail me. Instead, I’m getting blackmailed over a trinket. Yeah, I never saw Mr. Baron coming, that’s for sure.

When I arrive at his brownstone, he’s not home, but the housekeeper lets me in.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” I ask her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t. He doesn’t keep a regular schedule, so I can’t say for sure. However, he did leave us all instructions for moving you in. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to your room and give you a tour of the house.”

“I’d like to see my room, please.”

“Yes, miss. This way.”

We climb the staircase to the second floor. All the way at the end of the hall, she opens a door and steps aside. “You’re in here, Miss Pontrelli.”

One glance at the bedroom and my heart stutters. Maybe it’s the scent of his cologne drifting through the air and the sight of his clothes hanging in a small walk-in closet that has me on pins and needles.

“This is Blake’s room,” I blurt.

“Yes, I know.” She gives me a confused look. “Were you expecting something else?”

“I, uh…” Shit. How am I going to explain this? “We’re not even engaged yet, so I thought I’d be staying in a guest room.”

“Oh.” Her brows draw together. “I don’t think Mr. Baron’s concerned about that sort of propriety. He specifically left instructions to put your things in his bedroom. I’m afraid you’ll have to take it up with him, but until then…” She shrugs.

Until then, there’s nothing I can do about it.

Just as I turn to follow her on a tour of the house, the movers arrive and start bringing all of my worldly belongings into Blake’s room. This is really happening.

Shit, shit, shit.

My whole life is moving under his roof, into his domain, and I know for a fact that he’s going to try to control every bit of it—of me. For the next fourteen months, I’m his puppet. His to do with as he wants.

Why the fuck did I agree to this? I must have been insane.

My new reality sinks beneath my skin, grows claws, and scrapes at my pounding heart. All I’ve ever wanted was freedom, and now I’m more trapped than ever. This is a nightmare.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” I turn on my heel and literally run out of the house.

As I sway my body, the beat hammers deep into my bones, pulsating and pounding. It’s around ten in the evening on a weeknight, butRiotis packed with writhing, sweaty bodies on the dance floor. My head spins as I undulate up against the solid walls of muscle around me. I’ve been dancing for hours, I can tell by the burning and shakiness of my limbs.

But I’m going to keep dancing, and drinking, until all thoughts of Blake are out of my head.

I stumble toward the bar and wave the bartender over. “Tequila. Two shots, please.”

She briefly studies my face, but doesn’t cut me off. Not yet anyway. When she sets the shots in front of me, I down them oneright after the other. I’ve lost count of how many I’ve had today, but it’s enough that the burn’s barely noticeable in my throat.

I put the drinks on my tab, then step back onto the crowded dance floor. Immediately, I’m swallowed whole by hot bodies and jostled deeper into the club. Wordlessly, we all move together as one writhing mass.

Hands grope my hips, slide over my shoulders. A stranger presses himself against my back and I grind my ass into his crotch. I lose myself in his touch, in the beat of the music, I let it all go. All of my anger, worries, and fears. They spill all around me and disappear into the crowd. It’s bliss. Relief. Just for one night.

Another man comes close and sandwiches me between their two hard bodies. He says something, but I can’t make it out over the music.

The room begins to spin, tipping to one side, and I blink sweat out of my eyes. If this were any other night, I might go home with one of these guys. Only to wake up in the morning without a single memory of what happened, just vague impressions. But even as drunk as I am, I know that tonight’s different. I don’t belong to myself anymore. Not really. Because I belong tohim.

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