Page 17 of Digit's Deflection
And considering the shitty way I spoke to her in the private room, I wouldn’t blame her for refusing to get in my car. Eventually though, she lowers herself into the seat and waits for me to close the door.
I want to say something to put her at ease, but considering how mad and conflicted I am, I can’t quite find anything that would help. So I just close the door instead before going around to my side of the vehicle. Starting the Mustang, I back up only to realize I have no idea where I’m going.
I first considered taking her to my place, but then figured she’d probably feel less threatened in her own space. So that’s where I intend to go. “What’s your address?”
She turns from staring out the window, a faraway look in her eyes. “Sorry, say again?”
“What’s your address?”
“Why?” The word is like a whip lash, it comes out so fast.
“So I can take you home.” Stopped at a red light at the end of the club’s street, I turn to quirk an eyebrow at her. Liora stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind, and I can feel my temper stir once more. “I’m not in the habit of repeating myself, Liora.”
In the blink of an eye I actually watch the old spitfire I knew come screaming back to life. And while I am seriously pissed at her in this moment, I still love her enough to be relieved that the frightened doe is receding, and that fighting spirit is coming back.
“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass whether you repeat yourself or not. You don’t get to talk to me that way.”
“Hear me clearly, Liora. A lot has changed since you last saw me. Alot. You donotwant to test my patience. Because I can promise, you won’t like the consequences.”
“Are you threatening me?” Her eyes widen, a little in fear, but mostly outrage.
“No, princess. I do not make threats. Only promises.”
“Sounds like a threat, if you ask me.”
“Well, I didn’t. But you can rest assured, I promise that if you keep pushing my buttons, I won’t hesitate to put you over my lap and spank the hell out of that perfectly rounded little ass of yours.”
“You –” She huffs out a breath, and you can see her trying to decide whether I would make good on my promise or not. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Grinning over at her, no humor in the gesture, I reply. “Why don’t you try me. There’s little I enjoy more than turning mouthy subs asses a rosy red.”
For a moment her mouth flaps like a fish out of water, and the hurt boy in me revels in it. Not my finest hour, I will admit, but there you have it.
“I’m nobody’s submissive,” she finally replies, outrage clear in her rigid posture.
“What’s the fucking address, Liora?” I ask as the vehicle behind me honks their horn since I’m standing still on a green light.
The sound makes her jerk, and she rattles the address off. Recognizing the area, I turn left on the light. I can’t say I’m thrilled with the locale, but it’s not the worst neighborhood she could be living in. Unable to find a spot close to her building, I park a little ways down from her front door. Hopping out, I open her door and assist her from the vehicle.
She calls for the little elevator, and when it arrives, I take one look at the car and opt to take the stairs. “I’ll meet you up there,” I say as the door begins to close.
Taking two at a time, I’m waiting for her when the creaking elevator arrives on the floor. “How the hell did you make it up four flights of stairs ahead of this damn thing and you aren’t even breathing hard?” she asks.
“Regular PT. My job depends on it,” is all I reply, following her down the hall to her apartment.
She opens the door to a small unit and stands aside for me to pass her so she can close up behind me. The place is neatly furnished, if a little shabby. And spotless. Not a thing out of place, the surfaces dust-free. Not one for knickknacks much either, by the looks of things.
Liora crosses to the furthest side of the room, not that it’s particularly far, but still. Folding her arms, she simply stands there. I’m distracted by something just above her shoulder height and shift my gaze to the shelf she’s standing next to.
Everything inside me stills as I register the framed photo is one of us taken that fateful summer. If I don’t miss my guess, it might well be the last one taken of the two of us together. I can see the moment she realizes her mistake and snatches the frame from sight, hiding it behind her. I consider saying something, but let it go. There’s enough for us to unpack without getting into the photo.
“Why, Li?” Silence meets my question, so I try again. “You disappeared without a trace, and I still haven’t a clue why. Don’t I at least deserve to know what I did wrong?”
“I–I can’t. I never told another soul. Well, not sober anyway.” Her words hang in the air before plunging straight into my chest. I think it might have hurt less if she’d actually slashed me with a blade.
“You can’t tell me, who is directly affected by it, but you told someone else – someone who has zero connection to the situation?”
“I was incredibly drunk that night, otherwise I probably would have gone to my grave with what happened buried deep inside.” She lapses into silence for a long minute, looking off into the distance somewhere over my shoulder. So quietly I have tostrain to hear her, she asks, “Why did you never come for me? I waited, but you never came, so I moved on.”
