23

[REBECCA]
“Well, I would describe jealousy as a wave. It crashes into your heart with a mix of emotions. Anger and sadness. Most of the time, it’s not a pleasant feeling, but it hurts. Right here,” she said, placing her hand over her heart. “It hurts. Your chest tightens, and it feels like you can’t breathe. Sometimes you might feel like crying or becoming so furious that you want to resort to violence, like punching someone in the face. I can’t exactly put it into words, but it’s quite overwhelming.”
Placing my hand over my heart, I looked down at my chest. “I don’t know. I didn’t feel anything like that. I was confused, shocked, and disgusted, but not jealous.”
“You weren’t?” I detected disappointment in her voice, and I raised my gaze to meet her eyes.
“I don’t think so. Why would I be jealous?”
“I don’t know. I thought maybe you felt something for him. I mean, the tension between the two of you is practically palpable.”
I was numb. Emotions were off-limits, especially when it came to someone like Artemy. Allowing myself to become emotionally attached meant inviting heartbreak, and I had learned the hard way not to trust men. I couldn’t forget Raffaele’s wicked grin, permanently etched in my memory, forever tainting my perception of other men.
“There’s undeniable sexual tension between you two. Don’t even try to deny it. It’s palpable,” she continued, oblivious to my emotional shutdown. “Do you have feelings for him?” Her voice seemed distant. “Becca?”
I blinked a few times, realizing she was shaking me. “I’m sorry,” I muttered.
“Are you alright?”
I stood up on unsteady legs. “I don’t feel well. I think I’ll rest for a while and come back when it’s time for lunch.”
She nodded slowly, and I forced a smile before walking away.
Confusion engulfed me. I couldn’t decipher my own emotions or understand how I truly felt. With my heart racing, I made my way to my room, feeling utterly drained.
But as I entered, my eyes widened, and I froze.
“Becca,” he said.
Artemy sat comfortably on my sofa, his ankle crossed over his knee, as if he belonged there. Leaning back against the seat effortlessly, he exuded an air of familiarity.
“One thing I absolutely detest is when I’m talking to someone, and they don’t pay attention,” he drawled lazily. “You turned your back on me earlier. That’s quite rude, kitten.” The endearment made my heart squeeze, and I despised it. My treacherous heart.
There was something about Artemy that intrigued me, despite my lingering fear. Beneath all the layers of apprehension, curiosity for him blossomed. He could be angry one moment and tender the next, sending conflicting signals that stirred my broken heart.
It infuriated me that I couldn’t comprehend it all, and I resented him for making me feel. “Come here,” he ordered, curling his finger.
I didn’t budge.
He sighed heavily, shaking his head, a small smirk dancing on his lips. Slowly, Artemy rose from the sofa, meticulously adjusting his suit before advancing toward me-or rather, stalking. His strides were long, powerful, and exuded confidence.
“You know, I despise repeating myself, but with you, I don’t seem to mind,” he said. He stopped right in front of me, invading my personal space as he always did. However, this time, I had a slight advantage. I wasn’t cornered, so I took a step back, creating some distance. Yet, he promptly took a step forward.
He never gives up, does he?
I instinctively took a step back, and just as I anticipated, he confidently advanced. His mischievous eyes gleamed as he spoke, “Are we going to keep playing this game? It’s getting dull, my little kitten. Let’s find something more captivating to do, shall we?”
Shaking my head, I brushed my hair aside, attempting to create a barrier between us. However, this time, my retreat was halted abruptly by the presence of the door behind me. Artemy laughed, closing in until his body pressed firmly against mine, trapping me against the door. With a mocking tone, he remarked, “See what happens when you try to escape?” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, feigning pity.
Leaning closer, Artemy’s breath grazed my right ear, causing the fine hairs on my neck to stand on end. A shiver coursed through my body, and I instinctively reached out to push him away. Yet, instead of freeing myself, he clasped my hand, imprisoning me against him. His voice, whispering against my neck, froze me in place, eliciting a gasp. Artemy pulled back slightly, meeting my gaze directly.
“Did you enjoy what you saw?” he inquired with a smirk, leaving me stunned by his question. My eyes widened, and my heart sank into the depths of my stomach. How could he ask such a thing? He was despicable.
Struggling to articulate my thoughts, I attempted to say, “Let me go,” but it came out as an unintelligible murmur. “Do you truly want me to, my kitten?” Artemy asked gruffly.
Unable to find my voice, I nodded silently, not wanting to further embarrass myself. “Say it, then,” he commanded.
“Let me…” I began, but before I could finish my sentence, Artemy forcefully pressed his lips against mine, claiming them with possessiveness and aggression. He pushed me harder against the door, his arms encircling my waist, lifting me slightly for better access to my lips.
His forceful kisses sent my senses into disarray. My mind went blank as I hung limply in his arms. Without thinking, my lips responded hesitantly to his, as he continued to consume me. Heat overwhelmed me, intensifying the chaos within.
I felt his hand on my thigh, gradually lifting my dress. When his hand touched my bare skin, I abruptly pulled away from his lips. What was I doing? How could I stoop to such vulgar behavior? How could I let a man like him affect me in this manner?
The room filled with our heavy breathing, each breath causing my chest to rise and fall rapidly. As I stared into his piercing blue eyes, I trembled under his smoldering gaze. Swallowing hard, I urged myself to regain composure, not allowing him to overpower me.
Determinedly, I grabbed the hand that lingered on my thigh, pushing it away from me. His eyes widened slightly in surprise at my audacity, and an eyebrow arched in curiosity. “Don’t touch me. I’m not like… those women,” I managed to say between gasps for air.
“Like who?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. He knew exactly what I meant, yet he reveled in tormenting me for the answer.
“Like that woman. I’m not like her. Don’t treat me… like one,” I squeaked, pushing at his chest once more, but he remained unmoved.
“You mean, you’re not a whore?” he questioned sternly, causing me to flinch at the word. Painful memories surged forward, and I closed my eyes tightly, trying to shut them out.
Look at her, broken and lying on the floor, our fluids staining her body. Just like a whore.
That’s what you are, Becca. Never forget it. Do you hear me?
A gentle touch on my cheek jolted me back to reality. The word that filled me with disdain echoed in my mind-Raffaele used it more often than my own name.
“Becca, I never called you that,” Artemy’s voice whispered, surprisingly tender. “If I truly believed you were a whore, I would have sent you to one of my prostitution rings. But I didn’t, did I?”
His words played on a loop in my head. He didn’t think I was a whore. He never uttered those cruel words.
My heart skipped a beat as his thumb traced my cheek. “Are you okay?” he asked.
I couldn’t bring myself to respond.
He sighed, withdrawing his hand from my neck. “Fine, I won’t touch you,” he declared, distancing himself from me.
His admission stunned me, and I regarded him with suspicion.
“I won’t touch you unless you ask me to,” he clarified, lowering himself slightly to meet my gaze.
That would never happen. Ever. Which meant he would never lay a hand on me. Relief washed over me, but my wariness remained.
For now, I decided to take him at his word.
“Okay?” he asked.
I nodded, struggling to swallow the lump in my throat. Were we finished? I hoped so because if he continued to toy with my emotions, I would crumble. And I couldn’t allow that to happen.
I nodded once more.
A soft chuckle escaped his lips, and he adjusted his position, making me aware that his body was still pressed against mine.
I glanced down and then back up at his face. He regarded me with an amused expression. Clearing my throat, I attempted to push him away, and this time he moved slightly, creating some space. But he still encroached on my personal boundaries, trapping me against the door.
“You… you said you wouldn’t touch me,” I stammered, snapping my mouth shut. Inhaling deeply, I gathered my courage. “Yet, you’re touching me right now.”
“Am I?” he responded.
Was that even a question? His body practically engulfed mine.
“You are,” I affirmed.
“Okay, then.” Artemy stepped away from me, running his fingers through his hair, tousling it in the process.
He was about to say something when his phone interrupted him. Frustration creased his forehead, and he swiftly retrieved his phone from his pocket. While keeping his gaze fixed on me, he answered the call.
“Yeah?” he said, pausing for a few seconds. “Okay. I’m on my way,” he stated, his voice turning cold and menacing. Artemy pocketed his phone and walked toward me. I quickly moved aside, granting him passage, but I kept my head down, refusing to meet his eyes.
I heard the door open, but it didn’t close. Confusion washed over me, and just as I was about to turn around, I felt hot breath against the back of my neck. Panic gripped my body, but as I heard Artemy’s voice, some of the tension eased.
“I won’t touch you unless you beg me to,” he murmured.
His words made my muscles tense, and my heartbeat quickened.
With that, I heard him walk away again, and the door closed behind him.
Placing a trembling hand over my chest, I took deep breaths, attempting to steady myself.
Beg him?
I scoffed at his presumption and made my way to the bed, lying down on my back. That would never happen.