C2, PT. 1

Picks up the morning after the end of Bitter Secrets.

Jasmine struggled to surface. Her mind was cloudy, and her body felt as if she’d been run over by a truck. Her brows drew together as she registered that she was facedown in bed, arms tucked beneath her, head turned toward a bright source of light. She tried to open her eyes, but her lashes were stuck together. As she tried to clear the mental cobwebs, she pointed her toes down in a small stretch, and went rigid when her body telegraphed pain from multiple locations. What the…?

Crusty lashes parted a second before she registered the scent on the sheets. The bed smelled of them. Her mind lurched into gear, supplying a blow-by-blow of her most recent defeat. Roth used her hard. She would be feeling the aftereffects of that wild fuck for some time. Both of them lost control last night. He, physically, and she… The pillow beneath her cheek was still damp from her tears. Her hand balled into a fist. He made her beg. At least she made him bleed. That was her only consolation since he witnessed her break down.

She should have walked away instead of questioning him about Grayson. Experience warned her she’d lose if she engaged, and she did it anyway. She convinced herself that she went through a transformation in Berlin by taking charge of her inheritance and blocking him out of her consciousness. She thought she was becoming a true Hennessy with ice in her veins who could play the game as effectively as him. He shattered that belief by easily storming her defenses and reducing her to rubble. Not even her father, who tried his damndest to make her feel small and incompetent in her younger years, managed to devastate her the way Roth did with very little effort.

On their wedding night, he vowed to break her. Last night, he succeeded. He proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was pathetically susceptible to him. He could turn her body against her and take what she didn’t intend to offer. She wished she were anywhere else, so she could lick her wounds in peace and put herself back together with quiet dignity. Instead, the scent of her weakness smeared over the sheets clogged her nostrils and made her stomach writhe with enraged mortification.

She resented the sunshine that heralded another day. There was nowhere to run and no one to ask for help. For the first time, she wondered if she could endure three hundred and fifty-two more days of his relentless campaign on her mind and body. Her ideals and morals had been pulverized, and he was steadily chipping away at her soul. Soon, she would have nothing. She had no idea what she was getting into when she agreed to this marriage of convenience. No wonder Lyle questioned her sanity. She deluded herself into thinking she was older and wiser and could somehow beat Roth at his own game. That seemed ludicrous now. She felt like that desperate, naive college student again instead of a thirty-one-year-old multi-millionaire. Last night’s revelations lay so heavy on her, she couldn’t move. There were invisible hairline fractures all over her body. If he kept pushing, she was going to shatter.

What could she do? Even as the thought passed through her mind, she knew there was no out. If she welshed on their deal, Roth wouldn’t be satisfied dismantling her family’s company. He would go after her brothers-in-law and steal the legacies that belonged to her nieces and nephew. She was bound to a self-proclaimed monster who didn’t have a moral compass. He would do whatever he deemed necessary to gain control. That included bribery, charm, manipulation, blackmail, or brute force. She had no choice but to soldier on.

She turned from the light and let fresh tears seep into the pillow. She wouldn’t win in a one-on-one battle with him. He was too experienced in the art of war and armed with artillery specifically designed to inflict catastrophic damage. Retreat was her only option. She was done pitting her will against his. She would keep her distance, learn to take the blows, and protect her innermost self from being mauled for his amusement.

She let the silence soothe her. At least he was consistent. He made himself scarce during daylight hours, ignoring her existence in favor of expanding his empire. He tended to avoid the messy aftermath of emotional battles like the one they engaged in last night. That granted her the time she needed to put herself back together, repair her shields, and recuperate from another humiliating surrender in peace. As her mind replayed her worst moments, she let out a low moan.

“Princess?”

She stopped breathing. No, no, no. What the hell was he doing here? She didn’t hear him move, but she felt a whoosh of air on her bare back a second before his hand slid across her waist, making her bite the pillow to stop her involuntary shiver. It took extreme discipline to keep her body loose when every nerve-ending was screeching in alarm.

He buried his face in her tangled hair. “I know you’re awake.”

Her heart tripped. She didn’t want to talk to him, and she shouldn’t have to. The least he could do was give her time to recover before he launched another attack. She had no advantages—no warning that the enemy was close and no armor either. What happened to her damn robe? She focused on that insignificant detail instead of the coarse fingertips that trailed up her spine, causing her skin to prickle. When they retraced their steps down her back, her hands twisted in the sheets under the pillow. She just managed to stop herself from cursing when he palmed her butt.

“Playing possum?”

She stayed perfectly still and willed him to leave her be, but he wasn’t through toying with her. The grip on her ass disappeared as his fingers trailed lower and began to probe. Before he could penetrate, she gave up her ruse and rolled, dislodging his hand. She glared at him as he loomed over her. She felt like shit. Her body was aching, eyes nearly swollen shut, and she had to face this devil before she had time to feel human again. He looked as if he had been up for hours. He wore a fresh white dress shirt open at the throat, slacks, but no tie or jacket.

“What are you doing here?” she growled.

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

Copyright © 2024 Mia Knight. All Rights Reserved.

Some of the OG's will remember this scene. It's pretty similar to what I wrote from the beginning, though expanded with more inner monologue and emotion so we're solidly back in Jasmine's mindset.

The fact that he knows fingering her will make her give up the act always makes me laugh. He's such a guy. 🙄🤣