C3, PT. 4 (Patreon)
Content
I knew right from the start that you didn’t fit into your father’s world. You didn’t measure up to your sisters and were unhappy, neglected, lonely.
Her throat constricted, making it hard to breathe. She tipped her face up to the blinding lights as she gasped for breath.
I don’t know if this is worth it.
Vision blinded by tears, she opened her mouth to scream to alleviate the pain, but nothing came out. Her anguish was so deep, she couldn’t make a sound.
It would be impossible for you to get pregnant. I got a vasectomy.
Desperate for an escape from the unrelenting cacophony, her wild gaze scanned the bedroom, hoping to see a decanter of alcohol before her gaze landed on the bed where their luggage had been placed.
I planned to be your worst nightmare.
She didn’t remember stepping out of the tub, but she found herself beside the bed and watched her dripping hand disappear inside Roth’s open bag. With his voice railing at her in her mind, she pushed aside clothes and what felt like a toiletry bag.
I expect to get my money’s worth, Jasmine. Don’t let me down.
The moment her hand closed around cold metal, the voices vanished. She retracted her hand, revealing the pistol sheathed in a holster. With a sharp pull, she extracted the gun and watched firelight dance over the weapon. She’d always been uneasy around guns, but right now, the sight of it lightened her spirits. It was the escape she didn’t know she’d been looking for. She didn’t allow herself to second guess. The sudden peace that enveloped her was answer enough.
She sucked in a breath and raised the gun to her temple, but a photograph mounted on the wall caught her attention. A family with nearly two dozen members posed in front of the château, all color-coordinated in red. They had their arms around each other and were beaming at the camera. They didn’t deserve to have their beloved home sullied. There was no way around that, but the least she could do was make the cleanup easier…
She backtracked to the bathroom and eyed the glass shower before her gaze went back to the tub, which was still steaming. She shouldn’t, but she couldn’t resist. She climbed back in, shuddering as the hot water enveloped her chilled, clammy body. She’d just give herself several last seconds to enjoy the warmth before…
She fell back, heedless of the water that sloshed over the side, the hand holding the gun draped over the side so it wouldn’t get wet. Although her mind was tranquil, she was aware of her racing heart and too rapid breathing. She didn’t allow herself to dwell on what was to come. Instead, she focused on the pleasant crackle of the fire in the bedroom that reminded her of the nights spent in her library at Tuxedo Park. She could almost smell the scent of smoke, burning wood, and aged books. She imagined walking along the lake on a crisp Fall day. If death was an eternal loop, that was where she’d like to be.
“Jasmine.”
Her serenity shattered. She opened her eyes to see Roth poised in the doorway.
Slowly, he extended his hand. “Give me the gun, baby.”
His eyes flickered as she dragged her heavy arm into the tub. Water splashed as her elbow hit the water, but she kept the gun dry and cocked to the ceiling.
“Could you close the door? I’ll be done in a minute,” she said, her tone even and polite.
“Talk to me, Jasmine.”
“I’m done talking,” she said wearily, head tipping toward the gun, so the barrel rested against her temple. “I’m so tired.”
“That’s not the answer. I can fix this. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you.”
He always knew what to say, but this time, the fervent promise didn’t elicit a spark of hope. She no longer believed him. “I need you to leave.”
Obsidian eyes flashed in his otherwise inanimate face. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Why the hell had she delayed? What should have been a straightforward personal decision had morphed into something far more complicated. The sense of control that had granted her such peace when she made her decision began to wane. “Get out, Roth!”
“I know I’ve let you down,” he said in a driven tone. “That I broke promises. I swear, this time I’ll—”
“I don’t want to hear that shit!” she shrieked. “I don’t want any more apologies or false promises. I’m so sick of believing things will get better. Of getting hurt over and over again. I was cursed right from the start. I’m not even supposed to be here. I don’t belong.”
“Yes, you do. You belong with me.”
She let out a sharp, startled laugh that bounced off the walls and high ceiling. “Like I said, I was cursed from the start. Fate was cruel to pair me with a man who only sought to use me and sees the same flaws in me my father did. You’re off the hook, Roth. You don’t have to save Hennessy & Co. You can let it fall. Lyle was hoping the company would crash and burn. Instead, I cut a deal with you to save it, creating more problems and misery for all of us. My sisters are better off without it. Later, they’ll realize it was for the best…”
Her shoulders sagged under an invisible, crushing weight. She’d been strong for so long, but her battle was finally at an end. Relief beckoned. An end to her suffering. To this excruciating agony. She just needed him to leave. She didn’t want to do it with him in the room. If he’d just close the door, she would finish this once and for all.
“You need to leave,” she said hoarsely.
“I need you.”
Six hours ago, that line snapped her out of a panic attack and gave her the strength to take on high society with a smile on her face. Now, it did nothing for her because she knew he didn’t mean it. They were empty words he knew she wanted to hear. He fed her enough crumbs to stop her from starving, and gave her sips of hope so she would perform on command, but she was nothing to him.
**This is a raw draft of Bitter Sins. Please do not share or distribute.
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