Page 115 of Dirty Husband
I offer them the limo. Send her aunts home with Lock.
Knowing Lock… I'm sure he'd make that literal if they invited him.
No, he values his job too much for that. Or at least, that's what I like to believe. Money buys a lot of loyalty, but it never gets to one hundred percent. Some things aren't for sale.
Ian tries to invite me out for a drink to celebrate—surely, I can bust out the sparkling apple cider for this kind of occasion—but I decline. He means the shit about the apple cider.
He won't let me order bourbon.
He can't stop me. No one can stop me from walking into the nearest hotel bar and demanding a double.
No one can stop me from throwing this opportunity away.
That's all it takes. One drink and she can leave.
One drink and she will leave.
That can't happen. No matter how badly I need to dull the sharp edges.
I push the thought aside on the way home. But it's impossible. By the time I step foot in my apartment, it's the only thing in my head.
I need a drink.
I need a drink.
I need a drink.
It screams at me. The edges get sharp. My thoughts turn ugly.
Something to stop it. Anything to stop. Anything to make me forget I'm still under that bastard's thumb.
My fucking staff is too effective. There's nothing in the kitchen or my office.
Key's room is locked.
Jasmine's is empty.
But that crimson bed—it gives me ideas. For a way to erase these thoughts. A way to feel in control.
The only way.
I go to my office.
It's easier to breathe. He infects the room less.
But he still infects it.
Knowing he's out there, finding ways to pull my strings, finding ways to lord this over me—
I'm not sure what's worse. Him winning. Proving he controls me again.
Or him deciding that Jasmine truly does love me. Thinking I truly love her.
If he knows he can use her to hurt me—
He will.
I don't know how Nick stands it. I'm sure he'd say something about how I'm letting that bastard control me. How he refuses to do that.
