Page 42 of Cuffed By Love

Don't you dare cry,Mira. Not here, not the fuck now.

No matter what, forever and always, I've got you.

That was what we promised one another. Devin King broke that promise and nulled its significance the day he took off without a word and left me behind utterly distraught. Where was he two years ago when I really needed him? Seven thousand miles away, that's where. In the arms of his girlfriend while I was laid up in a hospital bed nursing my fractured cheekbone and broken ribs. Having your bones shattered hurt, yet the pain is almost next to nothing compared to the betrayal and devastation he has caused me. Bones and bruises heal eventually, but the heart never forgets. I was foolish to believe that my heart wouldn't miss what it couldn't see. Because I did, and a big part of me still does, even if I hate to admit that.

And here he is, comforting me, looking at me with those deep chocolate eyes, full of meaning while breaking down my defences one bit at a time. What do you do when your heart is crammed with all the words you want to say to him? Everything I've kept buried the last ten years is just bursting at the seams, ready to pour right out of me.

As much as I'm dying to, there is no point, is there? Not when he's only going to leave again anyway. Now that I know he's got a girlfriend, it's all the more reason to put up the barriers between us. What happened this morning cannot happen again. It's not right, and I'm not nor will I ever be the type of girl who breaks up a relationship. I've been cheated on, so I know how it feels. I won't ever allow myself to be that girl. Fortunately for me, I'm somewhat of an expert at hiding my feelings where Devin King is concerned—not that I still love him or anything. I never quite figured out what I felt for him. What I had with Devin was different compared to my past relationships.

I can honestly say I've lost what little faith I had in love when my first supposed love left after we slept together, and the second broke my heart along with a couple of my bones to go with it. So, to say I have some deep rooted issues trusting men that runs a mile long is the understatement of the century.

I've been broken one too many times, emotionally and physically.

Scott Taylor. The first boy I really allowed myself to fall in love with gave him two years of my life that I will never get back. The boy that slowly and painfully siphoned the life right out of me. Just thinking of his name makes the blood run ice cold in my veins. Of all the decisions I have ever made in my life, he's been the worst of them all. My utmost regret.

When Scott and I met, I was certain he would be the man that I’d marry one day. I had found the perfect man; he was an investment banker, successful and charismatic. We met at a mutual friend’s birthday party. Our eyes met across the room, and it was an instant attraction. He oozed confidence with his bright blue eyes and panty-melting smile. He was an absolute dream and checked all the right boxes. Charming, good looking, ambitious, romantic with just enough bad in him that made him irresistible to me. Scott had every quality I yearned for in a partner.

The first year of our relationship, we were blissfully happy, utterly smitten. We fell for one another hard and fast and without caution. Scott would send me flowers every day, take me out to romantic dinners, whisk me away to surprise getaways, and the sex...my God, the sex was out of this world. Scott was an animal in the bedroom. You wouldn't think it looking at him. He was all prim and proper during the day, swathed in his expensive suits, but behind closed doors, he'd transform into this dominant, beast-like sex god, and I was all for it.

Soon enough, though, the ugly in him started to show. That bubble of perfection and blissful contentment I was living in went and exploded in my face. It's like a switch suddenly flipped, and he became a completely different person from the sexy, charming guy I fell in love with.

Scott became overly possessive and not in the sexy way we girls find attractive. No, he would get jealous over silly things; for example, if we were eating dinner and he noticed another man even glance in my direction, he'd get annoyed and would make a show of staking his claim on me in public. I thought it was cute at first, but it just got out of control to a point I couldn't bear it anymore. I felt more like his property rather than his girlfriend.

Wyatt saw the signs and tried to warn me, and I wish now that I had listened to him, but I was in love with him and in too deep to recognise the red flags. Scott was manipulating me, and I foolishly fell for it every single time. Things between us got more and more toxic, and his behaviour just got worse. We'd fight and break up, and he would come back and apologise, convince me that he was only acting out because he's crazy about me and he was afraid of losing me. I stupidly forgave him every single time, ignoring the obvious signs and warnings from everyone around me.

Things got better for a few weeks, and then he started controlling what I wore, who I would spend time with and talk to. He somehow convinced himself that Wyatt was faking being gay and was in love with me. They almost got into a fist-fight over it. That drove a giant wedge between Wyatt and me. It got so bad that he moved out for a while. I lost contact with my friends, trying to make my relationship with him work. While making every effort to please him, it didn't occur to me that I was slowly losing myself.

On our two year anniversary, Scott and I were supposed to go out for dinner to celebrate. I pathetically sat waiting over two hours for him to pick me up. I was convinced something had happened to him when he wouldn't answer my calls until he rolled in some time past midnight, half pissed.

I was livid that he not only stood me up on what was supposed to be our anniversary, but he didn't even have a speck of decency to call and let me know that he wasn't coming. Our relationship was barely hanging on by a thread as it was, but that was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. Right alongside it, my endurance for his bullshit. We got into a heated argument when I told him I was done, and I wanted him to pack up his shit and get out. He outright refused to leave, even had the nerve to tell me I was overdramatic, and he promised he would make it up to me. More empty promises, but this time I was having none of it. I was through with being his doormat.

In a rage, he called me an ungrateful, spoilt little bitch just before he slapped me hard across the face with such force I hit the floor. It felt as if time had stopped entirely while I sat in a heap on the ground, my heart beating like crazy against my ribcage. If it weren't for the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth, causing my stomach to roll and the painful ache of my cheek, I would have never believed that he hit me.

My eyes burned, and vision distorted while he crouched beside me and reached out to touch me. I flinched and scooted away from him. Scott kept apologising repeatedly, but through the ringing of my ears and the wild beating of my heart in my head, I didn't care to hear it. When I sat stock-still and wouldn't even look at him, he got up and stormed out of the house. I couldn't tell you how long I sat in that very spot, hands and legs shaking, in complete and utter devastation that the man I loved had just hit me.

The quiet emptiness of the house felt deafening until I choked on an agonising sob that was suffocating me. Little did I know, from that point on, it would get worse before it ever got better, and my life, as well as myself, would never be the same again.

At that very moment, while I sat all alone, there was only one person I wanted to call. Devin.

"Tinks," I open my eyes and look up to see Devin watching me fixedly. His dark brows drawn together tight, his expression is weighty. The concern glittering in his eyes does nothing to quiet my sudden bout of anxiety. I feel practically translucent under his gaze. As though he can see right through me. I dread that he will unveil the broken parts of me that I'm barely keeping together if he looks any deeper.

Mira now is not the time to unravel. Get it together.

I tear my gaze away from his and take a step back. "I have a conference call in thirty minutes." I blurt out.

Devin’s frown deepens, "Conference call?" He intones bemusedly. I push my shoulders back and nod curtly in response while reaching over to reach for the driver's side door.

"Yes, I've already rescheduled it twice, so I can't be late. We should go." I sigh and look up at him incredulously when he doesn't move aside so I can open the door. My breath almost hitches in my throat. I couldn't ignore the sudden gloom that overshadows his usual warm gaze before he nods almost in defeat and steps away from the door. I gesture with my hand for him to climb in once I’ve opened the door. "Can we try and climb into the car in a more civilised manner this time? Preferably without crushing toes and almost cracking skulls open?" Devin looks back at me over his shoulder, and his lip quirks ever so slightly.

"Oh, now you want to be civil?"

"Get in the car, you fiend," I mutter through clenched teeth, and Devin chuckles while he starts to climb into the car toward the passenger seat, mindful of where he places his feet this time around.

My eyes may have—on their own accord—admired his very shapely and taut bum. Like a deviant, I am unable to look away. I wonder if it feels as firm as it seems. My fingers itch to reach out and grab it. I can already feel my cheeks burn, so I swiftly shake off that thought when he groans and tugs my arm.

"This is where you move with me, Tinks." He grumbles, and I roll my eyes and shift closer while he attempts to throw his leg over, his arse hits the horn a couple times, and he curses.

I bite back the grin while I watch him. "Shhh, you're going to wake the entire neighbourhood. The last thing we need is a bloody audience to witness this ludicrous scenario." I scold him, glancing around the neighbourhood. Devin's head whirls around, and he glares at me.

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