I press the phone harder against my ear. “I’m not yours. I don’t belong to you, Benedikt. You don’t get tomanagemy life. You’re notin it.I want my things back. And. I. Want. Them.Now.”
“You made a deal.”
What in the world is up with these men?
“I haven’t signed anything.”
“You will,” he says, like it’s inevitable. Like I’m inevitable. “Because you care about that old woman more than you hate me. And your father?—”
“Don’t talk about him,” I ground out, clutching the phone tighter. “He gave me away like I was nothing. He doesn’t get to be part of this conversation. You’re just as bad as he is. I cut him off for a reason. Now, I still get to suffer for whathedid.”
There’s a pause on the other end.
Good. Let him feel the weight of that.
I’m here because of my dad. Not because of any other reason.
Oh, and the man on the other side of this phone call is a control freak who doesn’t understand the wordno.
I glance up, catching Artem’s annoyed posture. He’s pacing in front of my door now, like he’s counting how many ways this day has gone to shit.
“Fine,” Benedikt snarls on the other line. “You win, princess. Enjoy it while you can because, before the ink dries on our contract, you’ll never get another one.”
It sounds like a looming threat, but I’m too angry to allow it to soak in.
“Where is it?”
“You’ll have it tonight.”
“Fine. But, until then, I’m not going anywhere until I read it. Every page. Every disgusting little clause. And I approve it. Otherwise, we have nothing. And I’m not your anything.”
Another pause. A long one.
And I almost believe he hung up on me when he finally speaks.
“You really like testing limits, don’t you, princess?”
“Get used to it.”
Then I hang up on him, not giving him a chance to say anything else.
But I still feel it.
The way his last words crawl under my skin, low, dark, and possessive. I hate that he affects me. I hate that part of me is curious what he meant by waiting for me. I hate that, for one split second, I wondered what would’ve happened if I had gone to the penthouse with him, waiting for me.
I drag a hand through my hair, shoving the thoughts away.
But Benedikt’s voice? It lingers. That bastard always lingers.
Artem stares at me, phone still in my hand.
“Ballsy,” he mutters.
I toss the phone back to him. “He’ll live…unfortunately.”
Artem’s phone pings with a text, and he immediately looks down at it. “You’re in trouble.”
Goosebump ripple along my flesh in warning. “Who cares?”
