Page 37 of Most Of All

Next, I message Tony; we need to address the fallout from my father’s business. I’ve made it clear I want no part of it. I can breathe a little easier knowing that I don’t have to do any of that shit again. Not if I don’t want to, that is.

As I step into the shower, the hot water washes over me, providing a brief escape. My father's death should have brought a sense of relief, yet it doesn't. While part of me is grateful he’s gone, I resent that Jack’s actions are the reason behind it. He doesn't deserve this twisted form of justice; I know I should have let Raine end him, but I couldn’t bear the thought of her living with that burden. She has already endured more pain than anyone should have to face.

Once I’m finished, I check on Raine before heading to my office. The enormity of the tasks ahead looms large, and I need to tackle it head on. Tony's message about the meeting regarding my father's business hangs in the air. There's no way I'm letting those people near Raine or her dad, not now, not ever.

We decide to hold the meeting in my father's house, a place that feels like both a prison and a battlefield. It’s scheduled for tomorrow night and I’m eager to sweep through it as quickly as possible. Contacting those who need to be there will keep me focused, though the weight of the situation gnaws at me.

I finally emerge from my office when I hear that Howard has arrived. It’s a grim situation, and the doctors work swiftly to set everything up for him, in hopes to aid his recovery from whatever hell Jack unleashed. The doctors still haven’t come back with the results of what he was given, hopefully soon.

Once the initial bustle dies down and the nurses remain, I leave Raine to sit with her dad. My instinct to care for her drives me to the kitchen. Tonight, I opt for something simple yet comforting: sausage casserole and creamy mashed potatoes, just like my mother used to make. It was one of my favorites growing up, and as I cook, I pour my heart into every stir and seasoning I add.

Raine appears just as everything is ready, a testament to her uncanny ability to sense food. I can't help but smile, knowing that even amidst the chaos, moments like this can bring us comfort. I dished everything up, and we made our way outside to eat. I’m going to have to figure out a way to eat around her. I always have a constant hard on each time because of the little noises she makes. I have to keep adjusting my pants and it looks as if I’m playing with myself. I have to wait until she has finished eating to eat mine. She appears blissfully unaware, or at least, if she noticed, she hadn’t breathed a word about it.

“I have a meeting tomorrow at my father’s house,” I inform her.

“Don’t be too hasty with your decision, you have to make the best choice for you,” she says, her eyes etched in concern.

“I will, Sweetheart,” I answer, kissing her head.

After I clear the plates, she follows me back into the kitchen, the air thick with unspoken tension. I sense she wants to say something, so I place the dishes in the dishwasher and turn sharply, cornering her against the counter, our closeness almost palpable.

“Something on your mind?” I growl at her.

“Mmm…Yea, but…”

“Spit it out, Little Wasp,” I interrupt her.

“I was thinking about what we’re going to do with Jack?” She mumbles.

“Jack? You were thinking about Jack?” I say. Disappointment clearly visible in my tone.

“Not like that” she replies, reaching up grabbing hold of my face. “I still want to kill him; I want him to die a slow painful death.”

Cautiously, I glare at her, she retreats back, covering her face with her hands, “Does that make me a bad person?” She asks.

Instantly I embrace her, pulling her close, “It doesn’t make you a bad person, Sweetheart, Jack hurt you and your dad, and killed your mom. It’s only right that you would want him dead,” I say calmly, hoping to soothe her.

“It’s not only that,” she mumbles into my chest, “I think the sight of blood turns me on.”

Embarrassed, she buries her head into my chest, “That is nothing to be ashamed of,” I whisper to her.

Forfuck’ssake!Whatis this endless cycle of getting knocked out? It needs to stop. My side hurts because that bitch stabbed me. I never thought she would have it in her, to be honest, but hell, it’s kinda kinky when you think about it. I scan around the room, that’s if you can even call it that? It’s more like a janitor's closet than anything else.

Now, I'm left trying to figure out what to do from here. What’s the best way to navigate this? It’s clear that Donovan is the one who has me imprisoned in this grim, lifeless room, with chains shackling me to the wall. Who the fuck still uses chains in this day and age? He really should get with the times.

I thought he wanted me dead, yet here I am, alive and…well, still trapped. What twisted plans could he possibly have for me now? Is he just going to leave me here, locked away and utterly forgotten, as if that strategy had ever worked for him before?

It did for me, at least Grey is dead. That’s a weight off my mind in and of itself. That man really liked the sound of his own voice. My mother said he was a liar, and he proved that, especially with all the shit he was spewing. And trying to blame it all on her? Please. The son of a bitch couldn’t tell the difference between his ass and his elbow.

If this fucker Donovan wants to keep me alive, he better feed me. I’m starving, I can’t even remember when I ate last. A slice of bread would not go unnoticed about now.

What about prisoners' rights? Because there’s no comfort here. There’s not even a pot to piss in. What if I need to piss? Does he want me to piss myself? It’s not like I can move much in these chains.

I better stop thinking about it, otherwise I’ll need to go. I suppose I can just get comfortable before the ‘lord of the manor’ summons me. I need to be at my best when the time comes.

Ican’tbelieveIjust said that out loud, but it’s been running through my mind since earlier. Chaotically ruling my thoughts.

I just can’t handle being judged. Thankfully, Don doesn’t seem phased by it. Unexpectedly, he picks me up, slinging me over his shoulder and I squeal loudly, “Don, put me down.”

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