Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
We aren’t engaged.
He doesn’t love me.
This is all pretend.
We’re playing house, and I’m praying I don’t burn it down before this is all said and done.
I want to do what he asks, but it’s like I’m giving up all my power to him, and it’s getting scarily easy to do. I’m far too happy to just forget. I love what he does to me too much. I know this will be over sooner rather than later, so I can’t get too used to his hands on me.
His mouth on me.
His cock inside me.
It’s all for show.
We’re nothing but an illusion that’s become a reality for the sole purpose of covering his ass so he doesn’t get fired. I never thought this could happen, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.
I didn’t like him.
Be strong, Brooklyn. You’re a means to an end.
The warmth that floods my cheek slips down south, but I’m met with a loss as I realize I’m alone. His side of the bed is cold.
I sit up in bed. How long has he been gone?
My smile slips into a pout, and I rub the sleep from my eyes as I gather the sheets around me to keep the chill away. Then I realize it’s darker than before in the morning… darker because something’s blocking the windows.
It takes me a minute longer than it should because of the disbelief. I sit up straighter, rechecking my surroundings as my heart hammers and every little event comes back to me.
There’s a rack in his room. It’s my rack of designer dresses. The dresses I thought I would never see again. My eyes widen. Oh. My. God. I’m quick to jump out of bed, and in all my naked glory, I’m practically doing the walk of shame just to touch my Chanel tweed dress suit set.
With shock still running through me, I look around the room and realize several boxes are marked “bedroom” with a Sharpie. Still naked and thinking I may be dreaming, I open two more to find clothes and shoes that were once stacked neatly in the spare bedroom I’d turned into a closet. The sun hits something just right to my left, and I spot a silver camisole that I also recognize as mine. It’s laid out neatly on the end of the bed, although the covers under it are rumpled from where I tugged the covers up this morning. A note lies beside it.
For you, my Wife.
I’m not sure if it’s the euphoria of having a piece of what I left behind back or simply the surprise—I do love surprises—but I can’t stop smiling as I slip on the silk nightie in a flash and quickly pad off to find him. My bare feet smack on the floor as I make my way and then instantly stop.
I don’t understand the emotion I’m met with. Some things are still in boxes, but others are neatly placed where they should go in a home. Where they used to be in mine.
“Ro,” I call out his name as I make my way through his place. His office door is shut, and I knock twice before opening it. However, I find it empty, and it seems to be the only room that doesn’t contain a box or stray items of mine. “Ro?” I call out in the quiet house only to find it vacant.
So I take my time, finding a home in drawers and closets for the more important items I’m glad I wasn’t forced to let go of.
Ro got all of my things for me. Not only did he get them for me but he’s had help because most of my clothes are organized in the second closet that is supposed to be hers. The back sitting room is jammed with furniture and boxes. It can’t all stay here, but I didn’t realize how much I’d miss many of the pieces. A soft blue chenille throw Aspen got me when I was sick lays across the leather wingback chair at the entrance. It doesn’t match at all, but it’s mine.
And it’s here.
In his home.
The one that he’s making room for me in.
Swallowing down the emotion, I head back to the bedroom to look for my phone.
The moment I find it, I text him.
Brooklyn: How did you do this?
Ronan: You needed your dresses. I did what I had to.
His response proves to subdue the joy and relief that’s stayed with me since I saw the clothing rack.
Brooklyn: What do you mean?
Before he can respond, I follow up with:
Brooklyn: You didn’t break in and steal it, right?
My father isn’t an easy man to negotiate with. In fact, I’ve given up even attempting to do so. As I sit on the end of the bed, I slowly realize that’s exactly what Ronan did. My father wouldn’t willingly allow anyone anything easily. Certainly not the man who fucked his daughter on 4k. My stomach turns in knots for a moment, thinking my father will have him arrested. Or that we’ll be served a lawsuit for him stealing or whoever he ordered to go grab my stuff.