I opened my eyes, and once again found myself in surroundings that I didn’t recognize.
This time, however, my memory of what had brought me to that moment was a little less hazy. I could see it clearly in my mind’s eye: Breaker across the room, getting up and making his way towards me. Pointing at the cash on his table to confirm that yes, he could afford me. The sinking feeling in my chest as I prayed for someone, anyone else, to come forward and want me more. And knowing that, when he put down the ten thousand dollars, there was no chance that anyone else was going to take me. I wasn’t worth that much, even if I was a cop. To Breaker, however…fuck, he’d have probably paid any amount of money to get me away from the prying eyes of people who might not want me hurt. I remembered him walking me out of the club, the feeling of the eyes of everyone in the room upon me…some of them shot me little smirk of amusement, as if they knew what was coming next better than I did. Well, joke was on them, because nothing their brains could have come up with was even remotely close to the blanks I was filling in in my own head. I could just recall the panic that seemed to flood over me in one stark second before I passed out. He caught me, I knew that; probably because he didn’t want me damaged before he could have his way with me.
And now, here I was. I spread my hands out wide, running them over the soft, clean sheets beneath me. The cover that lay on top of me smelled sweetly of fresh laundry, and there was a small stream of light trickling in from the window next to the bed. I turned to look out of it; the sky was a blissful, beautiful blue beyond the glass, and any other day, I would have been more than happy to wake up to this kind of morning. But I could feel someone’s gaze on me, and I knew exactly who was watching.
There was a small noise across the room, and my head snapped around to locate the source. My stomach dropped when I saw Breaker, slumped into a chair opposite the bed. He had a drink in his hand, his arm dangling languidly over the edge of the seat as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
“You…” I trailed off. I wasn’t sure whether I meant to insult him or beg him for mercy. He was grinning over at me, his demeanor cool and collected, and I frowned. How long had he been watching me? How long had I been out? A terrible thought crossed my mind, and I pulled back the covers to look at myself—no, I was still fully dressed. Well, if you could call what I was wearing “dressed” in any way, shape, or form. Either way, the skimpy dress I had been forced into the night before was still intact. I found myself taken aback. The way they had treated me the night before, I would have assumed that a passed–out woman in a tight dress was considered an opportunity by most of the guys in there. Maybe Breaker wanted me to be awake, wanted me to remember every bit of it. I pulled the covers up tight around me, feeling violated under his stare. I didn’t like people watching me sleep. It was why I didn’t let any guys sleep over at mine if we were hooking up. I wanted to climb into a shower, get something to eat, and then curl up in bed in the giant, gross shirt I still slept in after all these years. Knowing that Breaker had been the first to watch me in a long time…ugh. He wasn’t exactly my first choice.
My tongue felt heavy in my mouth, but I finally managed to speak again.
“You motherfucker!” I snarled, and pushed back the covers to scramble over the bed towards him. I might have been half–naked, but I could still fight, and what better time to take him out then when he least expected it. He probably thought that I was still bleary from the drugs, but that’s where he was—
“Ow, fuck!” I reached the end of the bed and went to put my feet on the ground, but as soon as I did so, I found my knees buckling and giving out from underneath me. My head was screaming—I had never felt pain like that before in my life. I dropped to my knees and grasped my head in my hands, desperately trying to massage out the pinpricks of white–hot agony that had appeared over what felt like every inch of my scalp. Before I knew it, Breaker was on the ground next to me, his drink forgotten.
“They gave you some pretty heavy stuff,” he remarked, tucking his hands beneath my armpits and pulling me upright. “You should sleep it off.”
“What, and let you watch me?” I snarled, wrenching myself out of his grasp at once. His hands were warm and gentle, and I was surprised at the care with which he moved me—as though he actually gave a shit. I pushed the thought from my head. This wasn’t the kind of situation where I could expect kindness, and I wasn’t going to imagine it where it wasn’t there.
“I was making sure you didn’t choke or something,” he shrugged. “Come on, get back into bed.”
I dived beneath the covers again, pulling them up and over my body to make sure he wasn’t getting a show. I didn’t care if he’d paid for me, if he felt like he was owed a show, he was going to have to put up with the fact that I planned to fight him at every turn. He shouldn’t have picked me to take home if he wanted someone easy.
“I’ll get you something to drink,” he suggested, and vanished for a moment out of the bedroom; I looked around, wishing that I was coherent enough to get out of bed and make a break for it while he was away. But every movement came with another stark reminder that I was fucked up beyond repair for the time being, and the only thing that would make me feel better was rest. I looked around the room—it seemed oddly impersonal, like a hotel, and I wondered if he actually lived here or if he simply rented out the place so he wouldn’t have to take the inebriated women he no doubt planned to bring back here too far.
He returned a few seconds later, and to my surprise, handed me a glass of orange juice. I sniffed it carefully before I took a grateful sip. There were a lot of things that it could have been spiked with which I wouldn’t have smelled, but at the same time, I was painfully thirsty. It was fresh, cold, and quenching. I felt better once it had been swallowed, chasing some of the fuzz off my tongue.
“Thanks,” I muttered. Maybe…maybe I had misread this situation? I mean, I knew that it still was pretty far from good, but perhaps there was something here. Maybe Breaker wasn’t the complete piece of shit jerk that I thought he was. I hated myself for even giving it the time of day—the thought spun around my head, and I tried to hold on to it, hold on to the ounce of hope that this wasn’t exactly what it seemed to be. I didn’t know why he had bothered to buy me, but maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t because he wanted to do unspeakable things to me.
But I had spent long enough as a cop to know, in my heart, that it didn’t work like that with guys like Breaker. He probably didn’t know the meaning of the word “selfless.” I doubted he’d done anything in his entire life that hadn’t directly benefitted him in some way. This was probably just another one of his sick fucking plots, and he was just playing a long game with me to get me feeling safe and sound before he pounced with something unthinkable. I eyed him suspiciously as I chugged the juice, and felt the intense pain in my head begin to recede slightly. I handed him the glass when I was done, and nodded in thanks. He flashed me a tight half–smile in acknowledgement, and took the glass away, dumping it on a sideboard at the other side of the room. He slumped back into his chair and observed me for a second; I forced myself upright, and met his gaze. And what came out of his mouth next confirmed to me that I was dealing with a world–class piece of shit.