novelxo Chapter 37
I’m fucking furious, and I have no idea why. But I think it has something to do with River saying how much “fun” he had fucking Amanza. That doe-eyed bitch? In what century? It’d be as good as fucking a blow-up doll.
“A fucking blow-up doll, I tell you!” I say as I throw a knife and hit my target dead on. “Shopping is meant to make me feel better, so why the fuck am I angrier?” I throw the next knife and it hits slightly off center. I scream, self-imploding.
It’s been a while since I made my way to the back of my mansion for target practice, but there’s a lethal edge I need to try my hardest to smooth over. Otherwise, I’ll probably go after the doe-eyed bitch. And some part of me, that’s never made itself known before, thinks that would be unreasonable.
“Fuck,” I grumble and then pick up my tea as I look over the well-manicured backyard. Vance stands off to the side at a distance, and I lick my lips. Why do I have so much pent-up rage inside me when I was fucked to within an inch of my life yesterday?
I grab my phone out of habit. This time, River is the most recent call. I frown at that. Alek has always been top of the list.
I hit call on Alek’s number.
It rings, and I wait for voicemail, not even hopeful anymore that he’ll answer.
I sigh when I hear the recording, then start to speak. “Do you remember when we were kids and we started throwing knives?” I ask, reliving the memory of the old bitch teaching us to hit dead center. I idly flip a knife in my hand.
Our lives have never been easy, but at least we had each other. Or so I thought. I throw the knife, and it fills me with satisfaction. “If memory serves correctly, I was a better shot initially.” I know how much that statement will piss Alek off. Even though I’m calling him, distance and time have taken away my need to hear his voice. At least I know he’s alive.
I think about River, and wonder if he’s being honest when he says he’s looking for Alek for my sake. “Anyway, I told River to stop following you. I don’t know why you’re mad at me about it since you were originally the one who dumped him on me. FYI, I still think I’m going crazy. I think I might like him, but not in a bright and shiny way. In the way where I don’t want anyone else’s dick inside me. I mean, I fucking hate him right now… but I’ve never experienced this. Is this what you’re feeling for your dancer?” Fuck, I don’t know what I’m saying anymore.
“Please come back. The old bitch is getting ahead of herself too, thinking she can take it all back. I need you.”
I hang up and stare at the phone for longer than necessary. Did I really just ramble to my brother that I like someone? The very same someone I imagine throwing knives at because he think’s fucking someone else was “fun”?
God, I want to claw at my own chest. Is this what jealousy feels like?
“Delivery, miss.” Clay walks out holding a bag, and I know what it is right away, because I picked it all out. Even if he paid for it. It’s mine. This fucker actually thinks sending me my own jewelry is going to make up for that bullshit on the phone.
I toss a knife into the air, considering if it’ll make me feel better or worse if I kill River today. I’ll be sad to say goodbye to his cock, but at least if he’s six feet under, I won’t have to deal with this uncomfortable, uncontrollable rage.
“Miss,” Clay says, shaking me from my thoughts. I look up at him. “Now that your agreement is over with Mr. Bently, will you require our extra services again?”
“No,” I say automatically. I won’t. Not only is my need for River still very raw, but I don’t want another man’s hands on me right now.
It comes out so quickly that we’re all slightly taken aback. I had been reliant on these two for so many years to bring my stress levels down. And now I only want River, because what? He says so?
“Did we do anything wrong?” he asks, and I’m surprised by the vulnerability in his tone.
“No,” I answer.
“Okay, miss,” he says and then enters the house again, leaving Vance behind to stand stoically.
Everything went to shit as soon as River Bently came to town. I cut the knife through the air as I hit call on River’s number.
He answers on the first ring. “Sweetheart. Two calls in one day; we’re making leaps and bounds.”
“Fuckface,” I sing back at him.
“Oh, she’s spicy,” someone says on his end. I think it’s Michael.
“You’re on speaker in the car.”
“That sounds like your stupidity, not mine.”
“Pull over,” he orders to someone.
“Sir, we’re on a highway,” Michael says. It’s unusual that Michael’s driving.
“Fucking hell,” River grumbles.
“Do you think sending me more jewelry is actually going to put me in a good mood or let you touch me again?”
“I’m gonna pull over,” Michael says.
“Yeah, I think that would be a great idea,” River snarks before I hear honking and then his cool, silky voice is directed back at me.
“Sweetheart, is that any way to talk?” he growls, and I want to throw my phone. “No, I didn’t send it to you for a fuck, but if you’re offering, I won’t say no. I also want to say how unreasonable you’re being about the Amanza thing, considering you walk around with your two guards who you used to fuck two months ago.”
Rage ignites in my veins. He wants me to be reasonable? Oh, that shit ain’t going to fly.
“You like diamonds, I like you. It’s a simple fix,” he says, and I can hear the noise from the background, cars driving by.
“I don’t like you,” I tell him.
“Yeah, I kind of think you do. Since I have the scratch marks to prove it.” He pauses. “Oh, and in case you were wondering, my lip is all healed, ready to taste your sweet pussy again. When would you like to arrange that?”
“You’re awfully cocky,” I say. “Do you know what I’m doing right now, River? I’m flipping knives for target practice and imagining your fucking face on the bullseye.”
“Well, I couldn’t imagine you’d be aiming at my cock since you like it so much. My cockiness involves my cock being buried deep inside you, Anya. Preferably sooner rather than later.”
“And our agreement?” I repeat.
“How long are you going to hide behind that? You and I both know this has nothing to do with me blackmailing you.”
“I fucking hate you. Don’t call me again.”
“You called me, Red,” he says.
“Fuck off, Lake.”
He’s chuckling as I hang up on him and throw the knife, hitting dead center.
Fuck, I hate it when he’s right. I hate that I’m calling him just to pick a fight so I can hear his voice.
I’m losing my fucking mind.