Dominated (Obsessed II)

38.

Jude Bellingham
The Wrong Question

I hadn't heard from Bianca in three days, and by the third night I had finally ran out of excuses for the silence. Normally, I would've told myself not to overthink it. Bianca had always been unpredictable with communication since she came back, especially when she knew I was waiting for her. Especially in this weird period where she says she's handling something, she refuses to talk about but will only when she sees me.

Sometimes she would disappear for hours simply because she could, then return as though no time had passed at all. I'd learned not to bombard her with calls because it only made things worse. Nothing I tried telling myself was particularly convincing, but they were easier to live with than admitting that the silence bothered me.

Tomorrow was the day we were supposed to meet, and whether I wanted to admit it or not, I'd spent most of the day thinking about it. I had gone through training, answered messages, sat through a dinner I barely tasted and tried to occupy myself with anything that would stop me checking my phone every few minutes. It hadn't worked.

Eventually, I gave in. I picked up my phone from the coffee table and found her name among my recent calls. I stared at it for a moment before pressing down on the screen. The apartment was quiet around me, the television playing low enough that I couldn't make out the words. The phone rang several times before the call went to voicemail. I waited a few seconds, then tried again. Nothing. I ended the call without leaving a message and let the phone fall onto the cushion beside me.

"Come on, Bianca." I muttered, rubbing a hand over my jaw.

I wasn't angry. Mostly, I was uneasy, and I didn't like the feeling. Too much had happened in too short a time for silence to feel harmless anymore. I had spent ages believing Bianca was dead, then months trying to understand what it meant that she wasn't. I'd spent even longer trying to separate the woman I thought she was from the person I know she is .

Tomorrow was supposed to give me some kind of answer, even if I didn't know what that answer looked like yet. I had no idea what I was going to say when I saw her. But at the same time I knew everything what I wanted to say to her.

A knock sounded against my front door. I looked up. It came again, three firm knocks this time.

I frowned and glanced toward the clock. I wasn't expecting anyone, and there was nothing about the sound that suggested a delivery driver impatiently waiting for me to answer. I got up from the sofa and crossed the room, slowing as I reached the door. When I looked through the peephole and saw Richard jr. of all people standing on the other side, every muscle in my body seemed to tighten at once.

I seriously have the lousiest security. I'm firing everyone tomorrow.

There was also woman beside him. I didn't recognize her. My hand remained on the handle for a moment before I opened the door only a fraction.

"What are you doing here?"

Richard looked at me, and the expression on his face immediately told me this wasn't a social visit. We'd known each other long enough that I could usually read him before he said a word. Tonight, there was something different in the way he held himself. He looked tired. Not physically tired, but worn down, I could see he'd spent the last months dealing with something he hadn't been able to control. After all, I saw everything online that happened to him and his business. It's crazy how everything crumbled, it was almost like a domino effect.