Page 54 of Ramsay

“Why?” I whisper, clutching the door between numb fingers. What did I do that was so fucking wrong?

He shakes his head and I move to go after a minute of silence only to pause when he says, “You don’t get a why because you don’t matter. All of this,” he says, waving at the house before pointing at me. “It’s nothing. You’re nothing. Remember that the next time Ramsay has his dick in your dirty hole.”

Dumbfounded, I step back and let the door close, staring at the side of his face as he puts the vehicle in gear and drives away. He never looks back.

Nothing. Wow. My heart twists with a new kind of pain but I push it into a fucking box and light the damn thing on fire.

Nothing indeed. Fuck you, Oliver. And fuck you, Sinners.

By eight pm, I’ve pulled myself together, although it’s with grim resolve and a good dose of bitterness.

While my parents spoke in low tones downstairs, I snuck into their room and borrowed a dress from my mom’s closet.

She’s shorter than me, so the little black number comes to mid-thigh, cinching at the waist, with the bell skirt swishing around my legs. The sweetheart neckline bares my neck and shoulders, while the tight bodice shows off my generous cleavage. After pulling out the only pair of heels I own, I peruse my form in the mirror.

My long dark hair lays heavy on my shoulders, cascading down my back in gentle curls, and my subtle makeup accentuates my eyes, making the hazel hue pop with green accents.

Forgoing lipstick, I grab my lip balm instead and shove it in my clutch before pausing at the door.

My closet doors hang open and chewing my lip, I shrug. I have time to spare, so I pull out a box of Carmen’s things and rifle through the contents.

I squirreled this box away when we moved, unwilling to let go of the last of her belongings and I’m glad for it, knowing now that she’ll never be coming home.

Her old teddy bear missing one eye stares at me with a sad visage and with a strangled moan, I push it aside. At the bottom, I spy what I’m looking for and pull out a pair of black pumps. They have a wicked heel and the stems glitter with hundreds of gems that create a rainbow of light as I flash them around the room.

Smiling, I mutter, “Perfect. Eat your heart out, Ramsay.”

With a sour taste in my mouth, I pull a long coat over my dress, slip my feet in a pair of boots, and hide the heels under the jacket.

I’m pretty sure I could walk out the front door naked, and my parents wouldn’t stop me, but just in case, I hide my dress and tiptoe down the stairs—all for naught because they’re no longer at the table.

With a long-suffering sigh, which is pointless because I’m the only one who hears it, I wait on the porch, impatiently. The SUV pulls up at exactly eight pm, to no one’s surprise. Ramsay’s anal as fuck.

The back door opens when I approach, and I slide inside next to Ramsay, who sits beside me in a pair of slacks and a stark white button-down shirt. He looks positively sinful, but since I’ve vowed to stay away from these fuckers, I ignore the zing of desire and buckle myself in.

Oliver is behind the wheel, and Diem rides shotgun, neither of whom are dressed for a party, so I assume it will be just Ramsay and me.

“Ah, Willow. Right on time,” Ramsay purrs.

“Fuck off,” I say succinctly, baring my teeth.

The silence that follows my statement is deafening and ignoring the multiple pairs of eyes boring into my skull, I fake a yawn and slip off my boots, trading them out for the heels.

They fit nicely, and I hum under my breath as I admire my calves.

Ramsay chuckles beside me, but I ignore him with an icy cold feeling in my chest because the sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can see the backs of these fuckers.

We fall into silence while Oliver drives, and Diem switches on the music. Loud, heavy metal assaults my eardrums but it fits my mood, so I open my senses to the feel and close my eyes, leaning my head against the headrest.

It’s been a long fucking day. My head hurts from the maelstrom of emotions, and at this rate, I’d rather be fucking Jagger than sitting in a car with these shits, but I made a deal, and I plan to keep my end of it.

My phone buzzes in my clutch, and I pull it out to while away the time, anything to avoid engaging with these fuckers. As though I conjured him with my thoughts, I read through a series of texts I missed earlier with a silent sigh.

Baby, hit me up

Baby, you can't ignore me forever

Baby, we should talk

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