Chapter 53

Chapter 53

When I come home, the whole apartment stinks like weed and pizza. Shoes that don’t belong to my boyfriend Timothy are scattered on the hallway floor.

Great, he has company…

I step over the shoes and into our living room, where the smell is even stronger, Timothy is sprawled across our small couch. with three of his friends, eyes half–closed, and an empty pizza box resting on the coffee table next to a glass pipe.

Are you serious?

Timothy…” I say quietly. He barely stirs, only letting out a lazy groan in response.

“Did you just smoke all day?” I ask, struggling to keep any sign of my emotional turmoil from showing in my voice.

“Babe..” He mumbles in response, not even bothering to look up at me.

I feel a sudden burst of irritation towards him. What does he do all day? He certainly isn’t working or contributing to our relationship in any meaningful way. Is this really the man I’m going to pick over the dragon–billionaire who looks like a supermodel? Timothy might be the safe option, but he didn’t even order enough pizza for me!

Putting my hands on my hips, I sigh and shake my head at the group of slack–eyed stoners. Timothy grunts and waves his hand vaguely in the direction of the fridge. “There’s some left in there.”

So, now I get to have cold pizza while he and his friends have devoured the hot, fresh one? Fantastic.

I want to yell, throw the cold pizza slice at his head, and tell him how much I deserve better than this. But it’s not like it would change anything. It wouldn’t make him suddenly put down the pipe, get a job, or turn into a grownup. Timothy is just. Timothy.

I realize that getting angry will not solve anything, so I walk past the stoners and enter our bedroom, locking the door behind me.

Tomorrow might be a better day

The next day, I wake up to Timothy swearing loudly inside the kitchen.

“What the hell?” he shouts, and I immediately jump out of bed, alarmed by his frustration. I rush to the kitchen, finding him stomping around like a child who’s lost his favorite toy.

“Timothy? What happened?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest as I lean against the doorframe. His bloodshot eyes flicker to me, and for the first time, I feel actual fear when he glares at me.

“Why didn’t you take care of the dishes yesterday?!”

“The dishes?” I ask incredulously, my own annoyance rising to the surface.

“Yes, why didn’t you? The apartment is disgusting! How could you ignore this mess!” he exclaims, his veins popping out of his forehead.

“Excuse me, but I wasn’t the one who decided to throw a party in our apartment for my stoner buddies!” I retort, my patience wearing thin. “If you and your friends can’t clean up after yourselves, maybe you shouldn’t be having parties in the first place.”

“Don’t fucking call them that!”

1/3

11:36 Sat, 27 Apr 0 t

Chapter 33

“What? Stoners? But that’s what you fucking arel You’re all over the age of thirty, unemployed and refusing to grow up while expecting me to act like your mom!”

Timothy’s jaw falls to the ground, but there is no time for me to feel smug. This is the first time I’ve lost my temper with him, and it’s a mistake. He moves in a flash, gripping my throat and pushing my smaller body up against the wall.

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that again,” he snarls, his eyes smoldering with anger. “Women should know their place!”

I can’t answer him. I’m close to choking and lift my hand to tap as his veiny arm, but Timothy doesn’t care.

His green eyes narrow and although I’m dying, the only thing I can focus on are the red freckles covering his sunburnt skin. He looks like a redneck, and with every passing second, his grip tightens further. I choke out a feeble cry, my vision starting to blur around the edges.

Just when I think this is it, he releases me abruptly. I tumble to the floor, gasping for breath, while Timothy’s harsh laughter echoes through the tiny apartment. He practically sneers at me as he exits the kitchen, pausing only to deliver a spiteful parting shot.

“I’m going out. Clean this mess when you’re done playing the victim.”

I think that’s it, but he adds, “Oh, and you better score that job at the hotel. We are behind on the rent and don’t even think about leaving. We both know I would find you.”

His voice is cold and emotionless. He has never treated me like this before…well, there have been a few times when he has. been violent, but… that’s normal, right?

No man is perfect, and the grass isn’t greener on the other side. A woman should just accept this. I mean, it could be worse, so much worse. People are living in poverty, for fuck’s sake!

I shouldn’t feel sorry for myself. This isn’t that bad. Yet, despite knowing my life isn’t THAT horrible, I can’t help but wonder what kind of life I am living.

Is it supposed to be like this?

My pity party stops, and I decide to do something with my life. Henrik might not hire me, so I better send my resume to a few other companies as well. I dust myself off and head to my laptop. The screen flickers to life, and I start updating my CV, pausing when I notice there’s a new email in my inbox.

It’s from Jessie, the woman who interviewed me yesterday for the position of becoming Henrik’s assistant.

The subject reads, “Urgent! Open Immediately!” My heart skips a beat as I click to open it, the words blaring at me from the

Screen:

“Dear Ms. Ellis,

I am pleased to inform you that you’ve been selected for the position of Mr. Winter’s personal assistant. Your detail–oriented approach and proactive nature impressed us greatly during your interview. We hope that you can join our team as soon as possible. Please respond with your confirmation by the end of today.

Welcome to Wintercrest Industries.

Also, your bag and phone are in my office. You forgot them yesterday.

Best,

Jessica Pittman