Page 53 of Oblivion

Furrowing my brow, I take the box and carefully lift the lid. Inside is the most beautiful cream leather Louis Vuitton backpack with gold chains sewn into the straps. It’s beautiful.

“Where did you get this?” I ask, lifting the bag out and running my fingers over the butter-soft leather.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it. But where did you get it? I didn’t know they did this design in this size.”

“They don’t. I called in a favor and had them make this for you. I know you wanted it but didn’t buy it because your laptop and school stuff wouldn’t fit.”

“You had them make me a bag just so I could fit my laptop in it?” I ask incredulously, my gaze drifting from the bag to his face.

“Yes,” he says.

A shocked giggle bursts from my lips. “How?”

He shrugs.

“This is…” I almost say, “Too much,” but that doesn’t feel adequate. The miniature version of this bag in the store was three thousand dollars, and he had this bigger one made especially for me. I didn’t even know they did that.

“Here,” he says, taking the box and the bag from my lap and replacing them with a smaller box.

This one holds a brand-new, brushed-gold MacBook. “Evan, I?—”

“This is the latest model. It’s faster than your other one, plus it matches your new backpack,” he tells me, his lips curved into a small smile.

“I…”

Before I have a chance to figure out what to say, he takes the laptop and places it beside the bag on the couch, then hands me another box. This one is full of school supplies.

“Evan, you didn’t need to…My stuff will be here soon,” I protest weakly.

“I had Clay set up the laptop and sync it with your old one, so you’ll still have access to your iCloud and music.”

“You didn’t need to do?—”

His brows furrow and his lips pull into a scowl. “I know I didn’t have to. That’s not the point. You’re mine, and I take care of the things that belong to me.”

“Evan…” I start to protest, but he pushes the supplies from my lap and yanks me to my feet, silencing me when my chest slams into his.

“Shh. You’re too tired to argue with me today, remember?” he says as he dips his head and kisses me like he’s trying to erase all of the thoughts from my head just with his lips. “That’s better,” he says as he pulls back. “I never thought I’d enjoy you being pliant, but it does have its moments.”

Scoffing, I nod. “You’re an asshole. But thank you for the bag. I love it and for the laptop and school stuff too.”

“You’re welcome. Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Because I have one last gift. Then we need to get over to the administration offices.”

“I will scream if you try to tattoo me again.”

Chuckling, he loosens his hold on me and takes a step back. “Don’t worry, Wild One, I’ll sedate you before I put more ink on you.”

There’s not an ounce of mirth in his tone, despite him smiling widely, and in this moment, he truly looks like the psychopath I’ve accused him of being.

“Close your eyes, Sammy.”

I don’t know why I do it. Every ounce of self-preservation inside of me is screaming at me to run, to get away from him. But I don’t move. I can’t move. I’m locked in his gaze, frozen to the spot by the terrifying intensity of his expression.

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