Brutal Heir (Billionaire Heirs #2)

Chapter 18

Sage

I wake up to silence and unfamiliar shadows in the corners. The room isn’t permeated with sweat, age, and the stale smell of cigarette smoke. It’s definitely not the dingy old trailer I’ve called home for the past few months. I blink a few times, trying to clear the fog from my brain.

The scent of wood and leather are mixed with the unmistakable fragrance of a man. Ezequiel. My blood’s rushing in my veins. I reach out to touch the cool softness of the bed sheets, hoping to find him lying next to me. My heart races as I look around the room, but he’s nowhere to be found. I’m alone.

My inner clock is off. I’m not sure how long I knocked out, but it feels like I might have slept through the night. My mind races to try to piece together the events of the previous night. Did he come to bed? Slowly, I sit up, to have the sheets fall away from my bare breasts. I bring the sheet up, covering myself, before my sleep-muddled brain realizes the cap sleeves on my nightie have slipped down to my shoulders. I pull the sheet away to find the bottom of the nightie up around my hips. Did I have restless sleep?

I have a vague memory of his hands roaming my body. Him kissing my shoulder… But that hasn’t happened…I think. As I try to steady my thoughts, I can feel his presence all around me. It’s his home, his room, and his bed. He’s left a mark on this place, and it’s impossible to ignore.

Memories flood back into my mind. The intense passion, the heat of his breath on my neck, and the desire that consumed me. Yesterday was something else. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. But, did that extend to last night?

I turn to get up, but my body protests, bringing me to a complete stop. I flinch at the stab of pain at my hips and the curve of my butt. I pause, taking a deep breath and allowing myself to take stock of every twinge and adjust before I have to move. To make matters worse, my body burns from the unfamiliar stretch of my inner muscles. He’s bigger than any man I’ve ever been with, and he gave me a run for my money.

I’ve never experienced a day like yesterday.

With a deep breath, I slide over to his side and swing my legs over the edge of the bed then manage to hobble for the first few steps. As I reach the door, I pause, listening for any sounds. I hear the faint humming noise of the air conditioner, but little else.

It’s weird not to hear someone snoring, coughing, or moving around. It’s something I’ve gotten used to with thin walls. This is absolute heaven.

I slowly turn the doorknob and push the door open, stepping into the dimly lit bathroom. I’m washing my hands when I finally hear noise. My reflection in the mirror confirms my hair’s a plastered mess. I quickly turn the water off and reach for the plush hand towel. Scooping my brush up from the top of my bag, I run it through my hair, doing the best I can so he doesn’t find me looking a mess.

There’s a knock on the door, firm, solid, like the man himself. My heart pounds. He came looking for me, and I’m still sore, even though it’s been hours since we were together. I’m just not used to being with a man any more.

“Sage.” His voice comes through the door.

“Just a minute.” I put the brush down. Did I happen to wake up when he left? No, the sheets were cool.

“Now.”

My eyes widen at the hard edge of his voice. “Okay.” I reach out and unlock the door, the sound of the bolt amplified in the silence. Taking a deep breath I open the door to join him in the bedroom. Only he’s at the door, blocking my way. He’s turned the lamp on so I can see the anger etched on his face. It startles me enough to bring me wide awake and alert.

“What are you on?” he asks point blank.

“I…” I shake my head. “No. I’m not.” I swallow hard. “I’m not on anything.”

“Don’t give me that shit.” His scowl grows darker. “There’s a difference between a heavy sleeper and a woman who doesn’t realize she’s being fucked.”

A gasp escapes me as the reality of what he said sinks into me. He had…he—we had sex? “But…” my brain goes blank. This is too much to process in the middle of the night.

“That’s what I thought.” He pushes past me, going straight to my bag. “I don’t want any shit in my house.”

I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm, but my mind races.

I’m at his heels, the blood rushing to my cheeks. “It’s not drugs,” I explain from beside his shoulder, my voice trembling. “I have a prescription.”

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t addicted to something.” He jerks my bag to the edge of the counter, finding the pill box at the top, next to my hairbrush.

“Ezequiel, please,” I beg, my voice shaking. “ It’s just my medication.”

He grabs the pillbox. “I need it to function.”

I’m going into a near panic.

He doesn’t respond, but I can tell he’s not convinced. His jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscles working. A knot forms in my stomach. This is not how I wanted things to go.

Ignoring my protests, he empties it into the toilet. I fold my arms under my breasts as he flushes it.

He doesn’t understand, doesn’t know what I’ve been through and how it changed my life. I’ve clawed my way to a semi-normal life, but I’m not sure I would have made it this far without help. It’s the reason I need the pills to function, to keep the demons at bay. I want to tell him, but the words stick in my throat.

My hands shake with frustration. Why can’t he just trust me? Why does he always assume the worst about me? I take a deep breath and try to stay calm.

The bathroom suddenly feels small and cramped, the tiles underfoot\ cold and slippery, and I have to hold onto the sink to keep my balance.

I look up at Ezequiel, hoping to see some sign of understanding. But all I see is anger and suspicion. I can’t take it anymore.

“Fine,” I say, my voice shaking with anger. “You don’t trust me? Then maybe it’s better if I just leave.”

I grab my bag from his hands and storm out of the bathroom, leaving Ezequiel standing there in silence.