The Last Boss' Daughter

Ooookay, that’s what this is.

He wants to hurt me. He needs me to be hurt by this reveal.

He’s hurt by my interest in a man, finally—but not him. Why would it be him? But he would never consider that, obviously. I’m the asshole, I should love him; off with my head.

I even consider letting him think he’s got me. Oh no, my lover is using me! Woe is fucking me. Not like I’ve ever been used by a dickhead or two before.

In the end, I can’t. It goes against my nature to let him get one over on me, even if it’s just pretend.

Smiling faintly, I say, “So?”

His eyes about bulge out of his head. “What the fuck do you mean, so? He’s manipulating you. You’re a fucking pawn to him, a means to an end—”

I interrupt. “Well

, it sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, so I don’t know what you need me for. Who cares what his name is or how I met him or anything else? You seem to know all about what he’s capable of and what his motivations are. Me? I’m just a clueless little pawn.”

He’s pissed now, for real, so he grabs me and shoves me against the wall. “Did you know? Huh? D’you know he’s pulling some shit on your own goddamn husband? Your own goddamn family? Are you in on it?”

He’s not even making sense, but there’s no point trying to reason with him. Pain radiates through my elbow as he slams me against the wall again and it hits at just the right angle. He turns me until I’m belly-up against the wall and he crowds me, pushing his body against my back.

“You think that’s cute, huh? You think you’re making a fool out of me?”

I smile but he can’t see it so I laugh.

“What’s fucking funny?” he booms.

“That you imagine I actually think about you when I’m with him,” I taunt.

A low growl emanates from his throat and a lump of fear forms in mine, but fuck it. Hopelessness rears its ugly head, reminding me I’ll probably never even see Liam again, and what am I even doing all of this for?

At least I get a moment of pleasure at the sinking feeling I must’ve given Paul before his hands are suddenly bouncing my head off the wall, causing my vision to waver.

I push back, but I’m trying to get my vision oriented and it makes me vulnerable. He pushes me and I fall to my knees, only catching myself on one arm. Little white clouds of nothing have me all foggy, but I know the mechanics, so I rely on muscle memory to get back to my feet.

May have worked, if Paul wasn’t there to push me back down.

I’m still in pajama pants, and they’re easy for him to pull down.

“No,” I snap, grabbing them, pulling until they rip. Goddammit. I kick at him and he sits on my legs, creeping up my body, yanking his belt off. I’m not sure if he plans to fuck me or whip me with the belt, and I’m not even sure which outcome I prefer.

Well, none.

Gripped by an idea, I retreat.

“Paul, please.”

He likes that. Fucker likes me begging.

“Oh, yeah, you’re a big, bad bitch now, huh?” he taunts, tossing his belt aside with relish.

He thinks I’m relenting, begging, soft, so he isn’t as guarded as he should be, isn’t prepared for it when I twist as if in defense and suddenly bring my knee up. It’s not easy and I have to fight and scratch and kick like hell, but I manage to knee him in the junk. While he’s reacting, I bring my feet up and kick him off me.

“You little fucking cunt,” he screams, his voice high.

My heart hammers as I launch to my feet, catching my balance on the wall and bounding down the hall to the bedroom.

I look to the window, wishing Liam was out there. I want to be saved. I want help. I don’t want to have to do this alone.