I opened my mouth a few times, ready to say something, but what was there to say?
Thank you for the most incredible night of my life — it's never going to happen again? Please take off the killer noose around my neck, it's really just not my style.
I sat up.
He looked at me for a moment, his expression completely blank except for a flash of annoyance in his eyes. He said nothing, just set down his coffee cup and went back into the walk-in closet, coming out a moment later with a suit jacket on and his tie neatly tied.
The room felt different. He felt different.
When we were at the shop, he was professional and polite. Last night he was domineering and passionate, even fiery.
This was different. This was a different side of the same man.
He wasn't pretending to be a normal person to get my guard down, and the fire that was in him before had been completely extinguished. Now he was cold, and for some reason, that made me feel worse than when he fucked me like he owned me.
He had gotten what he wanted from me. He had bedded me, used me, and now I was just a means to an end, a way to get to my mother.
Something twisted in my gut, and a white-hot fury surged through my veins as I watched him get ready for the day without another single glance my way.
He picked up his coffee again, drained it, and set the white ceramic cup back down on the bedside table then tucked his phone into his breast pocket.
"Get dressed. My men will take you home." He turned to the mirror to straighten his already perfectly straight tie.
His men would take me home...that was it? After last night, that was all he could say to me?
It was one thing to play me, to use me against my mother. It was another to fuck me into oblivion, turn my body against me and make me feel things I thought only existed in fairy tales for adults. But to do all that and then just discard me, toss me aside like he did the coffee cup now that it was empty... That was going too far.
Nausea rolled through my stomach, my cheeks and my eyes burned, and my skin felt like it was too tight. What little control I had snapped.
On the bedside table, next to his discarded coffee cup, sat a small crystal clock. Without thinking, I picked it up and hurled it at his head.
He ducked out of the way just in time, and the clock slammed into the full-length mirror, shattering it.
I clasped my hands over my mouth, my eyes wide as I stared at what I had just done.
Large fragments of glass covered the floor, but several pieces still hung in the frame, jagged and threatening.
Darius stared at me, fury burning in his eyes, his hands in tight fists. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then all the tension left his body.
When he opened his eyes again, he was calm and in complete control.
The shift was so instantaneous that I moved back on the bed, trying to put more space between us. I had no idea what he was capable of, what he was thinking.
"Something you would like to say,maya soloveyka?" he said, calmly picking up the crystal clock and putting it back in its place on the bedside table.
I shook my head and he just waited, watching me expectantly.
"I have nothing to say, sir." My voice was hoarse, my throat dry, and the words scratched their way past the fear.
He nodded and lashed out, grabbing me with one hand around my waist and the other in my hair. A man of that size shouldn't be able to move so fast, but he did. He pulled me to stand in front of the mirror just outside the area with all the shards of glass.
"Look in the mirror," he growled. "Tell me what you see."
I saw my reflection, broken and fragmented. My pussy lips still looked swollen and tender. There were rough red marks over my breasts and around my throat. I looked used.
Then, of course, there was the necklace.
The massive, stunning white teardrop that sat perfectly just below my collarbones, surrounded by clusters of smaller diamonds, and then the platinum infinity band. Beautiful. Deadly.
