Page 73 of Vicious Little Princess

“Say it. Say it again.”

I shuddered as the memory of uttering that one word played on my mind, coming to the fucking forefront once again.

It had been so much more than a word.

It had been me giving Angelo want he’d wanted.

Giving in.

Cracking.

“Mmm, yes, you’ll break for me so beautifully.”

Was that what had happened?

Had he actually succeeded?

HadIactually failed to hold out?

I thought I’d been delirious at the time, but I still remembered saying that word, begging him like that. According to my doctor and Milo, I’d been really sick, really fucked-up. But did that matter? I’d still given in, hadn’t I?

I’d only uttered those words to get him to stop.

He’d tried to skew it into making me believe I’d actually been begging him to fuck me, when I’d really been desperate for him to stop torturing me, to end the whole twisted thing.

“I want you to know it’s me who did this to you. I want you to feel every moment of it and have it ingrained deep down, so you’ll never be able to fucking forget that I made you my little bitch.”

Gritting my teeth, I closed the lid of my laptop after getting up at the crack of dawn to deal with Carver Group business. My mind hadn’t been as clear as I would have liked, so it had taken longer than it normally would have to see to things. It had been a struggle, actually.

I’d been telling myself that it was the painkillers and my body needing longer to heal. And maybe it was partially, but there was also definitely an element to it that wasn’t just physical.

An element I was having trouble acknowledging.

Just like I didn’t want to acknowledgehimin those flashes.

That was what he wanted. What he’d even said repeatedly that he’d wanted to do to me. To have what he’d subjected me toingrained in me deep downso I wouldn’t be able to forget it.

Worse, so he could control, taunt, and torture me even though I was no longer there in that hellhole with him.

I grabbed my cane and pushed to my feet.

It was a flashy thing—just my style—that Cat had got for me. My favorite cobalt-blue covered in a whole lot of glitz and glitter and even boasting a gold handle that was jeweled. She’d gone all out with it and it made me smile whenever I looked at it or walked around with it.

Milo had also gone all out by working his ass off to get me a replica of my pimped out Harley made after it had been totaled in that crash. He’d been on the phone to parts suppliers and mechanics for days on end.

And Nico had also pulled out all the stops by basically converting one of his living rooms—his favorite one at that—into a suite for me. He’d brought in a ton of things. A bed, a portable closet, a freaking gaming system, mountains of books and DVDs, an epic flatscreen TV. This room was even right next door to the big ground floor bathroom that had the Jacuzzi tub inside it, along with a waterfall shower. It meant I didn’t have to walk up any stairs while I still wasn’t the best on my feet.

Like I said, all of them walking on eggshells.

It was sweet; I knew that.

Loving and beyond caring. So thoughtful.

But I couldn’t take another moment of it, of being treated like I was a victim, like I needed the special treatment, like I was fragile.

I didn’t want this to impact me like it had before when my father had… done what he had.

I couldn’t go through that again.

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