Page 103 of The Damaged Billionaire's Obsession
“What about your parents? What did they do about all of this?”
“Nothing. Well, my father called me a prostitute.”
My eyes widen, and I rear back in anger and disbelief. This time, I don’t bother to hide my reaction. “Excuse me?”
“Um… maybe if I explained about how I grew up, then you’ll understand how he could have done that.”
She tells me about her childhood in the Harmonial Sect, the cult that dictated the cruel and ludicrous rules she had to abide by growing up. She tells me everything, up until her trip to Clonmel. I thought my heart was done breaking for her, but Jesus fucking Christ, did it get worse.
I want to laugh. And kick myself.I thought I went through pain?
I used to think that nothing could hurt worse than a surgeon ripping through my abdomen whilst I was awake, unable to do anything except grit my teeth and bear it, but this?
I see the full picture now. Why she is the way she is and why she called to me on a deeper level. I’ve been through trauma, but mine only lasted a few hours. Hers lasted for almost her entire life.
I can’t believe this tiny, delicate woman went through unspeakable horror and still emerged strong.
“You’re so beautiful and resilient and so smart, Bonnie. I am in awe of you.”
“Thank you,” she says shyly. “My real name is Siobhán Ni Ruaidhrí, you know. I changed it to Bonnie.”
“Siobhán is such a beautiful name. Did you change it to make it less Irish-sounding?” I now understand why she tries to bury her past, her accent, and her name.
“Yes. But you can call me Siobhán, if you want.”
And that has my cock springing to life so fast that I get dizzy. Damn. That completely blindsided me. “Aw, hell, baby.”
Fuck, she’s pressing buttons I didn’t even know I had.
“You liked that.” She pushes against my hardness.
“A lot, apparently.” And I actually feel my face heating up.
Christ. Get it together, it’s only a nameshe gave you. “You’re dangerous for my blood pressure.”
“Keep your doctors close by then, old man,” she teases.
“Hmm. I’ll tell you what I think about doctors.” I put her hand around the wrinkled skin on my right side.
“What’s that?”
“I had my appendix taken out at sixteen.” If she can trust me enough to open up about her trauma, then so can I. “We didn’t have insurance, so Dad could only afford a certain type of doctor. Only, the anesthesiologist made a mistake. He paralyzed my muscles but didn’t quite deaden the nerves.”
“What happened?”
“I felt every slice and the gut-wrenching pain as my insides were pulled apart. I heard every comment. Every joke in the operating room. They even wondered why my blood pressure kept going through the roof. I couldn’t open my eyes or scream in agony. I had to lie there and take the pain. And keep taking it. And it never stopped.”
“Ethan, oh, my God, that’s horrible!”
“Oh, it was. Excruciatingly so. I was damaged goods afterwards. Ten years of therapy gave me a semblance of normalcy. I still have phantom pain sometimes.”
She rubs the scar. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. Is that why you—”
“Have to have control over everything near me? Yeah, pretty much,” I respond.
“And you said you wouldn’t consider a procedure for your eyes. Is that why?”
“It's only a three-hour-long procedure. I wouldn’t even be put to sleep. But I can’t be helpless in someone else’s control again.”