Page 51 of Survival

I walked out tomeet him, wincing with every step, unable to hide my pain. He wasdressed pretty casual today, wearing a pair of jeans and a darkblue button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows so I couldsee his tattoos. He ended his call quickly and looked me up anddown, smiling.

“Good morning, princess,” he beamed at me. “Sleepwell?”

I scoffed at beingcalled a princess. I hated being called that when I was a kid, andI hated it even more so as an adult. At that very moment, Icompared myself to Princess Peach being captured by Bowser for theumpteenth time and laughed in my head at the idea of waiting forMario to come rescue me. Except there was no Mario and this wasn’ta game. The only person who wouldberescuing me would be me. Benching my nerdside, I took a seat at the table, slowly setting myself on thecushioning of the chair.

“Not exactly,” I answered his question, trying to find acomfortable position.

“Something wrong?” he asked, turning his head to study me. Heactually looked like he might be concerned. I didn’t want to admitto him what he had done to me, but there was no sense inlying.

“I think you bruised my cervix,” Iwinced.

“And whose fault is that?” he asked me with a warningglare.

Yours,you ass fuck.

“I know … mine,” I answered.

“That’s right. I imagine that will take a while to heal andwill serve as a good reminder for your week ofreflection.”

“Yes, I imagine it will,” I agreedbegrudgingly.

As I turned tomake myself a cup of coffee, Darren reached over his shoulder andpulled a long strand of red hair from his jacket, irritation clearon his face and I smirked a little at that.

“Goddamn, Jaden, you’ve been here a mere couple of days andyour hair is already fucking everywhere,” he said, agitated as hedropped the single strandonthe ground.

“Oh, sorry,” I said innocently, clutching my coffee mug. “Didyou not read the fine print when you acquired me? I shed like adog.”

That earned mequite the look from Darren and I felt my stomachdrop.

“That’s strike one,” Darren said, holding up his index finger.“You don’t want me to get to strike three,” hewarned.

Don’troll your eyes. Don’t roll your eyes.

“Since we’re trying a new method for the next week, you’ll begiven a limit of three strikes a day. If I makeitto strikethree, you’ll have exceeded my tolerance and you will notlike what happens next. Are we clear on this?”

“Yes, Darren.” I nodded.

“Good.”

We were silent fora while as I turned to take in the view of the ocean, attempting toignore the ache between my legs as Darren began to read hisnewspaper. I sipped on my coffee for a while and continued myappreciation of the view.

“Jaden, I suggest you eat something.” Darren finally spoke,not bothering to lift his eyes from thepaper.

I really wasn’thungry; the ache between my legs successfully suppressed myappetite, but arguing with him was futile. I looked at the array offoods laid out on the silver platters. French toast, pancakes,bacon, scrambled eggs, sliced fruit, muffins, and bagels had beenset out on the table, but none of it appealed tome.

Deciding on theeasiest thing for me to digest, I placed a small helping ofscrambled eggs on my plate and one slice of bacon. After finishingmy plate and my coffee, I looked over at Darren, hoping he wassatisfied with my attempt. He didn’t say anything, but he stilldidn’t look happy. I exhaled a slight sigh of annoyance and wentfor a small helping of sliced fruit, picking at it and sipping mycoffee until it was gone. He seemed satisfied withthat.

“So,” he said, putting down his paper and turning to me. “Ihave a couple of things to take care of today, but I’ll be workingfrom my home office so you can roam the house if you’dlike.”

Hownice of him to extend my cage.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll just relax today … if that’s okaywith you,” I added.

“I suppose, so long as it’s productive foryou.”

“Meaning?”

“You know what I mean,” he said, lowering hisgaze.