C22, PT. 6

There was no one to blame for her current circumstances other than herself. What the fuck was wrong with her?

Her emotions raged, but she couldn’t allow them free rein. Not here, which was… where? She was so focused on Roth that she hadn’t even taken in the room. There was a hushed quiet about the place. Odd when every square inch of Trentham Mansion was swarming with people. Where was she?

She blinked rapidly to rid herself of the last of her tears and straightened, dabbing at her eyes before she looked around. Her heart skipped a beat. Everything she had seen from the entrance hall to the gold ballroom, was palatial and over the top, but this room was a drastic departure from the rest of the mansion.

She was in a gothic library, complete with stained-glass windows, oversized velvet armchairs, a dark ceiling mural, and a spiral staircase that led to a lower floor. There were glints of gold here and there, but mostly dark, gleaming wood. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling in books with imposing ladders that she wouldn’t be caught dead on.

She crossed to the spiral staircase and crept halfway down and saw a library that featured a long worktable with chairs around it. Clearly, a meeting place. Maybe Nathaniel brought them here, which is how Roth knew about it. Quickly, she retreated back to the upper floor, which was dark and cozy and filled to the brim with books.

She sniffled as she explored, marveling at the extent of their collection, before she started examining the spines, some of which were in different languages. There were books on ancient history, politics, architecture, art, law, economics, and a whole bookshelf dedicated to biographies. Non-fiction was all good and well when she needed information, but she refused to believe a library with such a haunting atmosphere wouldn’t have…

“Ah-hah!”

She stumbled upon the classics—Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, the Great Gatsby, Madame Bovary, Dracula, Moby Dick, Treasure Island. The worn leather spines of The Iliad and The Odyssey with gold lettering was too tempting to resist. She carefully eased the book from the shelf and gently let it fall open in her palms. It was a translation with English on one side and Greek on the other. Unable to resist, she leaned down, sniffed, and promptly sneezed. Thankfully, she turned her head aside in time so she didn’t ruin the page.

There were rows and rows of standing shelves. She could imagine getting lost in here. She knew without asking that this was Dahlia’s favorite part of the mansion. The cozy reading nooks and beautiful desk made her want to beg Sullivan to allow her to write here. In this environment, she could only imagine what would pour out of her.

Under other circumstances, she would have been content to browse for hours, perusing the books and taking in the paintings and tapestries, but reality kept intruding. Would Roth succeed in smoothing things over with Christoph Braun? If she apologized… She sighed and shook her head. She had to stop interfering.

She made her way back to the door they entered and sat in an armchair by the fireplace. The blanket of warmth eased her tense muscles. Absently, she touched her arm where Tucker grabbed her. It was definitely bruised. If he manhandled her in the middle of the ballroom, what would he do if he caught her alone? She eyed the door warily. How many others had vendettas against her that she knew nothing about? A few weeks ago, she told Mo she didn’t have any enemies and his response was, The fact that you believe that is why you need security. Lyle had been pleased to find out she was being shadowed everywhere she went. What else were they keeping from her?

She hadn’t known that Roth was going after Tucker Baldwin or that Cecil had launched a smear campaign against him. She thought Roth getting his revenge on her father’s business associates was risky. Little did she know, he was taking on a horde of the most rich and powerful men in the city. Had he bitten off more than he could chew? Is that why he’d become so cold and distant again? She plucked at her diamond necklace, wondering if they could return it.

Her eyes moved around the library before resting on a marble statue of a woman with a veil across her face. It was so realistic, each pleating was carved in exquisite detail. She could practically feel the breeze that tugged the veil taut over her features.

Her fingers nervously plucked her dress. Lyle thought everything that came from her father was tainted. Did that include her? She was definitely defective and damaged. She couldn’t maintain a relationship. The only true connection she made was with a man who was a mirror image of her emotionally unavailable, workaholic father.

She didn’t perform to his standards tonight. If he had no use for her sexually or socially, would he get rid of her? No, it was more likely he’d punish her first and then set her aside and continue to ignore her as he had for the past week until he had another use for her. If he thought he could punish her by degrading her the way he had during that brutal fuck, he had another thing coming. Exchanging power and roleplaying was titillating, but if that’s how he truly saw her—an object to use and discard like she was nothing… No.

When the door swung open, she straightened. She was on her feet before the man stepped into the room, but it wasn’t Roth who entered.

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Confessions. Please do not share or distribute.

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