Page 82 of Brutal

Or just the one life, the one where I’m useless and trapped.

I eat more of the sushi while I wait for Drake’s response.

And here I thought you weren’t adventurous.

It’s a little rude, in direct contrast to the playfulness of the previous texts, and it dims my mood.

Buy a dildo and harness, I’ll show your ass adventurous, I text back, a little annoyed.

The sushi doesn’t taste as luxurious as it had before.

Several minutes pass, then a screenshot comes through without any text accompanying it.

The bastard actually did it. He ordered the items.

I bite my lip, but I can’t hold in the laughter. I start giggling to myself, drawing stares from the other diners, but I don’t care.

I shake my head and write, If you’re nice, I might even let you lube up first.

He sends me three exclamation points back, then another screenshot follows: a receipt for an industrial size bottle of lube.

I have no way of knowing if he plans on using any of this or if he’s just fucking around, but it still makes me laugh all over again.

Shit. Why do I find him so amusing? What the fuck is wrong with me?

I think back to Janine, and the health services on campus, but none of that makes me feel hopeful.

“You can’t fix him,” I whisper to myself as I look at the phone. “People like him can’t be fixed.”

But that includes me, probably. I’m a broken mess too, I’m just doing a decent job pretending I’m okay.

If I were okay, I wouldn’t be entertaining this idea that staying with Drake might actually be good.

I type, Stop goofing off and pay attention to your work. Don’t jerk off in the bathroom either.

Fine, fine.

To my surprise, he does stop texting me. I can’t say whether he’s actually working or if he’s just bugging someone else, but he’s learning to at least try to listen.

I know he was disappointed this morning, either because I put a stop to things or because I’d shut down his hints about going back to more extreme BDSM.

I don’t like pain, though. I don’t need to go back to crying in fear and anguish.

I don’t want to cater to his whims in the bedroom. I want to have a say in things. I want to feel like my desires matter.

I glance at the last piece of sushi on my plate.

And maybe it’s a test, too. Because if he goes back to ignoring my wishes… Well, I’ll have my answer.

He’d be an irredeemable monster, and I’d be the idiot who didn’t run when she had the chance.

I eat the fatty tuna, and I know that I’m going to go back to his penthouse after this. I’m going to give him the chance he probably doesn’t deserve.

The chance he definitely doesn’t deserve.

I glance at the phone and whisper, “Don’t you fucking dare prove me right.”

CHAPTER 21