Page 43 of Unforgettable
“Hello, handsome,” I greet Matthew with a smile.
A dark chuckle meets my ear and goosebumps prickle along my skin. “Glad you still find your old man attractive,” Mr. Perfect says. “I’m disappointed in you, Tessa. Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been about you?”
I’m shocked speechless. I let out some kind of inarticulate noise, but as always, he doesn’t actually want a response to his question. In the back of my mind, I wonder how he got my phone number.
“Mr. Brown is willing to forgive your absence… for a price. You need to be smart and come back with me before the price is too high for you to pay.”
My breathing becomes ragged as Mr. Brown’s face swims in front of me. He’s the cruelest of all of my clients. The one who gave me the scar on my thigh, among others. To all of them, I was a toy to be played with then discarded once I was used up. Most of them were cognizant of how far they could take things without breaking me… Mr. Brown pushed those boundaries every time. Sometimes it took weeks for my body to heal after a session with him. Mr. Perfect never complained, though, because Mr. Brown compensated him heavily for the privilege of trying to break me beyond repair.
“It’s time for you to come home, Tessa.”
I try to form words, but my mouth won’t cooperate. I’m frozen.
“It’s okay, Tessa, you don’t have to say anything. I can hear that sweet panic bubbling up inside you.” Hot tears spill over as he talks. “There’s just not enough oxygen to fill up those precious lungs of yours. I bet your heart is fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings.” He pauses briefly as if he’s savoring the sound of my terror. “My cock is hard just thinking about how sweet you smell when you’re scared. I’m coming for you, Tessa. Soon.”
The line clicks, and the screen turns black indicating the end of the call. I stare at the phone in my hand like it’s a live grenade. I wonder again how he got my phone number. I know for a fact none of the four people who know it would ever give it to anyone, let alone Nelson Grant.
My panic and fear morph into rage as the reality sinks in. Mr. Perfect knows where I am, and he’s coming for me.
“No!” I scream into the empty apartment, throwing my phone at the wall. It makes a satisfying crash as the screen shatters.
The anger doesn’t subside. It grows and grows into a monstrous thing that can’t be contained. I pick up a lamp and throw it against the wall. I don’t stop with that. Everything in my path falls victim to my rage. I’ve felt many negative emotions over the years, but nothing like this. I’m out of my depth and losing control.
My voice grows hoarse from screaming, but still, I rage on hellbent on destruction. I overturn the coffee table and a chair. I fling another chair at the TV and find satisfaction in the chaos I’m creating.
I’m so caught up in the madness that I don’t hear the elevator ding, nor do I hear Matthew calling my name. When his strong arms wrap around me from behind, I scream and fight against his hold. I kick him and buck against him. He grunts when my elbow makes contact with his gut, but he doesn’t release me.
Matthew is easily twice my size. There’s nothing stopping him from overpowering me and holding me down. He could use his size and strength in any manner of aggressive ways to stop me, but that’s not his style. He’s a dominant through and through. He might keep that side of himself locked down around me, but it’s always there simmering under the surface.
I fight against his hold like a hellcat determined to break free and continue my rampage. He wraps one arm around my upper arms, pinning my back to his chest. I kick out with both legs trying to dislodge his hold, but he doesn’t release me. When I try to headbutt him, he grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls until my head is forced back and to the side. The bite of pain snaps something inside me, and the fight drains from my muscles. Matthew doesn’t stop there. Using his hold on my hair, he pulls me down until I’m kneeling in front of him, his arm a steel band around my torso.
Somehow, everything in my head is calm. The riotous storm of emotion has evaporated. That one bite of pain brought me back from the brink of insanity.
“I’m going to release your arms now, and you will be calm. You will not move from this spot. Do you understand?” Matthew’s words are full of command and send electric shivers throughout my body.
Oh, my God.
“I asked you a question.”
I try to nod, but my head is held in place by his firm grip. I swallow thickly. “Y-yes, I understand.” The words are barely whispered through my savaged vocal cords, completely raw and abused from my screams.
Slowly, he loosens his grip on me. First, he releases my body, then the punishing bite of him pulling my hair lessens, though he doesn’t release it completely. As soon as the bite of pain disappears from my scalp, the energy drains from my body. My bottom falls heavily onto my feet, and my shoulders hunch forward. The only thing keeping my head up is Matthew’s hand still tangled in my hair.
Using one finger, he tilts my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “You care to tell me why you destroyed our home?”
Our home.
Not his home.
Ours.
Tears blur my vision, and a vise squeezes around my heart. What have I done?
Matthew’s grip in my hair tightens in warning. He wants an answer, but I can’t settle my thoughts enough to tell him what happened. I look around at the utter destruction surrounding us, and hot bile rushes up my throat.
“Sick…” I whimper.
Thankfully, Matthew has quick reflexes. In seconds I’m in the bathroom, my head over the toilet as I empty the contents of my stomach. I retch until there is nothing left, and even then, I heave more as if my body is trying to cleanse the darkness from my soul.