Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“What?”
“You said you needed to, so do it. Then you can shower, and I can get on with my business.”
I gesture to the door for him to go.
He cocks his head like he doesn’t understand.
“You’re not watching me.”
“You lost all your rights to privacy when you decided to blackmail me.” He checks his watch. “You have one minute. I’m a busy man.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need to go.”
“Suit yourself. Get in the shower.”
“I’m not showering while you watch either.”
“You need to get the blood off you.”
“I wouldn’t be bleeding if it wasn’t for you.”
“You wouldn’t be here at all if you hadn’t decided to blackmail me. In. Now.”
I think it may be stupid, but I dig my heels in and shake my head.
“No? Okay, how about this.” He takes a step toward me. “Let’s learn lesson number one.” He takes another step and I have to take one back. “We’ll change roles, shall we?”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll be the blackmailer and you be the blackmailee. Is that a word?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your sister left you a voice message. She sounds sweet.”
“What?”
“A knock-knock joke she’s waiting on?”
I feel my face pale.
He raises his eyebrows. “You should really text Wren back. And honestly, I’m curious myself. I mean, who doesn’t love a good knock-knock joke?”
“Give me my phone.”
“Step into the shower.”
“Give me my phone.” I wipe away a stupid traitor tear.
“Into the shower. You’ll piss. Then you’ll wash yourself and when I’m satisfied, you may tell Wren the rest of that joke. You left her hanging on a cliff, Blue. That’s not very nice, considering her mental state—”
“Go to hell!” I scream and fling myself at him.
He catches me easily, gripping my arms and backing me into the glass wall of the shower. The tips of his shoes brush my bare toes.
“No, sweetheart, you go to hell. What’s happening here and now? That’s all your own doing. Tell me something. How does it feel, Little Convict? Being blackmailed? Having someone else take control of your life?”
“This is different. Wren’s… sick.”
“So, do as you’re told, and you can message her.”
He’s determined. He’s teaching me a lesson. And he’s not going to let me off the hook. So, I do as he says and step into the shower.
“Happy?” I ask.
“Not yet.”
I look at him over my shoulder.
“Face me.”
“Why?”
“You know what you have to do.”
“Zeke, I—”
“Ezekiel. We’re not friends, remember. Face me.”
I do.
“You wanted to use the bathroom. So, squat and do it. While I watch.”
I swallow. He’s going to make me do this. In front of him. He’s going to humiliate me like this.
“Squat, Blue, and piss. Then you can text your sister.”
I stare up at him, my heart racing. “You’re sick,” I say through gritted teeth even as my eyes fill with hot tears. I can’t back down, though. I can’t cower. It’s what he wants.
She shrugs a shoulder.
“Will it get you off?” I ask and it’s a mistake, I know the instant the words leave my mouth because he’s on me before I can blink, before I can get away. He grabs a fistful of my hair and tugs my head backward, his predator’s eyes searching my face, settling too long on my mouth.
“I’m a little more complicated than that.” He tightens his fist in my hair forcing tears to burn the corners of my eyes. “Squat and piss,” he says, forcing me down. Once I’m squatting, he steps away, his gaze locked on mine.
And I do it. I look up at him, having to force myself to hold his gaze, to not look away even as my face burns and I do it, feeling the warm liquid against my thighs and Ezekiel St. James watching me, degrading me with his cool expression even as a tear slides down my cheek.
Only when I’m finished do I look away because I can’t hold his gaze anymore.
“Good girl. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I don’t answer. “Stand up.” He takes my phone out of his pocket and unlocks it. I stand, wipe my tears, closing my eyes when I hear Wren’s voice playing her part, asking ‘who’s there?’ in three repeated, increasingly anxious voice texts.
“Who’s there, Blue?” Ezekiel asks and I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and reach for the phone. He hands it over and it takes me a minute to get myself under control. I do it for her. I have to do it for her. If I’d been there, if I hadn’t dragged my feet because I didn’t want to be home, maybe I would have made it back in time. The difference was minutes. Minutes and she’d be the big sister I remember. But she’s not. And she never will be again.
“Blue,” he says.
I swallow over the lump in my throat and try to block out the ringing in my ears. I hit the record button. “Beets,” I say, hoping she won’t hear the trembling of my voice. I hit send and watch the second arrow show up, telling me it’s been delivered. I see the time. It’s almost four in the afternoon. She’ll be at her physical therapy session. She’ll get it soon though.