Butterfly's Year

12. A matter of clothing

I was so furious with Victor that when we got back to the apartment, I couldn't even look at him. I quickly grabbed my nightshirt and escaped to the shower. I locked the door and poured gallons of hot water over myself, which did nothing to calm my agitation and only made my already raging heart beat even faster.

– Are you just going to go to sleep like that? – he asked, pointing at my nightshirt when I finally emerged from the bathroom.

– What else should I do, since you treat me like a child? – I snapped back.

– Because in these matters, you are like a child – he stated bluntly. – You supposedly have two mothers, yet you behave like an orphan who raised herself in the jungle.

I stopped and gave him a combative look. Who exactly was he saying was raised in the jungle?

– Me? – I asked, my voice full of disbelief.

– Neither of them taught you how to deal with men in a way that wouldn't harm you – Victor replied. – Your mother told you to avoid them, and Mirabela showed you how to provoke them. That's why I worry about you. Every time you talk to a strange man, you behave inappropriately. They drool at the sight of you and look at you as if they'd tear your clothes off before you could even say your name. Maybe you do it unconsciously and don't even realize it, but that's not how women in relationships behave.

– Women in relationships? – I raised my eyebrows high and looked at him through narrowed eyes.

– You're my woman – he said, bravely holding my gaze.

– Yours? – I repeated after him, my tone dangerously close to outrage.

I wanted to sharply protest that I wasn't anyone's property, but Victor spoke first.

– You know very well I don't treat you like an object – he said quickly. – Let's not start this argument. You are a free person and you don't belong to anyone, but there's a difference between a woman who's single and one who has a partner. If you dress like that, they'll take you for a single woman and hit on you.

The little creature living inside me furrowed its brows in confusion and was ready to attack, but I softened my tone a bit, slowly understanding what was going on in his head.

– But I won't hit on them, even if they stood in front of me naked, because I already have my happiness – I replied as warmly as I could, sending him a kind smile.

The hard chocolate in his eyes flickered, but the rest of his face remained impassive.

– Don't do that again – he growled. – Take me with you or at least a girlfriend. And wear a bra.

The little creature inside me couldn't stand the tension anymore, and I didn't feel like stopping it. I tried to be understanding, moved in with him into this absurdly expensive apartment, accepted those damn shares I didn't deserve at all, and now he wanted to chauffeur me around and dress me as he pleased?

– You won't tell me how to dress – I retorted, indignant. – I understand that you're worried about me and I don't want you to lose your mind because of me, but this is too much. I dress how I want. It never bothered you before.

– Paulina, it excites men – Victor sighed heavily, as if he were explaining to a child for the hundredth time that two plus two equals four. – More than if you stood naked in front of them. And you are my girlfriend.

– Now you're exaggerating – I concluded dryly. – They're just breasts.

– They're mine – he growled, looking at them possessively. – I don't want anyone else to touch them or even imagine doing so.