Chapter 17

Elizabeth

I opened my eyes and saw that Charles had already woken and left his room. I knew he was an early riser; he must have gone downstairs to do some work or to exercise. I grabbed my robe and headed down and entered the kitchen. I went to turn on the coffee machine and noticed the note. I picked it up and read it slowly.

He was gone, and the boat would be there to pick me up shortly. His words were few, but he told me to take care and enjoy life. What? Seriously?

Sadness and disgust raced through me. He’s a fucking asshole. How could I have believed he would be anything but that?

I had known the situation when I’d signed up, but him… He didn’t have the balls to say good-bye? What a jerk. Crazy enough, I hated myself more than I hated him. I should have known better than to fall in love with him. My alpha male existed all right, but he’d slipped through my fingers. Most likely because I wasn’t good enough. I never had been.

“What a fucking coward,” I mumbled as I screwed up the note. “He has his toys and stuff, and he thinks that makes him a big man. We’ll fuck you, Charles. You’re nothing. You mean nothing.” Tears blurred my vision. My lies were stupid, and I felt like an idiot for saying them to the empty air around me. He did matter…a lot.

I read it again, and again. What went through his mind as he scribbled it, and why did he actually leave a note? Why did he not just leave and have someone wait for me? This confused me even more and made me even angrier inside.

I stormed back up the stairs and started to pack my things. I fumed at myself as I shoved my things into my bag. I was angry, and the thought that he had just used me as a little naïve slut for his enjoyment hit me. It was a moment of clarity. I realized that was the way I had acted. I had bent to his every whim and done things that were, at the end of the day, very fucking sluttish, especially considering he was a total stranger.

I went all dizzy and rested my hand on the bed. A feeling stirred deep in my stomach the more I thought about being his slave and his slut. The urge got the better of me, and I rushed to the toilet. I puked my guts up, and tears streamed from my eyes as the enormity of what we had done hit me. Nancy had been right all along. I had just totally fucking ignored it.

My stomach wretched, and I puked until all that remained was yellow bile. I felt sick, and I was disappointed with myself too. Yet I could not just wipe him from my mind. I turned on the shower and tried to wash away the weekend, but thoughts flooded back to me of the little moments when I had actually thought he’d cared.

The times he had scooped me into his strong arms and held me close. This was not how I had seen it going, especially after last night. It was all fucked up, and all because of one stupid little note.

I headed down to the beach for the last time and sat on the jetty while I waited for the boat to arrive. The whole time, I played back the weekend and tried to console myself and tell myself I had been justified in my actions. I even tried to use the Jaguar that would be waiting in the car lot as an excuse for my actions…my little slutty actions, but even that was not enough. The feelings were much deeper inside me.

I stared at the ocean and saw a speedboat arriving; at least I could leave this place behind me quickly and get back to the safety of home. It was Jonathan who slowly steered the boat to the jetty. Then he waved at me, but I had no fucking interest in waving to him, because he had known what would happen on the island. He was a part of it.

“Hi, Elizabeth. How are you?” he asked as he placed my things in the boat.

“You know exactly how I am, so cut the bullshit!” I replied.

We headed off across the ocean, back toward the harbor. The sun started to get lower as we neared home.

“I should open my mouth about this. It’s not right. I should tell everyone what he’s like,” I said in a pissed tone.

“That is not very wise, Elizabeth. You know you signed the NDA,” Jonathon said.

“Fuck the NDA. The story with the media would be stronger than that,” I replied as I raised my voice.

“Well, whatever you do, you should think wisely. Don’t forget the mess your dad is in and that Charles was serious about your dad’s job loss,” Jonathan said.

“Fuck my dad. I never asked to be a part of this,” I snarled. “It was forced upon me. I just helped an alcoholic out of a sticky mess. So much for one good turn deserves another. Look where that has fucking gotten me.”

“You do know it should not have gone like this. It was not planned,” Jonathan said as he faced me.

“You're just as fucking bad as he is! He’s a perverted piece of shit, and everyone should know it!” I shouted. “You must know what he gets up to behind closed doors. I’m going to speak to someone. I’m sure there will be someone who will want to pay attention to my story. I’ll tell everything. I’ll spill my guts on the whole thing.”

“It doesn’t work like that, unfortunately. Don’t forget, Charles has billions and more lawyers than you would want to come up against. Please save yourself the heartache and kill whatever you’re thinking of doing,” he said.

I decided to shut my mouth for the remainder of the trip, yet my mind turned the events over and over as I tried to make sense of it all. The sun was setting as we arrived back at pier twenty-one, and Jonathan moored the boat before we headed toward the parking lot.

“Here. Your dad said to give you these,” Jonathan said as he handed me some car keys.

I arrived in the parking lot, and there was the Jaguar convertible that Dad had promised me. I had to admit, the car was beautiful, yet it meant nothing now. It just seemed like transportation that had four wheels. After all, it was just a fucking car.

I threw my bag inside and got behind the wheel. I placed my hands on the steering wheel and burst into tears. What had I done so wrong? Had I been such a stupid girl who could not listen to anyone? And one too tempted by materialistic things? I had been blinded by everything that glittered, and now I felt like I had been blinded by love as well.

I drove home in tears and saw that the apartment light was on as I pulled into the parking lot. Nancy must be home. I got out of the car and slowly climbed the stairs to the apartment.

“Hi, Nanc...” I started to say as I entered. Seeing my dad sitting at the table made the words die.

The room smelled of stale bourbon, and he looked like shit. “Hi, Lizzy. Nice to see you home,” he said.

“Don’t you fucking dare speak to me!” I shouted.

“I just—”

I cut him off mid-sentence as I walked behind the kitchen counter, the anger building up inside me. And yes, it was all his fault; he had fucked everything up because of his stupidity and his drinking.

“Get out!” I said in a low voice.

“I want to make it right,” he replied.

I saw red. How the fuck could he make this right? Would he say “here’s some money” or what? God, my life had been turned upside down, and he wanted to try to make it right.

“Go on then. Explain, Dad. How do you propose to put your fucking mess right? Answer me that!” I shouted.

“Well, I-I—”

“You can’t. You have no way to make this right! You’re too busy staring at the bottom of a fucking bottle and fucking your job up in the process,” I snarled. “And now you have just gone and fucked my life up as well!”

I looked at him and saw that tears had started to well up in his eyes. He had been a broken man before, and now he was about to become a complete wreck.

“Lizzy, I love you,” he stuttered as he started to stand.

“Don’t you dare fucking say you love me. You ignored me and then came fucking begging. You knew all this would happen,” I shouted as I placed my hand on a mug.

Dad started to walk toward me, and I threw the first mug at him.

“Get out!” I shouted as I released the mug, which flew past his head and smashed into the wall.

He looked shocked. “But, Lizzy,” he said as he continued to approach.

I grabbed another mug and launched it in Dad’s direction. It was quickly followed by a couple of plates and dishes, each one wide of its intended target and finding a new home halfway up the wall, where it smashed into a myriad of pieces. The whole scene must have looked like a Greek wedding. Opa, motherfucker!

“Just fucking get out, and don’t come back,” I snarled as I rested my hands on the counter and cried.

“Lizzy…”

“Just fucking get out, and never come back,” I repeated as I pointed to the door. “Here. Have these while you’re here.”

Dad caught the keys and left the apartment as he sobbed. I could smell the faint whiff of bourbon on his breath, and he looked broken as he shuffled out the door.

I closed the door behind him and started to clean the mess on the floor. I still had thoughts running through my head. It was not even that my piece-of-shit dad had just sold his daughter’s ass as a sex toy to cover his damn debts.

That I could understand in a small way; it was self-preservation when your mind was fucked from having a drinking problem. It may have looked like a sensible idea. He had said he hadn’t known anything like this would happen, but he’d known.

Damn right he knew. How else could he be certain of wiping out some of his debt?

I finished clearing the carnage from the floor and dumped my ass on the couch. I rested my head back and closed my eyes. No, the problem was not that my dad had traded me for money. The problem was that I had fallen for Charles, the prick. Him having all the money in the world had not swayed my thoughts. I had forgotten about materialistic things when I’d been with him. He had teased and bent me and tried to break me into submission, yet I had felt safe; I had felt wanted. He was the first guy I even came close to wanting to be with.

Fuck, I had been dumb the whole way through. I should have listened to Nancy and Chip. They had been right. I should have listened to myself. I had known I’d had doubts, yet I had just ignored them and thought of the prize at the end. I’d had no idea I would fall for him. That had never been on the table.

While I felt cheated, I knew it was all wrong, and yet there was some feeling deep inside me that said it was also all right. Why do I feel cheated?

The more I thought about it, the more confused I got. I decided not to analyze it anymore; it would drive me insane. Yet I was insane anyway. I missed him. Shit. I’m addicted. I thought of him even when I was trying to forget about him. It was not just my head that started to hurt. My body ached. It was indeed like I was on drugs…

I wanted to feel him, and I wanted to please him. I even ran what we had done through my mind, the dinner where he had pleased me when he’d spanked me over his knee. Charles had made me come so many times. My body had been running on orgasms, and now, after one little fucking piece of paper and a few simple words, I was now running on empty.

I was addicted. I knew that for sure. But how could I put myself through emotional rehab? How the hell could I do that? I pictured myself at group therapy sessions.

“Hi. My name is Lizzy, and I’m addicted to Charles,” I imagined myself saying.

The guidance counselor would say, “Sorry, Lizzy. There is no hope for you. Just accept the fact. You are a hopeless addict, and Charles is your medication.”

I reached into my pocket and felt the piece of paper. I pulled out the crumpled note he had left me. I sat at the table and smoothed out the wrinkles.

I looked at the note again and read it slowly, trying to make sense of every single word. I had learned a lesson for sure: Never mess with a prick like Charles. Yet, there was something about the note that just niggled at me. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first, but then it hit me. It stared me right in the face. It had been there all along, and I had not noticed.

Why, oh, why did he call me princess?