Page 40 of Twisted Proposal

My stomach twisted at the idea of eating or drinking either of those, but I didn’t order them for my enjoyment. Well, except for the enjoyment of adding them to his bill.

It may have been petty, but it was my way of regaining a little of the control I had lost the night before.

While I waited for my very expensive breakfast, I tried out the bathroom again, this time appreciating the water pressure with hot water. Stepping out of the shower, I felt amazing, warm and refreshed, with a renewed appreciation for heated towels.

Wearing my new wardrobe felt like more than just taking control of the situation with Artem. It felt like taking control of my life. The clothes weren’t flashy or overtly sexy or designed to stand out.

They were sleek and sophisticated perfection. They let me stand on my own feet. People would see past the clothes to the woman wearing them. They were perfect.

I didn't want the attention of a flashy wardrobe. I wanted to be seen for myself and taken seriously. By dressing like this, I felt like a woman who took control of her independence, who deserved to be respected and to be listened to.

Yet a voice in the back of my mind whispered that even this was his doing. He had selected these clothes—or at least paid for them.

Every one of these so-called choices and decisions were made within the boundaries he set. My chest tightened at the thought.

When breakfast came, I let in the room service guys and took the bill, adding a four-figure tip before handing it back with a smile.

I enjoyed my meal, picking at it mostly, but basking in the win.

I knew Artem might be pissed about the bill, he might demand I return the clothes, but something told me he wouldn't.

There was something in his eyes last night, something that told me he liked my defiance, so long as I eventually submitted.

My blood ran cold at the realization.

Regardless, I felt strong and powerful, and there was a bounce in my step as I left the hotel. I even went to the front desk and had them add another four-figure tip to the bill for housekeeping, and asked them to call a car for me and bill it to the room.

The attendant at the front desk was very accommodating, and I headed back to my dorm in an Escalade.

The entire way back to campus, I felt like I was glowing, and I just couldn't stop basking in it.

I preferred to think it had nothing to do with the toe-curling orgasm of the night before and everything to do with my little financial revenge this morning.

It wasn't until I opened the door to my dorm room that everything came crashing down around me and I realized I hadn't won a goddamn thing.

I had been played.

Everything was gone.

The bed was stripped, and the room was completely sterile except for a single envelope on the bare mattress.

My heart pounded in my ears as I approached it. My hands shook so badly I could barely pick it up. Inside was a key with a note written in harsh, slanted handwriting.

You will stay herefrom now on.–A

An address was scribbledon the back of the envelope and just like that, I had lost any control I thought I had gained.

My breath caught in my throat as the implications sank in. He had been one step ahead the entire time.

While I was sleeping it off then ordering room service and reveling in my petty rebellion, he hadn’t been with another woman after all. It was worse.

He was dismantling my life.

There were still a few hours before my next class, so I went to check out my new apartment. Even if it was just to have a place to store my stuff until I figured out something else. After all, how could I be an independent woman when I lived in an apartment paid for by a man who not only killed my father, but thought that gave him the right to punish me like a child?

Although, he was paying for my tuition and dorm room. So was I ever really independent?

The less than childish things we had done the night before flashed through my mind and I pushed them out of my head before they affected me anymore.