Page 31 of Shamed
God, he disgusts me. I want to tear that vile look off his face, claw at his eyes.
He scoffs. “Pot meet kettle.”
I jerk my head away, unable to keep looking into those rotten eyes. He’s a threat, yes, but right now, I don’t even care about my wellbeing. I would deserve whatever he does to me.
I’mthe monster who put Jacob away.
I’m no less guilty about destroying an innocent life.
I need to get Jacob out, free him somehow. And Dylan, he needs—
“Whatever you’re thinking, you can stop right now. It will be your word against mine. And let’s not forget, you’ve already blamed someone else. How will that look for you? No one will believe you ever again. In fact, you’ll be hated by more than just Jacob. Imagine how everyone will look at you. Not to mention the legal ramifications . . .”
Tears blur my eyes, but I don’t deserve to let them fall. I especially don’t want to cry in front ofhim.
“But just in case you need the extra incentive to keep quiet . . . if you so much as open your mouth about it, I will fuckingruinyour father.” My gaze flashes back to him. “His company. His livelihood. His family.Everything. I have my hands in every aspect of this business and his life, and with the click of my fingers”—his foul hand appears in front of my face to click his fingers for emphases—“poof. I’ve had years to plan for this.”
Whatever breath was in my lungs whooshes out of me, the crushing weight of my mistake pressing down with a force of a thousand-pound boulder.
I have no doubt that he could do that. I’ve seen the type of access my father has given him. The control. Hetrustshim. Has faith in him.
Those same fingers move to touch my face, and I flinch, bringing a twitch to his lips. “You know, I still remember the feel of your tight little cunt. Dry as fuck, but so tight.”
His fingers make contact and my body revolts. “Don’t touch me.”
“Relax. I wasn’t going to. Not that I didn’t thoroughly enjoy it the first time around.” Eyes shining with sadistic humor like this is fucking funny to him, he drops his hand and steps back, but not by much. “Damaged goods and all.”
Yeah, damaged, broken, messed-up, all because ofhim. Ihatehim.
But I’m also scared of him.
“Let me go,” I whisper, my fingers crawling along the wood to find the handle. I’m stuck here until he decides to move the hand still pressed against the door.
Every breath is dragged in through a tight throat and shrinking lungs.
He tsks. “Not until you agree to keep that fucking mouth of yours shut and keep this to yourself. It’s all in the past. You’ve already ruined one person’s life; don’t add the hundreds, or maybe it’s thousands, who work for your father, including him, to that list.”
Nausea fills my stomach, and it clenches tight. A myriad of thoughts and feelings rush through me.
What am I supposed to do? I can’t be responsible for destroying my father and all his employees. Ican’t. But I can’t let Jacob continue to suffer because of me, either.Dylanneeds to pay. Only, who would believe me? He’s like a son to my father, and everyone else thinks he’s great, a charming catch.
And like he said, it would be his word against mine.
Dylan’s hand shoots up to grip my neck, and I choke out a startled and petrified sound. “Fucking tell me you agree. Or should I go over to the laptop and press a few buttons?” His cold eyes drag down my body. “Maybe I’ll damage you a little more after all . . .”
His fingers press harder into my flesh, and I know he’s not messing around. He will do exactly what he threatened.
Hands shaking and heart thundering in my chest, I somehow manage to whisper through the constriction, “I won’t say anything. Please, let me go.”
Dylan’s eyes narrow and his grip tightens right before he releases me. “Good.” He smiles. “Glad we understand each other,princess.” Finally, he pushes away from the door and starts walking back to his desk. “But don’t test me, I’ll be watching.”
I don’t wait another second to fling his door open and rush out of there to find the nearest restroom. The second I’mbehind another closed door, a torturous sob tears from my chest, and I lean over the sink like I might empty my stomach.
Dylan.It was fuckingDylan.
He’s been working for my dad, right under everyone’s noses this whole time, and Jacob . . . poor Jacob has been rotting in prison. More sobs spill out, uncontrollably. I can’t seem to catch my breath.
I reach for the counter, my fingers turning white from my grip. I can’t . . . I can’t breathe. Clutching my chest, I back into the wall and bend forward, squeezing my eyes shut while I try to get my lungs to work.
