Restoring Eternity

Chapter 11

Austin’s POV

I knocked on the door of Gielle’s mansion. It felt weird knocking, I was so used to just going right in. Mason, her butler, opened the door and looked surprised to see me.

            “Mr. Carlile,” he said in his British accent, giving me a little bow.

            “Mase, just call me Austin,” I said. “You know that.” Mason and I both hated Gielle, but he got paid and didn’t want to leave at the moment. He gestured me closer.

            “The bitch is upstairs in her room waiting for you,” he whispered in my ear. “I’d suggest staying a few feet away from her. She might try to seduce you.”

            “That’s nasty,” I said, twisting my face up.

            “At least you didn’t have to help her pick out crotchless panties,” he said.

            “I feel so fucking bad for you,” I said with sympathy.

            “Just get in there and get out quickly,” Mason told me. “Hurry.”

            “Thanks, Mase.”

I proceeded up the staircase, then went down a few familiar hallways. She hadn’t changed things around much at all. Everything was still white and gold, sparkly, with pictures of us lining the walls. I resisted the urge to smash my fist into every one of the glass frames.

            I paused outside of Gielle’s room, taking a deep breath before I knocked on the door.

            “Who is it?” I heard that sultry voice say. It made my stomach turn.

            “A-Austin,” I called hesitantly.

            “Come in, baby.”

I forced myself to open the door and walked in, shutting it behind me.

            Gielle was sitting on her California king bed with her legs wide open. I tried not to gag. Mason was right about the crotchless panties. I feel his pain. I feel the feels.

            She had on a black feather boa with matching black lingerie and sky-high white heels on.

            “Come closer,” she purred, beckoning me.

            “I- I really don’t want to,” I said. Gielle stood up and slowly walked to me. I tried to keep my facial expression neutral.

            “Austin, babe, what’s wrong?” she asked, pouting her already botoxed-to-the-max lips.

            “Gielle, we need to talk,” I said.

            “There’s nothing to talk about,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. Oh, yes there fucking is.

            “Sit down,” I said, losing my temper.

            “What?”

          “Sit. Down,” I said firmly, grabbing her arm and throwing her onto the couch beside her bed. “Look,” I said. “I don’t love you, Gielle. You’re high or something. When we divorced, you were supposed to leave me alone and we would go our separate ways. I’m not in love with you anymore. Get that through your fucking head. You’re just going to drive yourself crazy running after me because I do not want you.”