Shameful | Congressman!Kylo x Reader

Chapter 19: Daddy's Money

HEY :D loving y'all's comments so fucking much. it's so fun to read everyone's feedback. this slow burn is burning a bit quicker now.... but don't worry ;) 

---

I don't remember the rest of that night.

All I remember is Ubering to Ryan's house and riding him for hours with the lights off, replaying Ren's whispered I'd wear you the fuck out over and over and over until my head hurt and I couldn't move. I faintly recall asking Ryan to murmur "But I'm your boss" into my ear as he took me from behind.

I'm not gonna let Ren pull shit like this anymore— he's continuously keeping me at arms' length, yanking me in for a second, then casting me away. I'm utterly desperate, restless, and ashamed. The box with a clear lid has proven useless; I definitively cracked open the padlock and let everything scamper out, free to roam around in my head. I'll pick up the pieces later.

I stir honey into my morning tea, plagued with the memory of Ren pressing himself into me in that hotel bed.

I rake serum through my hair, and can practically feel Ren tugging at my scalp, trapped in the almost-kiss on that fucking couch.

I settle down on the loveseat on my patio and light up a cigarette, and nearly hallucinate him shirtless, the next balcony over, the night he eavesdropped on my call with Rey.

It's Sunday, and I'm fucking strung out over my boss.

After wandering aimlessly around my studio for a bit, stress-cleaning and taking distracted bites of random shit in my fridge, I resolve to take a quick walk outside for a change of scenery.

I grab my headphones and walk out the door. Immediately, I nearly step on a single deep-red rose placed across my doormat.

Next to it is a manila envelope, and I scramble to pick it up and open it, revealing an American Express black card. Attached to it is a note, carefully scrawled in that architect handwriting that makes me squirm:

Today's a great day to spend some more of Daddy's Money.

If you spend any less than 4K, I'm cutting next month's paycheck in half. Be good.

The credit card is heavy and imposing in my hand. I look up and down the hallway to make sure that this isn't some elaborate prank, and take another look at the card. Sure enough, it's got Ren's name on it, clear as day. I ease back into my condo, hands trembling. I stick the deep-red rose in a coffee mug haphazardly filled with water.

If I'm going to spend $4000 minimum today, I might as well look at the part. I grab my pink Givenchy tote and slip on an easy cream-colored Rèalisation Par dress. I barely even recognize myself in the mirror—not my appearance, necessarily. but my heavily-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks.

Kylo Ren has fucked me up beyond comprehension, and in that moment I feel like I've just been put on this earth to make him proud. I need to snap the fuck out of it— eventually.

It takes me a good four hours to get to spend the requisite amount of money on his card.

I purchase any perfume that I've even considered buying, along with a $900 Gilda & Pearl short silk robe. I top off my Botox after a luxury facial, I get my highlights touched up, I gorge on Omakase sushi all by myself, and buy myself three more bottles of that fucking orange wine that arguably started at all. I order Gucci adhesive wallpaper for my condo, two Fleur du Mal lingerie sets, and finish up with an early mortgage payment.

Exhausted, satisfied, and still completely and insurmountably confused by everything, I arrive back home.

I struggle with all of my shopping bags full of shit I don't even need or even particularly want, and run myself a bath. I don't have the capacity to do or think of anything else.