Between Us

Chapter Fifteen - Manipulation At Its Finest

The night had stretched far longer than I'd imagined. After countless introductions, forced smiles, and the feeling of being examined from every angle, I could finally breathe again when the last guest left around 2:15 in the morning. As soon as the door clicked shut, I slipped up the stairs, my heart pounding in relief. Reaching my room, I shut the door, double-checked the lock, and all but collapsed onto the bed.

The silence settled around me, thick and stifling, and I felt the emotions that I'd kept buried all evening begin to surface, unraveling rapidly. A sob escaped me, and then another, until I was quietly crying, the weight of the night pressing down on me like a heavy stone. My mind churned over every touch, every look, each whispered comment that had made me feel less like a person and more like some sort of prize—a living display meant for entertainment. The reality of it hit me like a wave, and I felt raw, exposed, and utterly alone.

No one had told me this was part of the deal. During those first conversations with Charles and Arabella, there had been laughter, curiosity, an air of excitement about a life I couldn't quite imagine but wanted to try. I hadn't signed up to be poked and prodded, made to feel like a trophy. I had tried my best all night to keep up appearances, to smile when expected, to endure their friends' bold curiosity. But here, alone in my room, it felt as if I'd been stripped bare and left in a spotlight with no escape.

I wanted to believe Arabella and Charles cared, that they'd see me, not just the fantasy I represented. But my gut twisted with fear that if they sensed my dismay, they'd cast me aside as though I were a flawed piece in their perfect arrangement. And what would I do then? I had nowhere to go back to, and that scared me most of all.

I lay there, my body curled tightly as I wiped tears from my cheeks, silently praying they wouldn't knock on my door or, worse, come in despite the lock. Every creak in the hallway set me on edge, and I braced myself for the possibility of hearing their voices, of having to mask the hurt, the rejection.

Tomorrow would come too soon, and I didn't know how I'd face them.

I blink, trying to clear my eyes and steady myself as Arabella's figure sharpens in the doorway. I could hardly believe she'd entered without permission, or that she had even been standing there, waiting, while I was vulnerable and unprepared. My head still throbbed from last night's drinks, the edges of my memories fuzzy, but the feeling of discomfort—of somehow crossing an invisible line I couldn't even see—loomed larger with every second.

"Holy shit!" I blurt, my voice rasping. "You scared me." My hand grips my chest, feeling my heartbeat speed up.

She doesn't flinch, though her gaze tightens ever so slightly. "Poppy, dear, we don't lock doors around here," she replies, her voice soft but unyielding, as if she's reminding me of something I should already understand.

Her words linger uncomfortably. We don't lock doors. I gather my thoughts, trying to shake off the frustration brewing in my chest. "Do you... have keys?" I ask, my voice edged with the boldness I'd found in the safety of solitude last night.

Arabella lets out a soft, humorless chuckle. "What a silly question. Of course we have keys. It's our home, Poppy." She steps further into the room, her footsteps quiet but somehow commanding. Each inch closer makes me instinctively tense, even as I force my body to stay calm. "We have keys to every door. But anyway," she continues, voice shifting to something both softer and yet still warning, "as I said. We're willing to give you all the privacy you need, but you must respect our wishes as well."

She moves to the edge of the bed, her gaze set on me with an intensity that sends a chill through me. I swallow, confused. This shift in her feels wrong, like the air has changed overnight, growing heavier and more complicated. Last night, I'd done everything I thought they'd wanted—smiling, engaging, holding my own discomfort at bay for their sake. So why did it feel like I'd already failed?