“Do I make myselfperfectlyclear?” I repeat.
Her head bows. “Yes, Sir,” she whispers.
“Do you understand what you did?”
She sniffles. “Yes, Sir.”
“Then tell me what you did,girl.”
“I used the wrong word.”
“What happens if you do not speak more carefully to Owen in the future?”
“You’ll immediately end things and leave with Owen.”
“Eyes on me. Do you understand why I’m so upset?”
She lifts her head. “Yes, Sir.”
No, she doesn’t. Not really. Shecan’t, because I haven’t told her about Elsa and what I survived.
Frankly, that’s none of her business.
I step closer, so she has to look up to meet my gaze. “This isnota game to me, Suse. This isseriousfucking business. Owen’s been through enough hell in his life. When he is with us,nothingwe do can make him associate us with his mother and what that bitch did to him. Understand? I might spank him, or torture him, or make him hate me for what we put him through physically, butnothingI do willeverhurt his feelings or make him feel inferior.Ever. I will never engage in the bad kind of mindfucks with him, or belittle him.EverythingI’m doing is designed with the ultimate goal of building him up, including his self-esteem.
“Iletyou play with him. Make no mistake—Owen isminefirst, the way you’re mine. Just like I will never let him do something I thought would harm you, I will not let you do anything to harm him. So let me hear you say it one morefuckingtime so I know you are perfectlyfuckingclear regarding my opinion of this.”
She’s choking back tears by the time I end my monologue.
Seems that I have finally foundthething that can break Susa, her weak point.
Owen’s not used to succeeding. Or, at the very least, he’s used to not being recognized when he succeeds.
Susa, on the other hand, is completely unfamiliar with failure. I am probably the first person in her life to talk to her like this or dress her down in this way, especially for actions that impact someone else who’s more vulnerable than her.
The bastard extraordinaire notes it for future reference and exploitation.
I can barely hear her when she speaks. “I must be careful in how I speak to Owen. Nothing I say or do can make Owen feel bad, or feel like his mother makes him feel. Nothing I do canharmhim. If I do it again…” She chokes up and I don’t interrupt her while she’s trying to compose herself. “If I do it again, you’ll end things with me and leave and take Owen.”
I let those words—herwords—hang in the air for a moment so I know she’sreallyprocessing what I said and not thinking I’m simply being an asshole.
Don’t get me wrong. As much fun as we’ve had, and as much as I do consider her a friend already—and more—I meaneveryword.
Giveme a fucking reasonnotto share him.
Except…I do care about Susa, and Idon’twant to lose her. Not only because of what she can do for Owen, or even because of how Owen feels about her.
But because I’m feeling things for her, too, and that fucking terrifies me.
I finally take a deep breath and let it out before I open my arms to her, and she practically climbs me in her desperation.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” she tearfully says. “I’m so sorry.”
I close my eyes and inhale, hold it, let it out.
Me, I want to say.You triggeredme.
If I’m lucky, neither Susa nor Owen will ever need to know anything detailed about Elsa, or the kind of man Sarge used to be, other than Elsa was a bad life choice that didn’t work out.
