Page 16 of Brutal

His expression is ugly, twisting handsome features into something that makes him look as unappealing as he is. “Did you enjoy snooping? Think you’d find something to use against me? Because you won’t.”

“I didn’t snoop,” I lie. I close my legs and sit up. “But your doctor friend made it obvious. Do I need to be worried that you’ll overdose, and I’ll be trapped here without food or water?”

“I’d have to be on something to overdose,” Brutal retorts, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “You don’t worry about what you heard. Understand? It wasn’t important.”

He couldn’t express the opposite any more clearly.

“Okay,” I answer calmly. If there’s one thing I learned, it’s how to pretend everything is fine. I lie down again. “Go ahead. Pound away, then.”

Whatever smug mood he’d been in is gone, replaced by an anger that should probably worry me. He grabs me by the throat, squeezing tight. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you now? Nice and fast in your filthy little cunt?”

I gasp, struggling against his grasp, but there’s nothing I can do against his superior strength. No matter how much I slap his arm, I can’t dislodge him.

He keeps squeezing, and my lungs begin to burn from the lack of air. As a last-ditch effort, I kick out as hard as I can. Somehow, I manage to catch him between the legs.

Brutal cries out and releases me. I cough and suck in air, but I know I don’t have the luxury of recovering. I scramble off the bed and run toward the bedroom door.

He’s faster than he looks, and he’s on me before I can reach the handle. He grabs me by the hair, yanking me back. “What are you gonna do, huh?” he hisses. “Run around naked? Ask for help from the other rich fucks who live here?”

I whimper and shake my head. “Better than dealing with you.”

It probably isn’t. I should count my blessings. But I don’t trust Brutal, and I don’t like the idea of getting complacent in a gilded cage.

Because that would be easy, right? I could just be his sugar baby and let myself get treated like dirt in exchange for whatever luxuries he’s willing to dole out. I could decide that this life is at least better than the old one under Giulio Pavone.

I don’t want to just be some fucktoy without any thoughts of her own, though. I can pretend, for a little while—until I do something like bite down on a guy’s cock or ask Drake Brutal if he’s taking drugs.

“No,” he growls out, still hunched over slightly as he slams me hard into the wall. “You don’t know what kind of men live around here, Mimi. You don’t know what you’re saying. I’m the best person you could’ve asked for. Let that sink in for a second.”

I cry out in pain, my vision blacking out for a second.

Guess I know the answer to what he’s like when he’s angry.

“Okay,” I answer, my voice wavering despite my efforts. “Okay. I’m sorry. I won’t mention it again!”

Brutal grips both of my arms tightly, squeezing harder than he had around my neck, and keeps me trapped against the wall. “You don’t even need to be thinking about it,” he snaps. “You and me? We’re not a couple. We’re not in this together. You’re a fucking slave. You’re barely even human. You don’t get to ask me about my life or anything in it. Clear?”

I nod, my heart pounding loud in my ears. “Crystal.”

Hadn’t I learned this lesson already? Acting out means getting beaten down. Maybe the luxury all around me had made me forget all about that though.

I shouldn’t have, given how Brutal has treated me so far.

“Good.” He’s breathing heavily, and even though his fingers flex on my arms, he doesn’t let go. “You… You need to get out of my fucking sight. And if you go for the front door, so fucking help me, Mimosa. I will beat the fucking shit out of you.”

I nod again, although I don’t know how he expects me to get out of his sight if he doesn’t let me go.

He stares at me with those wild, angry eyes for a moment, then he seems to force himself to take a breath. He releases me, taking a step back. “Go,” he barks. “I don’t want to see you until I come find you. Hide in the fucking closet if you have to.”

I don’t dare speak. I just dash into the nearby walk-in closet. It’s larger than my bedroom in my old apartment had been. I find a blanket stuffed into one of the dresser drawers, wrap it around myself, then go to huddle in a corner behind a row of long coats.

Fuck.

One day of not getting harassed, and I already thought I could turn things in my favor. How fucking stupid is that?

Of course, Brutal’s reaction means he is on something.

And he’s ashamed of it, too.