“You.” He reaches out and runs his knuckles down my cheek.
Vomit fills my mouth, but I swallow it down.
He leans in, whispering in my ear, “Remove that dress and your underwear, then bend over the desk, and Liv will be back here first thing in the morning.”
I fist my hands as tears sting my eyes. I don’t have a choice. I’m fucked. Literally. We both know it. If my mom dies because she didn’t have a nurse here, it will be my fault. And I refuse to have her death on my hands. He may win this round, but I will win the war.
I pull away from him, and his hands fall to his side.
Dropping my heels to the floor, I grip the hem of my dress and pull it up and over my head.
“Beautiful.” He reaches out and touches my stomach.
I jump back. “I can’t …”
“Shh.” He reaches out and yanks me to him. He places his free hand over my mouth, silencing me. “I told you that you were going to willingly spread those legs for me, Emilee. And I always get what I want.”
My eyes are heavy and my mind foggy from all the alcohol I’ve consumed. But I’m still very aware of what is about to happen and how right he is.
CHAPTER TWO
EMILEE
ISTAND ATthe bar waiting for the bartender to look my way for me to order another drink. I know I’m not an eye-catching woman, buthello, over here, douche!
I have my tits out. What else do I need to do to get a fucking drink? Remove my shirt and throw it in his face? Stand on the bar and shake my ass?
The guy at the end of the bar has seemed to notice me. He keeps staring at me, and I’ve made it a point to avoid eye contact.
I’ve only been here for thirty minutes, and already, I’m tired of it. This week has been a week from hell, and I needed a moment to myself to clear my mind. At least that’s what I told myself. But it was just a lie. That house feels so much like a prison, and I needed out. I needed to get drunk and just get fresh air.
I’m getting neither of those.
My life has been decided for me. Well, at least until I can get away from George. And I’m not sure I can live it.
Not like this.
Not under his control.
In the past week, George has come to me one other time since the night I came home drunk and found out he fired my mother’s nurses. And that is two times too many. The only thing about it, is that he can’t last more than two minutes. And other than the first time, the other one I had plenty of notice, so I made sure to down a few bottles of whatever I could find. Afterward, I sit in my shower crying, hoping that he will drop dead and die like my father did. So far, luck is not on my side.
I pound my fist on the bar. “Hey, asshole. I need a drink …”
He nods at me, and I almost smile. “What can I get you?” he asks.
“A shot of vodka.” I’m not playing tonight. “Actually, make that three.” Who knows how long it’ll be until he returns?
He sets out to make my drinks, and I pull out my debit card.
Setting it in front of me, I slide my card across the bar. I down the first one as he runs my card. I’m setting the glass down when he comes back. “Your card was declined.”
“What?” I frown. “Can you run it again? There must be some mistake.”
He shakes his head. “I ran it three times, ma’am. Insufficient funds,” he states as another guy hollers at him. “I’ll be back.” He walks away to help the other customer, and I slump against the bar.
Has George shut off my card?No. He can’t have that kind of access. Can he? I dig my cell out and send him a text.
Me: Did you turn off my card?
