“What’s taking so long?” Daimon knocked and walked right in, not caring if I was ready.
I instantly moved back into the small alcove behind where I had dressed. Daimon searched for me and found me there. He let out a breath and smiled. “You look sensational.” I lowered my head after hearing his comment.
“I feel cold. Do you have anything that can cover me?” I asked, not moving.
“Like a shawl?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said meekly.
“I’ll call and get you one if you want,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“Addie, I’ll have to change unless you want to stay in here with me,” he teased.
“You’re right, sorry,” I said quietly as I picked up my things.
“Leave them. I’ll have them delivered to you tomorrow,” he said as he walked over to his black suit that hung on the other side. I dropped my things back on the small arm chair and headed out. I tried desperately to hide the scar, hoping he wouldn’t see it.
“Addie?” he called out and I froze. “You really do look good,” he said again. I said nothing and left him in his closet. I made my way to the seating area and sat down.
“Can I please have the shawl before we head out?” I asked loudly so he could hear me.
“Addie? What’s wrong with you?” he asked, now standing behind me wearing a crisp white shirt and black stain tie. He threw his suit jacket onto the couch I sat on and waited.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s never nothing with you. What is it?” He started to get angry. “What? You don’t like the dress I chose for you?” he bit out.
“No! That’s not it.” I tried to appease him.
“Then what?” he snapped.
“I love the dress, I love the shoes. I just need a shawl,” I said softly.
“Why? Why do you need it? I don’t want you to have it. I want everyone to see you, Addie,” he said exasperated. “So no, I'm not getting you a shawl.”
“Please or else I'm not going.”
“Are you serious? Like you’re in the position to say anything to me. I bought you. You do what I want.”
“Fine. You’re right. I'm sorry.”
Those fucking tears were about to come out again, but I took a deep breath and held them back. I slowly stood up and leisurely made my way to the window, which looked down at the city and the river. Daimon’s breath hitched. That’s when I heard him use his phone.
“Yes. I’ll need a shawl to go with the dress I bought today. Have it delivered to the same address. As soon as possible!” He then threw his phone onto the couch. “How did you get it?” he said quietly.
“You don’t get to ask,” I said grimly.
“Addie, tell me,” he gritted through his teeth.
I swung around and glared at him. “You may have bought me, Mr. Evans, but I don’t need to tell you anything. You can’t order me to. My life is my own. You couldn’t even get me a simple shawl without having me expose myself. Well now you see it, this hideous scar on my back. I know how I look, Mr. Evans. I see myself every damn day. I'm sorry, I'm damaged goods. So thank you for the fucking shawl, now I won’t embarrass you in front of your colleagues,” I shouted at him.
Daimon stood in his multi-million dollar bedroom. The sun slowly going down as a soft glow lit his room. Daimon’s electric blue eyes scrutinized my every move.
“I'm sorry, Addie,” he said softly as he made his way to me.
“No you’re not, Mr. Evans,” I fired back. “You’re never sorry, remember?”
I felt him coming closer to me, his mere presence overpowering me. I moved away, but he snatched my hand, pulled me to the window, and pushed me on it. My back was pressed onto the cold glass, making me shudder. He leaned in closer to me, wedging his leg between mine. I tried to fight him off, but he was stronger than me.
“I'm sorry,” he said again, his voice low and intense. I closed my eyes not able to look directly at him. “I'm fucking sorry, Addie. The scar isn’t hideous. You look beautiful,” Daimon said breathlessly. I opened my eyes as he held me there and stared at me. We both held onto each other, our breathing matching each other in slow rhythm as we looked in each other’s eyes. He gradually released me and I pushed him off. “The scar, Addie, just tell me,” he said in a serious tone.
“Why?” I bit out.
“Addie, for fuck’s sake, why can’t you just talk to me?” he shouted.
“Frank,” I said his name without thinking. The tiny little world I tried to keep to myself, the life I wanted Daimon not to be a part of, began to unravel.