Page 53 of Destined for the Devil
My lust and attraction for him were overwhelming in the best possible way. We fucked, and we made love on every surface in his entire huge penthouse. In the last three weeks I had more orgasms than in my entire life before him. I wanted his hands and lips on me non-stop, and he happily obliged, giving me everything I wanted and taking everything I would give him.
It was both rough and sensual, and those two juxtaposing approaches satisfied my hunger for him…but never fully.
Sometimes, I’d catch myself wondering if I cared that he was ten years older. If I were to think about it logically, nothing between us made sense. We were from different worlds, different ages—polar opposites. But I couldn't,I couldn'tunravel my thoughts or my body from him.
The first week of work was coming to an end, and I ran home a little earlier than usual, showered, changed, and cozied up in the corner of the couch with a textbook. I only had an hour before Roman came home, and I used the time as productively as I could, but a knock on the front door interrupted me mid-paragraph.
Weird. I momentarily wondered if I should get it. A few seconds passed, and I went back to reading, but the knock sounded again, louder this time. My curiosity got the best of me, and I approached the door to look through the peephole. Two young women were on the other side, waiting for the door to open.
Tall and fit, they both looked like models. One had long wavy blonde hair, and the other had long jet-black hair. They chatted to each other, casually laughing between themselves, but then the blonde knocked again.
I jumped back from the sound, but then, without thinking about it, for some reason I swung the door open.
There was a second of silence as we looked each other over—just enough time for my heart to start its freefall.
"Um, hi? Is Roman home? We’re a little late." The dark-haired model spoke to me like we were in high school, with the same tone of constant disapproval.
"No. Can I help you with something?" I responded confidently, my hands breaking out in cold sweat. I hoped to God this was not what I thought it was.
"We'll just wait for him then." The blonde piped up and literally pushed me out of the way to walk inside with her companion. I was fucking stunned! Who thefuckwere they? Okay, fine, this wasn’t my apartment, but I fucking lived here! With my boyfriend!
Speechless from their audacity, I watched how they strolled toward the living room, as if they owned the place. The dark-haired girl sat down while the blonde headed to the kitchen!
“You want something to drink?” She turned and asked her friend, as if I were invisible.
What the actualfuckwas going on?!
"Um, I'm sorry, who are you? And—and what are you doing here?" I finally asked the question, my previous confidence gone without a trace.
"Sweetheart? You work here, I gather? Can you make me a coffee? Just black, no sugar." The blonde came back with a water bottle and interrupted me without shame. "Roman likes 'em slim." She chuckled at the brunette while running her hands down her hips.
My mind was descending into pure hell. Such bitter disappointment accosted all of me, anger and betrayal not far behind. These were obviously Roman's...women.
I vehemently tried to engage my logical brain. This made no sense. Why the hell would they show up here? Roman said he loved me; I knew it. Ifeltit. Why were these girls here?!
My shock must have been written all over my face because the brunette finally answered my question. "Roman called us. Can you make sure you're done cleaning and cooking before he comes?" She shot me a fake smile that disappeared within an instant.
"Oh! And please don't forget the coffee. No sugar.” The blonde repeated, as if I didn’t hear her the first time. “I know he has no milk or anything."
My legs grew into the floor as I stood there blazing, feeling all kinds ofinadequate and inferior. Like I was not good enough. Like this was my fault.
My skin was crawling from the thought—she’d been here before; she knew he had no milk for coffee. She spent time with him, drank coffee with him...been in his arms.
The urge to burst into tears was overtaking me, but I swallowed my pain and responded quietly, "I don't know how to make coffee. You're welcome to do it yourself." The blonde scoffed and rolled her eyes before turning around and strutting to the kitchen.
I grabbed my textbook off the couch and, absolutely defeated and heartbroken, plopped down at the dining table, facing the kitchen, in perfect view of the two intruders in the living room.
I focused on breathing in and out. The textbook blurred behind my tears, and my heart clenched, collecting all the blood away from my extremities. Whatever this was, it felt terrible. Like someone wrapped their long fingers around my neck, strangling me slowly, making sure I still heard and saw his duplicity.
Was I really this much of an idiot? Was Roman really deceiving me like this? Calling these women to meet him in the home we shared together when I was supposed to be at work?
My thoughts were tangled, unsure of which truth to seek. I couldn’t move, couldn’t abandon this situation. I had to power through and wait to see what Roman would have to say for himself.
The two intruders sat on the couch and chatted about something. Every once in a while, they would throw glances in my direction and giggle. Finally, after what felt like a fucking decade, Roman's keys jingled in the door, and he walked in, calling out a sweet hello to me like usual.
My heart thudded against my ribcage, both petrified and monumentally pissed off. As if rehearsed, the two women sang in unison. “Hi, Roman!” They giggled at their own greeting, their laughtercarrying across the whole apartment.Our home.
Roman’s slow footsteps approached the living room, all my oxygen cut off from what was about to happen. He came into view and froze at the sight of them. His gaze darted across the room looking for something, and he found it—me. Guilt and embarrassment reflected in his eyes, as if he were trying to silently apologize. The pain from this stab in the heart amplified with each passing moment.
