Page 30 of Titan

“Now, do you see why I’m screwed?”

Remi sipped her beer.

“I mean, you could refuse to see him if it’s that much of a problem.”

“I can’t do that.”

She gave me a look.

“And why not?”

“He doesn’t have anyone else.”

I sounded ridiculous, but the knowledge I was the person he’d turned to made me feel special. And it fucked with me too. I’d never met a man who didn’t view me as a sexual being. Even my work colleagues viewed me through a sexual lens because of the nature of our work.

“You know that sounds a little crazy, right?”

“He’s a paying client.”

“So? It doesn’t mean you’re responsible for him.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Her phone went off. She checked it, made a face, and looked down at her beer.

“Mmm, okay, Theia, whatever you say.” She stood up and gave me a knowing look. “Listen, I’m going to head to bed. I know he’s a paying client, but you don’t have to help him with whatever he’s going through, okay?”

I nodded, unsure of how to respond. She eyed me for a moment longer before walking away towards my hallway.

“And don’t feel too bad about finding him attractive,” she threw over her shoulder. “You’re allowed to like him even if he can’t feel that way about you too.”

How the fuck did she know I’m feeling bad about it?

The front door slammed a minute later. I sat there staring at the wall in front of me before sighing and hauling myself up off the sofa. Wandering into the kitchen, I set my can down and rifled through the letters I’d dropped on the counter. One of them stuck out. The handwriting was familiar and made the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

Ripping it open, I turned the envelope upside down and shook it, making a small note fall out on the counter. I set the envelope down and stared at the words.

I bet you’re loving all those paying clients, aren’t you? You tried to deny you liked what we did to you, but don’t worry, we know better now. Once a whore, always a whore. Enjoy it while you can.

Sickness coiled in my stomach. I put a hand to my mouth before dashing towards the sink and promptly throwing up. It was violent and unforgiving. I set my forehead on the counter when I’d expelled everything, breathing heavily, and rubbing my stomach.

They know where I work. They know where I fucking live!

I’d forgotten about the charm they’d sent to the club earlier after my session with Gil. I knew who it was. The men who’d held me against my will for two years. Who’d subjected me to things I didn’t want to think about. I didn’t want to remember.

“No, no, no, no, no.”

I could hardly breathe as I sunk onto the floor and curled up into the foetal position.

“They can’t hurt me. They can’t. It’s in the past, it’s all in the past,” I told myself over and over, even though I didn’t believe it.

How the hell had they found me? It had been four years, and I’d been so careful. This was my worst nightmare coming to fruition. And yet they were just words. They hadn’t approached me or tried to take me again. Maybe they were taunting me. They couldn’t possibly think they’d get to me here, could they? The club was one of the most secure places in London. The same for this building we all lived in.

I hated not knowing. It made me feel so out of control. I’d worked so hard to get my life on track. To heal from what they’d done to me. And now, here I was curled up in a ball, all because I’d received a few fucking messages.

I don’t know how long I lay there as I attempted to calm down and breathe again. When my heart finally stopped racing so hard in my chest, I uncurled myself and got up off the floor. Grabbing a hold of my beer, I downed the rest, threw the can in the recycling, and walked into my bathroom. Despite the late hour, I took a long, hot shower, washing away everything until I felt relatively human again.

When I got out, I dried myself and put my pyjamas on. I pulled a bag out of the top of my wardrobe and packed it with essentials. It would be my ‘just in case I had to run’ bag.

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