On the day Vincent decided to leave the crime syndicate, he nearly f****d me to death.
He was completely out of control, pinning me beneath him and taking me hard all night.
He tore my lace panties to shreds and left them scattered at the foot of the bed.
I was almost too breathless to speak when I rasped, "Vincent... is the world ending?"
His eyes were dark with desire. Every thrust was deeper and rougher than the last, as if he wanted to consume me whole.
Afterward, he leaned against the headboard with a cigar between his fingers. Through the drifting smoke, his brutally handsome face looked colder than ever.
"Cheryl, if I ended things with you, you wouldn't cling to me, would you?"
He sounded casual, almost as if he were joking, but a chill ran through me.
After 10 years at Vincent's side, I knew his temperament better than anyone.
He liked women who knew how to behave but still had a rebellious streak.
So I took the half-finished cigar from him, forced down the emotions churning inside me, and looked up with a lazy smile.
"You still think I'm that 18-year-old girl who would've died for you?"
If I were still 18 and he dared to throw me away, I really would have stormed into his territory and gambled my life on him.
But I was 28 now.
Vincent ruffled my hair and took the cigar before it could burn my fingers.
"Cheryl, this is where it ends. We're not kids anymore. We can't keep living like this."
I froze.
At 28, crying first during a breakup felt like admitting defeat.
I swallowed my tears, grabbed my coat from beside the bed, and started to leave.
Vincent hooked an arm around my waist and dragged me back onto the mattress. His scorching lips pressed to my bare spine and traveled slowly downward, just as they had earlier that night.
Then he leaned close to my ear, his voice low and dangerous. "Did you hear me? Hmm?"
The command in his tone was the same one he used when he expected absolute obedience from his subordinates.
I stared at him in silence. He gave a quiet laugh.
"It's going to rain. Stay for one more round before you go."
I had spent 10 years letting Vincent have his way. Maybe he'd forgotten how stubborn I could be once I finally made up my mind.
When I cut someone off, I cut them off cleanly.
I shoved him away and smiled faintly. "You really think a little rain is enough to make me stay?"
For a moment, Vincent looked stunned, but he recovered quickly.
"Cheryl, you're smart. Her name is Lily Parker. She's too innocent to sink into this life with me. But you can, Cheryl."
What did he mean that "I can"?
I looked at the torn black lace on the floor and the soaked sheets, and the whole scene suddenly felt bitterly ironic.
For years, Vincent had dressed me exactly the way he liked, in black stockings, stilettos, and tight dresses.
For one moment, I wanted to demand an answer.
Then he lifted a finger to his lips, telling me to be quiet. Lily was calling.
"Vincent, didn't you say you were coming to pick me up? I'm all alone. I'm scared..."
Aksara