Page 25 of Taking The Virgin

“Yes.”

“That’s good. Hold onto her nice and tight.”

Then I take a deep breath and do what Mom used to do whenever we had trouble sleeping—I softly sing one of the old ballads she used to roller skate to at the rink when she was a kid. After I’m done, I go right into another soothing love song. When I finish that one, I whisper Jasmine’s name to see if she’s still awake.

She doesn’t answer, so I tell her I love her dearly, then hang up. I slump against the wall, gripping the sheet tightly around me and try my best not to weep. But even as strong as I try to be, tears still slip out. I fight them and fight them, and finally they subside.

Yes, I’m majorly pissed off, but I’m going to make it through the next month, taking everything for what it is. I’m going to have the best sex I’ll ever have so I can make all that money I’ve been promised, but the minute I get soft and imagine that I’m starting to feel something for Owen, I’m going to shut it down. I’m going to take my payment andrun.

Outside the closed door, I think I hear heavy footsteps coming down the passageway. They pause in front of the entrance, and I hold my breath.

Knock, I think. All you have to do is knock and I’ll forgive you for treating me so badly.

There’s a pause so long that my pulse starts to thump in expectation…

But then the footsteps continue as if they never stopped at all, and I hold my phone to my chest as if it’s the only comforting thing I’ve got. My connection to my family.

I let myself cry, but only a little.

Because that’s when anger really begins to take meover.

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