Page 5 of Spike (Iron Thunder MC 5)
I had to grip the sides of the sink to stop myself from kicking the wall. I was in very high heels and besides, that reaction would not be productive at all.
Instead, I tried to take in deep breaths to calm myself. It was as if I was having a panic attack even though I was going home, to the old familiar. Back home to the only life I had ever known.
The truth was I didn’t want to go back. Could I stay here? Suspended in air?
“Madam, are you alright?” I heard a voice outside the door. It had to be the flight attendant, checking up on me because he’d been told I needed extra attention.
“Yes, fine, thank you!” I hissed back and applied another coat of lipstick.For a while back there, when I first went to Paris, I thought maybe my life could be different. I was supposed to spend an entire semester there in complete freedom. Daddy had finally agreed to let me go on the condition that I attended a few events he wanted me to be present at.
This was supposed to be my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be free and independent.
Granted, he’d got me a huge apartment and my own maid and an assistant who practically followed me around everywhere—but I was never under the same level of scrutiny I had been back in New York.
Then I met Brett and thought everything was going to change. I met him at a party that Daddy had forced me to attend. He wanted me to represent him and weave my charm.
Brett was the only other person at the party who was remotely close to my age. He was nearly thirty but younger than everyone else. The only other American too.
It wasn’t the kind of instant attraction I had always dreamed about when I was a teenager full of fantasies in my head. Instead, it took a while for me to warm to him. The last thing I wanted now that I was in Paris was to be bound to another man.
But Brett was persistent. He visited me at the apartment often, showering me with gifts and compliments till I actually started believing him. He introduced me to people who were different from me; they partied harder, did drugs. Rich kids who knew exactly how to spend their rich parents’ money. I had never been around people like them before. Daddy had kept me sheltered, but here in Paris, I didn’t feel as if I had any of those responsibilities.
Within a few weeks of Brett coming into my life, I was sure this was it. This was going to be my ticket out of the life I had always despised. I spent less time at my classes, and more time with the people Brett hung out with. None of these people seemed to have jobs or anywhere they had to be in particular. They were all spending their parents’ money and I convinced myself I enjoyed their company.
Maybe I should have stopped to ask myself if I did have feelings for Brett or was it just for fun? But I had somehow convinced myself he was my soulmate, the one who was going to save me from my pathetic life in New York.
One night, I decided to pluck up the courage and ask him. He was giving me a ride back to my apartment from a party. We were making out in the car but I pulled away and asked him what his plan was. What was going to happen with us?
I don’t think I will ever forget the way he burst out laughing at that. His voice pierced my soul like an icicle going through me.
“Sabrina, my beautiful sweet girl, nothing is going to happen with us. Once we are done with each other, we can both go our separate ways. Isn’t that why you’re here in Paris? To have these experiences? You’ll thank me one day.”
Done with each other? I wanted to scream. I could feel the tears brimming my eyes. What about being my soulmate? But I made up my mind to not cry in front of him. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
He tried to lean in and kiss me again but I left. I just got out of the car and ran into the apartment building, taking two steps at a time. The girl who lived with me—my assistant who no doubt was reporting to my dad everything she could find out about me—followed me to my room. But I locked myself in there and didn’t come out.
The next day, Daddy called. I wouldn’t have answered if he hadn’t threatened to come down to Paris himself.
I had spent most of the night crying, not because I missed Brett, but because I had been so stupid. Stupid enough to convince myself it was a real relationship.
