Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Derrick: Damn straight.
Alina: Too bad. Did you think I wouldn't realize you're the one who got me that job offer from RenTech's graphic design division? You know the job doesn't count if I didn't earn it with my talent, and I know good and well I never sent them a copy of my portfolio. So you're the one who's been controlling my future, and I don't like it.
Derrick: Angel, you're mine. You belong with me.
Alina: I don't even know who you are.
Derrick: Come home, and I'll explain everything.
Alina: That's what you've been saying for the past month, and you haven't made a single move in that direction. So no, I won't be coming home. And, Derrick? Don't contact me again.
That's the final text from Alina, and every single part of my life turns gray after that. I feel hollowed out, empty, like there's nothing left for me to live for. I knew the moment I saw her that we were connected, that I was destined to love her.
And now the worst possible thing has happened. She's gone, and it's all because of the walls I've built, the secrets I've kept.
I'm not a quitter, though. I take that all-encompassing grayness and force it away, transforming it into iron, immovable willpower. Alina needs some space, and I'll give it to her—at least some of it. But not forever. She might not be coming back, but that’s okay. I’ll show her what it means to be loved by Derrick Anders. What it means to belong to me.
9
ALINA
Once my father picks me up from Derrick’s, the conversation becomes awkward and stilted.
"So, uh, who were you staying with? I thought you had second thoughts about living with me when I got back and you were nowhere to be found."
I’m too tired to come up with a good lie and too worried that my dad would try to contact Derrick, so I take the honest route. "A guy named Derrick. Derrick Anders. We were dating, and it just didn't work out."
The car jerks and Dad makes a shocked sound. "D-do you mean Derrick Anders, the millionaire? Isn’t he like…40? I heard rumors he was living around here but—"
My throat is tight, and I’m not sure I can handle a full confession, so I cut him off. "Yeah. So I'm ready to go home."
There’s a long pause. "Sure. Yeah. Let's go."
I can tell he has more questions but keeps them to himself—not without a significant amount of effort, though. When we get back to his house, where my little red Honda is still parked in the driveway, I quickly take my duffle bag and run upstairs, yelling some excuses behind me to Dad, who simply stands in the driveway looking stunned.
I collapse on the bed of the guest bedroom—my room, for however long I would stay in this house. I don't have a plan. Derrick doesn't try to call or text again after the first round of heated messages, and after a while, I have to turn off the notifications on my phone just so I don't have to wait so anxiously.
Every time it vibrates, I’m a split second away from giving in and calling him.
But I don’t. I can’t.
Derrick lied to me, kept things from me, and that's not okay.
But despite his lies, his overbearing attitude, I still want him.
Days pass and I barely notice.
Every single moment that we've spent apart has been miserable. It has given me time to really sort through my feelings, and there's a truth inside of me that I just can't shake. The lust and desire I feel for Derrick is something I've never doubted, but beneath it, there's something deeper. Something stronger.
I … I think I really am in love with him.
If he just told me the truth from the beginning, admitting to myself that I was in love would have been cause for celebration. Now, there's nothing but sadness and disappointment.
Dad has barely said anything since he found out that I was seeing a millionaire, and I can tell he's worried. "Alina, can we talk?"
We're at the dinner table, and I haven't touched any of the food on my plate. "Talk about what?"
Dad makes a frustrated noise, and when he speaks, I can hear the worry in his voice. "I'm not stupid, Alina. You don't want to tell me what happened with Derrick, and that's fine. But this isn't healthy. You're not eating. You barely get out of bed."
He's right. I've been stuck inside, thinking about everything that's happened. I miss the sunny morning walks, the evening dinners on the patio, Derrick’s smile when I compliment his cooking.
"What do you want me to say?" I'm not trying to be rude, but Dad sighs and pushes away his plate.
"I want you to do something, Alina. I'm not the best at showing affection, but I'm your dad, and I love you. If you're hurting, I want to help." My heart aches for him, for me, and for everything that's happening. I finally look up at him, and his eyes are rimmed red. He's worried about me.