Dana

Chapter Fifteen

I lay in bed trying to fall asleep again, when the bedroom door flew open all of a sudden and Jared came striding in. Well, more like limping on a crutch. I felt a wave of guilt wash over me; I was the reason he was limping.

He was on his cell phone, and he was mad.

"I don't want your fucking opinion, you can shove it up your ass. And if I don't see everything smoothed out by the time he comes back, I'll shoot your dick off. You have seven hours."

With that he hung up. He was scowling and cursing under his breath. He didn't seem to notice me, sitting in bed and staring at him.

He then proceeded to kick over the armchair with his good leg, and then the coffee table by the window. He turned and punched the wall so hard, his knuckles bled. He then grabbed a wine bottle from the small fridge by the bed and poured himself a drink.

I sat watching him, afraid to speak or move.

After a few drinks, he flung the wineglass at the wall above the bed and it shattered over my head.

I screamed as glass rained over me. A small shard got stuck in my forearm and blood welled up around it.

"Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you? Bipolar asshole! Why'd you do that?"

For a grown man and a young mafia boss, he had very little self control.

Only then did he look at me and for a moment, he looked confused. Then his face cleared like he remembered why I was here.

"Get out."

His voice was so cold.

"You told me to stay here."

"Now you're free to go."

"Like I said before, I'm not your whore, you can't boss me around."

How dare he tell me what to do?

"You are my fucking whore and you will do as I fucking say."

His words left me speechless.

He was beside me in a second and his fingers wrapped around my arm. He lifted me clear off the bed with one hand and dragged me to the door.

I resisted, of course.

"Let me go! Ow, it hurts."

I closed my eyes as pain shot up my arm.

He stopped and then let me go. I looked up at him and he was frowning at me.

"What happened?"

"Are you for real? You broke that glass and this landed in my arm."
I shoved my arm in his face. He grabbed it and pulled me to the bathroom. He opened the door and turned the lights on, his jaw clenched.

He pushed me down on the closed toilet seat and opened the medicine cabinet. He took out some tweezers, bandages and a tube and sat on the edge of the bathtub beside me, stretching out his bad leg. When he took my hand in his, my pulse skyrocketed. His fingers were surprisingly warm. I was acutely aware of the fact that I wasn't wearing any pants, just cotton panties under the t-shirt. My thighs were bare and his hand brushed them once as he wound the white gauze around my arm.

God, that felt good.

He called you a whore! Stop it, stop feeling like this!

His whore.

It was so wrong but I inevitably felt a little prickle of happiness at his words.