Page 43 of Worship

The side of Milton’s lip curls upward ever so slightly.He likes it.With that, a different kind of pleasure tingles the base of my spine. Would that mean...No. It couldn’t be. Theres no way he’s attracted to me. “I hate it.”

His smile widens. “Okay, well, skip to the next dress, and I will see you out there.”

After she walks away, Milton chortles. “Look at you, bonding with your stepsister.”

“You need to go. We can’t do this now.”

“Answer my question. Why did you ask for my help?” he demands, and when I say nothing, he steps forward. My back smacks into the mirror behind me as he demands, “Tellme.”

“Because…” My shoulders slump, hating that he’s making me say it. “You’re the only one I’ve ever felt safe with.”

His eyebrow lifts. “And yet, you fucked me over.”

“I will sign your stupid contract, okay? Do whatever the hell you want. I can’t go back there…I—” A lump lodges in the back of my throat. “For God’s sake. Do you want me to beg you?”

“I hope you understand what you’re asking.” His fingers catch the material of the dress, and he tugs me forward. I inhale sharply as I slam into him. Capturing my chin, he forces me to look at him. “Because once you sign...” His thumb rubs against my bottom lip, and for one paralyzing moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. And the thought of that is enough to stop my heart. “You’re fucking mine.”

The word confuses me. Shocks me. Mine.His.

The paths laid out in front of me have their own twists and bends. Go back to the club to be Blake’s bitch and have him put a baby back in me. I could end it—open my veins and bleed. But then, they win, and I lose.

Then there’s Milton. Whoever he is now, whatever he is a part of, is a mystery I’d be walking blind into. I could be stepping into something I might not ever get out of, where he might decide he’s not finished punishing me.

With my heart in my throat, I nod, because what choice do I have? He lets go.“Fine.”

“Fine,” I echo, voice quivering as he turns and leaves. Slamming my head back against the glass, I breathe out heavily. What the fuck have I done?

Chapter Twenty

After Gabriella signs me back in and I return to my room, I don’t know what to do with myself. Milton didn’t tell me when hishelpwould begin. As I pace my room, my body on edge, the nurses call us to the cafeteria for dinner. I’m not hungry, but I line up with the rest of the zombie girls.When the line dwindles, I’m about to grab an apple from the stand when a scream pierces my ears.

“Don’t touch me!” Looking over my shoulder, a girl around my age kicks a male temp trying to calm her in the balls. “I’m a saint! I wouldneverput it in my mouth!”

Some girls laugh, those I would genuinely call crazy, as nurses and orderlies surround the dark-haired girl, quickly escorting her out. Something she only laughs at.

Abandoning the apple, I return to my room. Back to pacing back and forth. Back. Forth. Forth. Back.

It could be another week before I see Milton again. He could keep me in here, tormenting me with fear as further punishment. At this point, after what he did during the past few weeks, I wouldn’t put it past him. And I marvel at how Istillbegged for his help after he reduced me to nothing but a drooling lemming. How desperate can I be?

Vera suddenly enters my room, face blank of emotion. “You. Let’s go.”

“Go?” I echo, but she’s already turning and walking out. Running to catch her, we go down the corridor and end up at the doors which lead to Milton’s office. The side of the building that’s been closed for fifteen years.

It takes everything inside of me not to look smug as I cross my arms. “Where am Igoing?” I ask irately when she stops by the doors and opens one of them.

Sighing tiredly, she avoids eye contact. “Just go.”

Glaring at her with disgust, I shove past her and continue alone. Down the long, eerie corridor to the other side of the building where I knew all along was there. Once reaching the end, I hesitate before pushing open the door.

Déjà-fucking-vu.

Everything appears the same, the last rays of daylight streaming through the large windows, creating a haze of welcome and warmth—what a lie.

Someone approaches me from behind. “Hello, Miss Adams,” Lisa says, a weird friendly smile in place, considering the last time we were in each other’s company, I’d been somewhat threatening. “If you would follow me. We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Where’s Milton?” I wonder.

“Attending to a last-minute matter.” Taking me into the office, she retrieves two black boxes from a cabinet; one bigger than the other and tied together with a blood-red ribbon. Placing them down on the desk, she hands me an envelope before leaving and shutting the door.

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