Page 68 of Brutal
It’s hard to tell how Mimosa feels about that. There isn’t any vitriol in her voice, but I know she still blames her sister for…
For me.
It’s only then that I remember I promised her information on her sister, and I feel a little guilty for not having shared it sooner. She’d put up with the wax and the party for it, and even though she hadn’t technically had a choice, she’d behaved anyway.
I bite back the memory of my jealousy at the afterparty, the strange way I’d felt when other men had laid eyes on her and imagined doing the sorts of things only I’m allowed to do to her.
“She’s doing okay,” I mumble. “For what it’s worth. She’s not at the best place to work, but she can come and go.”
Mimosa lifts her head to look at me, her eyes strangely soft and vulnerable. “Really?” She catches herself and turns back to the ocean view. “Good for her, I guess. She can have fun whoring herself out.”
“I could buy her out,” I blurt out.
She tenses, then lowers her head. “I don’t know. Do whatever you want with your money.”
If there was ever a time where I wished I could read somebody’s thoughts, it would be now. I hadn’t really meant to make the offer, and if I wasn’t so selfish, I would’ve just offered to free Mimosa instead.
But I’m too fucking selfish. I won’t let her go.
I can’t.
The realization is a hard one to swallow, and I don’t like it at all.
“Sorry,” I say. “I…”
I wish I could offer to let you go, I almost say.
Mimosa lets out a long sigh, then turns around to lean against the yacht’s railing. “It’s fine. Whatever. I’m sure you have more plans for tonight than to listen to me be melancholy.”
“My plans tonight include listening to you in general,” I tell her, stepping behind her and wrapping my arms around her again. I kiss her neck, wishing I could express this mutinous series of thoughts—and that she’d welcome them. “I know you have really mixed feelings about her. And you know I couldn’t give less fucks about what happens to her. I’d rather spend my money spoiling you, but I want to give you a gift that means something.”
“Start a scholarship,” Mimosa says.
I lean away so I can look her in the eyes. “What?”
“You could fund a lot of students, right?” Mimosa waves her hand dismissively. “Never mind. It was just something I was thinking. What I would do if I had your kind of money.”
“Students of what?” I ask, unwilling to let it go. This is the first time she’s really expressed anything like this, any sort of want that I never would’ve thought of, and I find that the idea of it appeals to me. Chase donates to all sorts of charities, and he harps on me about doing the same. I guess I’ve just never really found something to be passionate enough about.
“I don’t know. Psychology? We need more mental health professionals.” She runs a hand through her newly-blue hair. “Maybe some sort of mental health charity too. There are so many people who can’t afford the help or medications they need.” Then she laughs. “I guess that’s my soapbox. Anyway.”
I take a deep breath, touching her cheek. “And that would make you happy?”
I don’t know why I care. I don’t know why I feel so vulnerable, like her approval somehow means something. It makes me want to lash out, makes me want to hurt her, and I don’t know how to handle the conflicting feelings.
Mimosa meets my gaze. “You can’t buy approval, Drake.”
I flinch, looking away from her. That’s not what I wanted to hear, and I feel heavy. Tired.
“You should do something positive with your money because it’s the right thing to do. If you don’t care about mental health issues, then find something you do care about. It shouldn’t matter whether I’m happy about this.” She squeezes my hand. “But everybody, not just me, would think you’re a nicer person if you’re willing to do something for others with no benefit to yourself.”
“I don’t really give a fuck about what everybody thinks,” I mutter, looking down at the water instead of looking back up at her. “I don’t know why I give a fuck what you think.”
“That’s fine.” Mimosa lets go of my hand and leans against the railing again. “Your self-worth shouldn’t hang on other people’s opinions. But you also can’t expect anyone to like you if you only think about yourself.”
But I only care about myself.
Myself, and Mimosa, and I don’t understand it at all.