luxury bathing suits

[Mark] Teacher's Pet (Chapter 52)

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“We’re there, baby.”

Mark’s soft voice tears me away from sleep. I open my eyes, plunged in partial darkness. I’m in a car…a taxi. I lift my head from Mark’s shoulder, I look up at him.

“Good?” He asks, kissing my forehead. I nod as the car comes to a halt. I’m exhausted. Mark kisses my cheek and shifts, making me sit up straight. The passenger door on my side opens, and I snap my head in its direction and spot long legs in black suit pants. A valet?

“Out you get.” He says, opening his door himself. I bring my tired legs out of the car and stand.

“Thank you.” I say to the valet, then quickly slap myself mentally for saying this.

“You’re welcome.” He flashes me a smile. Mark pays the taxi driver while a second valet heaves our luggage out of the truck. My valet joins his friend as they get our stuffs out of the car and Mark walks to my side as I stand, mesmerized in front of the huge building. It’s night, so they turned the lights on, and the old, castle-like building looks breathtaking. Hotel Carlton. Holy shit.

“It’s our hotel?” I ask him as he drapes his arm around me.

“Yes, baby.” He kisses my temple and  starts walking towards the huge doors. My feet get in action as I follow him.

“It’s luxurious.” I say, and my adjective mustn’t be well chosen because Mark snorts.

“You haven’t seen our suite.” He replies as we reach the doors. Two large black men are on each side, and then open the doors for us politely.

“Our suite?” I ask. Mark is too busy pushing me in, he doesn’t answer. I think he was playing anyway. The interior is even more luxurious. Everything is black, red, wood and gold. I feel dizzy around and this wealth. Seated behind a big red counter, the blond receptionist greets us.

Bonsoir, messieurs dames.” She smiles warmly.

Bonsoir. Réservation au nom de Mark Tuan.” Mark’s fluent French starts flowing naturally. He’s not really made long sentence in French since we arriver. Only a couple of Bonjour’s and Merci’s. The blond types on her computer and turns back to Mark.

Puis-je voir une pièce d'identité?” She asks. Mark fishes his wallet out of his back pocket and gives her his ID. She looks at it briefly. I notice she’s not swooning in front of my man. It’s refreshing.

Deux clés?” She asks.

“S'il vous plaît.” Mark replies. The woman stands, turns, grabs two keys and drops them on the counter.

Voilà, monsieur. Chambre 1505, mon collègue vas vous y enmener.” She says and waves towards a valet with our luggage on a carrier.

Merci, bonne soirée.” Mark says, taking the keys, and I understand we’re moving. I flash her a small smile and follow as the valet leads us to the elevator. It’s see through, like the one in Chucky. I look around once more, trying to absorb all this richness. I look like a stain with my pale blue sundress and my sandals. Mark is hot as usual in a navy blue shirt and pale chino pants.

“You speak very well.” I say to him. He smiles, widely, but doesn’t say anything. The elevator comes and we step in. The employee pushes the tenth floor button. I lean against Mark’s shoulder and sigh. I’m exhausted. We’ve been in the air for nearly thirteen hours, and we left LA at midnight so we’d arrive exhausted at night time in France. It worked, I need a good night of sleep.

“I thought you’d be more excited.” Mark mutters next to me. It’s true that I thought I’d be squealing, refusing to go to sleep and urging him to go out as soon as we arrived, but I’m too tired to do anything like this.

“I’m sorry, I’m just too tired.” I mumble.

“Don’t apologize. We’re going straight to bed, yeah?” He kissed my head.

“Yes.” I agree. “What time is it?”

Mark glances at his watch. He’s changed the hour on it?

“Half past ten.” He says. Oh, good. I’ll have a complete night of sleep and wake up in the morning, killing the jet lag for good. The door opens on a long, red corridor, with a red floor and a darker red carpet. It’s lighted by golden lamps between each doors.

Mark opens the door to our room, the Sylvie Testud room, and my jaw drops to the floor. The first thing I see is the living room. Yes, the living room. It’s all red and white and gold, with a coffee table and and two small armchairs. My feet wander inside, as I gawk mindlessly. It really is a suite! Fuck, fuck, shit! Behind the living room there is the actual bedroom, with a huge bed. The bedding is white and red, and the bed is really high, it raises to my hip. Holy shit. There is a dressing and a dressing table, all white and red. The bathroom though is only white, with a huge, really big shower, a double bowl sink and a huge mirror. Shit! Fuck! Retracing my steps, I join the living room again and open the curtains. A balcony! I open the huge doors and step outside. Once again a white coffee table and a red bench. It gives a breathtaking landscape. Oh my god! When I come back inside, Mark is watching me, a smug smile on his face, his hands loosely put in his pockets, his legs slightly spread.

“You’re completely over the top.” I sag against the door, kicking my sandals off. He is crazy.

“You like?” He asks me. If I like? I guess so, but it’s not me.

“It’s sumptuous, Mark, really, but not necessary.” I reply. He hits me with a big, dazzling smile and walks to me.

“I know.” He murmurs, circling his arms around me and lifting me, swinging me around. His smile and his good mood are infectious, so I push all those thoughts in the back of my mind. Putting me down, he kisses me tenderly, our tongues rolling, caressing, exploring. We hear someone clear his throat.

We snap our head towards the door and see the valet with our luggage on the floor. His face matches the decoration.

Çe sera tout.” Mark snaps, and though I don’t understand, I know he’s not tender with him. The man quickly exits, and Mark turns to me, smiling fondly.

“We’re in France.” He murmurs, pressing his lips on mine.

“Yes.” I whisper.

“Come, let’s go to bed. You’re wrecked.” He says, taking my hand and leading me to the huge bed.

“My pajamas.” I call after him. He turns and pulls me to him, his eyes smoldering.

“You’ll sleep naked.” He affirms. Oh, okay. He kisses me briefly and pulls away, grabbing the hem of my dress.

“I would have loved to crystallize this bed.” He says, dragging my dress up, and I help him by lifting my arms, and I am naked except for my panties. 

“But you’re tired, and so am I.” He adds, sliding my underwear down my legs. When he gets up he kisses me tenderly.

“Bed, now.” He orders, and I am only to willing to over. I climb on the bed and slide under the big covers. Damn, it’s really comfy. I drift away instantly.

I stretch under the covers, and it’s a long, liberating stretch. Oh fuuuuuuuuuck. I open my eyes and find our luxurious suite bathed in soft natural light. Mark is fast asleep next to me. We’re in France! Hopping off the bed I adventure myself naked in the living room. I open the curtains wide, not minding any eyes because we are on the last floor of this huge hotel that can’t be overlooked. Outside Lyon is already full of life, with its people and its buses like suppositories. It’s Lyon, It’s France. I bite my lower lip in excitement, and feel familiar arms curling around my naked body.

“Come back to bed.” Mark murmurs, nibbling at my earlobe. Mmmh…

“I can’t believe we’re really here.” I say, turning to face him. He looks glorious, in nothing but his boxers, his black hair messy, and his stubble light and defined.

“We are.” He murmurs before kissing me. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back, running my fingers in his hair.

“Because of you. Thank you.” I murmur against his lips and feel his smile. Bending, he clasps my thighs and throws me over his shoulder, probably carrying me back to the bed. I secure my hands on the small of his back, just above the waistline of his boxers, chuckling to myself. Yummy. I slide my hands in his boxers and cup his sweet little ass, feeling his muscles flex as he walks.

“Did you come to this hotel when you were with Olivia?” I ask him, squeezing his buns.

“Yes.” He replies. I tense. I wasn’t expecting this answer. How dare he bring me here?

“You slept in this room?” I ask, turning my head to look at his back.

“No. Not this room.” He answers simply before tossing me on the bed. I land and bounce on the trampoline mattress, and he crawls between my legs. I open my mouth to tell him how rude he’s being but he traps my mouth in his, pushing his tongue in my mouth without permission. I moan.

My tongue meeting his, I place my hands on his shoulders, caress his back, his nape before curling my fingers in his hair. I pull, making him groan in my mouth. He pulls away, leaving me breathless and wanting, and his lips are all over me, my face, my jaw, my neck, my collarbones. He trails his nose down between my breasts, then up again, his stubble rubbing against my nipple. I groan and writhe beneath him.

“I don’t know if it’s because you’re one year older now,” He says, trailing little bites all over my breasts. “But I can see your body changing.” He muses, licking me from the valley between my breasts to my throat. My hips buck involuntarily.

“These are growing up too.” He kisses each of my nipples, referring to my breasts. His lips head south, leaving butterfly kisses in their wake, and I’m tingling everywhere.

“Your hips are wider.” He muses against my skin. He latches at my scar above my hip, sucking and licking and biting.

“Please.” I moan, lifting my pelvis. He hums appreciatively, his hands caressing my thighs.

“You have fine, fine legs.” He compliments before kissing his way up to me. He takes my mouth once more, pressing his weight onto me, his erection straining against my intimacy.

“Oh, Mark.” I gasp, my hands sliding down his back into his boxers, grabbing his behind and hauling him close. I circle my hips against him, his hard on rubbing in all the right places.

“You like that?” He teases, matching my movements and my rhythm.

“Yes.” I moan, pulling him closer.

“Do you want to come like this?”

“I want you inside of me.” I plead. Mark stops and sits on his heels, pulling me up with him. He hauls me close, his arms firmly holding me close, both of his hand in my hair as he kisses me hard, subduing me with a merciless assault of his expert tongue. I kiss him back the better I can, my hands lost in his hair.

“Grab the headboard.” He orders before releasing me, and I obey, turning ad grabbing the headboard. I would arch my back but the little space he gives forces me to stay straight. After pulling his boxers down he grabs my hips and pulls me down so I’m practically sitting on him. Teasing my earlobe with his teeth, he flexes his hips and slowly drives inside of me, penetrating me partially.

“Mark.” I gasp. I feel so full, and he’s not all the way inside yet. I love the way he stretches me from the inside. I close my eyes and savour the sensation.

“More?” He asks in my ear, his voice tight and strained.

“Yes, please.” I whimper. He pulls me down some more and thrusts forward, driving deeper but still not all the way. I groan at the sensation, my breathing heaving. Unable to refrain myself, I lift myself up and slam back down onto him.

“Anh!” I moan as he fills me up completely, reaching deep.

“Fuck.” Mark hisses, his fingers digging in my skin. And I can’t stop myself, bewitched by the sweetness of the sensation, and I start circling my hips against him, finding an electrifying friction.

“That’s it, baby.” Mark says appreciatively, but remains immobile. I need him to move, make me feel more, control our rhythm, drive me crazy.

“Please.” I whimper, panting. I slow down my movements, trying to tempt him by my sensuality. “Please, move.”

His hips shake a little as he struggles to keep still. I groan out of frustration and pleasure and throw my head back against his shoulder.

“Pease, Mark.” I plead desperately, feeling the hotshots of pleasure stabbing me deep and already pushing me towards my release. I won’t last long, I need him. He moans into my ear and bites my earlobe, tugging hard with his teeth and sucking hard.

“Oh, please.” I groan, and I’m shaking with unwanted pleasure, my hips stuttering as I move them in small circles. Mark pants against me, his hot breath all over my neck.

“Yes, Abby.” He moans, accompanying my movements with his hands, guiding me as I grind against him. “Oh, god.” He grunts.

His hands find my breasts and my nipples, and he takes both of them between his fingers, twisting gently. Whimpering, I pick up pace, the sensations on my breasts mixing with the fire inside of me. He pinches them both, making me yelp.

It’s pleasure overload, and I have to stop moving, trying to canalize the pleasure.

“Don’t stop.” Mark groans, and I whine incoherently. I am literally shaking, because of the pleasure, but also because of the frustration and the need. I feel needy. I need him.

“Please, Mark, move.” I beg, and he tugs at my nipples in response. The sharp pleasure gets me going, and my hips start moving on their own again.

“Shit.” I curse under my breath. Mark’s hips stutter a hit and buck, but he manages to hold Mark. I know he feels the urge to thrusts, but he doesn’t. He has such control over his body, while I have none.

“Please, Mark.” I moan, squirming, writhing on him because of the hammering sensation between my thighs. “Please, move with me.”

“Are you close?” He rasps in my ear. Oh, god.

“Yes!” I cry, and his hands find my hips again.

“Hold on tight.” He orders, and I obey without a word, clinging to the headboard as he starts pounding inside of me.

“Yes!” I scream as he thrusts fast and hard, hammering, simply ravaging me. The speed, the friction, it’s perfectly intense and strong.

“So. Fucking. Beautiful.” He thrusts with a force and a violence that could have propelled me against the headboard if I wasn’t holding on so tight. He thrusts sharply and violently, no tenderness or sensuality, pure lust, pure sex, pure fuck.

“Come on, Abby!” He shouts, and I detonate around him, screaming my pleasure as I implode in a huge firework, my body roaring and bowing, surrendering, falling and falling in a spiral of pure ecstasy.

“Fuck!” Mark shouts as he finds his release, curling his arms around me, a hand around my throat and the other cupping my sex as he pins me against him, holding me close as he pours himself inside of me.

“Shit.” He whispers, gently circling his hips against me, caressing my clitoris and panting in my neck, easing both of us down from our highs.

He kisses me below my ear, down my neck and to my shoulder before lifting me off him. We fall down across the bed, my back to his front as we catch our breaths.

“I love waking up with you.” He says breathlessly.

“Surely has its advantages.” I giggle. Once my lungs function correctly, I roll on my side and curl myself against him.

“What are we doing today?” I ask him.

“We’ll walk around. See where our feet bring us.” He replies, throwing his leg over me.

“Sounds good.” I say before kissing me. He nips at my lower lip and tugs with his teeth.

“Shower, now, little lady.” He says before playfully slapping my naked behind.


We eat lunch on the Place des Terreaux and wander down the Cordeliers, looking through store glasses and watching people pass by. We enter a knick-kcnack store, or should I say even. It’s really big with tons and tons of useless stuff, I’m dazed, amazing. I wander aimlessly in the store and stop in front of a small figurine of a soccer player. This would be for Mark. Turning the little figurine I read the name. Lenov… Levdanv… Lindoski… Le-van-dow-ski. Isn’t he his favorite player?

“There you are!” Marks voice make me jump. He’s at the other end of the aisle, glaring at me. I ignore his scowl and walk to him.

“Look, there’s-”

“Why the fuck did you walk away without telling me?” He hisses down at me, glowering. I flinch, taken aback. Woah.

“Don’t get out of my sight, understand?” He demands, and I’m too shocked to sass him.

“I’m sorry.” I murmur.

“Understand?” He insists.


He visually relaxes and sighs, while I am petrified.

“What did you want to show me?” He asks quietly.

“Nothing.” I lie. Now I just want to get out of here.

His rancor forgotten, Mark takes my hand and leads me out of the store. I stare blankly at him, dazed and confused.

“Where do you want to go now?” He asks me, and I shrug. Right now, I want to go home, in LA, and bury my face in my pillow, but I’ll take his option.

“I want to take you shopping.” He says, his eye full of hope. I don’t have the energy to refuse.

“Okay.” I shrug, and his eyes and face light up like Christmas. He kisses my cheek and starts walking again.

“They built this huge mall recently. Alex says we can get there via boat.” He says, and he sounds excited, happy even, enough to make me crack a small smile.

“Alex? When will I meet him?” I ask him.

“Tomorrow.” He turns and winks at me.

Alex didn’t lie, we can go to the mall via boat. I stare out of the window of the cabin, mesmerized by the huge building afar.

“It’s called the Confluence.” Mark explains.“Because it’s built where the Rhône and the Saône become one.” He says.

This mall is amazingly big and full of different store. Except an Apple store and Sephora, there’s no store I know. Mark bring me to a shoe shop called André. Even though I’m not supposed to enjoy shopping with Mark, I fall in love with a pair of navy blue wedgies with fringes at the ankles.

Can you ask the price for me?” I ask Mark who is watching me try them on.

Elles sont à combien?” He asks the saleswoman.

Cinquante Euros.” She gushes. I roll my eyes openly.

“How much?” I ask Mark.

“Fifty Euros.” He translates.

“I’m buying them.” I pipe up.

“No, I pay.” He counters.

“No.” I argue. “I came with my own money.”

He leans over me and kisses my forehead.

“And you’re going to keep it.” He murmurs, before straightening his back and flashing his smile to his French admirer.

On les prend.” He snaps.

I’m scowling and sulking like a child when we walk out of the store, but Mark ignores me.

“Bea asked me to buy her a perfume.” I announce, entering a beauty store.

“That you can pay for it.” He says.

“Gee, thanks.” I roll my eyes.


Once we’ve bought Bea’s perfume, Mark stops in front of a jewelry. He looks at all the diamond rings and the bracelets.

“I want to buy you a watch.” He turns to me, making all of the hairs on the back of my neck stand.

“No.” I reply immediately. “No, please no.”

“You want to buy it yourself?” Now he’s scowling.

“No. I don’t want one.” I explain. “Can we look for something for you?”

“I’m good.” He snaps.

“I want a snack.” I propose, and he gives in.

“There’s a fabulous place across the hotel.” He says, taking my hand.


The Pain Chaud is crowded, and it’s already been five minutes Mark has been queueing. Right next to the cafe there is a men’s store. Glancing inside the cafe, I spot Mark in the queue, he’s still has a long time to wait. Collecting my shopping bags I get up from our place on the terrace and go the store, and as I had bet, they sell perfume. I come out of the store five minutes later, bumping into Mark.

“I told you not to go away!” He hisses, catching me before I fall on my behind. He’s fuming again.

“Sorry.” I murmur.

“Are you determined to give me a heart attack?” He lets me go and runs his hair in his hair, sign of exasperation. “I blink and you’re gone, it’s frightening.” He grumbles.

“Sorry.” I repeat. He sighs and takes my hand, leading me back to the cafe where our drinks and snacks are waiting. Mark nods towards my new shopping bag.

“It’s a men’s store.” He says.

“I bought a perfume for my dad.” I lie.

“Oh. Okay.” He says. He lifts his behind from his seat and leans in, pressing his lips on mine.

“I’m a little jumpy when we’re outside, I don’t want you to get lost.” He murmurs.

“I’ll stop, promise.” I reply, and he smiles to me.


“Got it.” I say, paying for our snacks before he can. He pulls of the biggest scowl I’ve ever seen.

“You have to be quick around here, old man.” I tease, and he grumbles something I don’t understand. He’s really pissed.

“You’ve been paying for everything from the beginning.” I say, but he doesn’t take my argument. I roll my eyes.

“Aren’t you tired to spend money on me. With this trip alone and the piano and the car you’re already around…” I pause and make quick calculations. We’re talking about something like one hundred fifty thousand dollars. I thought he only had a hundred thousand dollars.

“What?” Mark asks as he sees my expression.

“You said you only had a hundred thousand dollars.” I explain, his brow cease.

“The piano alone is over a hundred thousand dollars.” I explain, then it hits me like a train.

“You’re in the red.” I declare, horrified.

“I’m not.” He says simply, looking away. He thinks he can keep lying now?

“Don’t lie to me.” I mutter.

“I’m not lying.” He says confidently.

“But…” Is all I can say. He’s spent more than he could. He is in the red, he’s broke. Or..

“You lied again?” I ask him

“About what?” He replies.

“Your money. You lied?”

His eyes look away from mine. “Yes.” He confesses. Fuck! He lied to me again! He has more than a hundred thousand dollars, he’s richer than that! Fuck! Now, I’m furious. He earned all of this money because of his psycho ex girlfriend, and he’s spending everything on me.

“How much?” I hiss, well aware I’m radiating with anger.

“Let’s get out of here.” Mark proposes, not wanting to make me snap in the cafe. I’m nit moving, not until he’s told me.

“How much?” I repeat, glaring at him. Then I realize he’s probably going to tell me a number, but there will be no way I could be sure. He’s lied to me twice already.

“Whatever you tell me, it could be a lie.” I shake my head.

“Abby, baby.” He reaches out to take my hand, but I move it out of his reach.

“No, I don’t even want to know.” I hold my palms up, showing him how disgusting I find this.

“I didn’t want to upset you.” He explains. I shake my head, not wanting to hear his excuses. The mother fucker is rich, really rich. When I think about all he’s paid for, as if it was nothing.

“Olivia bought me a house.” He explains, and my ears threaten to bleed at the mention of her name.

“Stop.” I spit. He keeps his eyes down, nervously playing with his glass.

“A big house, in Calabasas.” He adds. A house in Calabasas? Oh, fuck this.

“I don’t want to hear this. Stop talking about this.” I raise my voice a little bit, determined to shut him up.

“Let’s go back to the hotel.” I mutter, getting up from my seat, forgetting about my shopping bags. Mark takes them and follows me out.

“I’m sorry, Abby.” He says once we’re about to cross the road to join our hotel. Now I’m even more disgusted with this place.

“I bet you are.” I mutter.

Bonjour.” The receptionist greets us with a warm smile. I don’t greet nor acknowledge her, too busy scowling.

Bonjour. Chambre 1505.” Mark replies to her. She gives us our cards and I stomp off to the elevator. Our journey up is silent, and I glare at Mark though he doesn’t look at me. He runs his hair through his floppy hair, and it falls down on his forehead.

“You need a haircut.” I mutter, and he turns to me.

“Do I?” He asks, his eyebrow raised though his hair is hiding them. I sigh, ending the discussion. I feel bad for being so mad, it’s not like it will change anything. It doesn’t change the fact that I love him, but he’s been impossible today and this is just too much.

“Abby.” Mark says once we’re in our suite. I turn to him.

“Kiss me.” He demands, his eyes as desperate as he’s sounding. I lean on my toes and peck his lips. He grabs me instantly.

“Kiss me like you mean it.” He says. I sigh, clasping his face in my hands, tilt my head to the side and press my lips up on his, my tongue caressing his lower lip. He snakes his arms around me and pulls me close as I kiss him, our tongues rolling against each other. When I pull away his eyes have softened.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He breathes, and my heart sinks a little.

“I know.” I reply not too convincingly. “I’ll be in the bathroom.” I mumble before leaving him. I need to be away from this man a moment.

While the hot water of the shower cascades over me, my thoughts bump into each other inside my head. I’m here, in France, in a luxurious suite in a sumptuous hotel, with my wealthy boyfriend. He’s probably a millionaire. If he sold that house in Calabasas, then he definitely is. The thought is sickening.

When I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around me, Mark opens the door, leaning against the doorframe. He crosses his arms over his chest and crosses his legs at his ankles.

“You’re still mad at me.” He declares. Fastening my towel, I turn to him.

“No, I’m not.” I lie. Sighing, he pushes himself away from the doorframe and walks to me, taking my face in his hands.

“Ask me and I’ll tell you exactly how much money I have. No more lying, I promise.” He says, plunging his deep brown eyes in the blue of mine.

“I don’t want to know.” I murmur. He sighs, giving me a small smile, and lowers his lips onto mine. He kisses me tenderly, lovingly, then he snakes his arms around me and pulls me against him, fingers tangling in my bun. He tugs gently, tilting my head back and dipping his tongue in my mouth. I steady my hands on his shoulders.

“Mark, I’ve just showered.” I protest against his lips, but he takes my mouth, his tongue exploring, claiming, possessing.

“I need to make sure we’re okay.” He murmurs, his lips mowing to my jaw and my neck.

“We are.” I sigh. He takes my mouth once more, more fervently, slightly aggressive, and he undoes my towel with a flick of his fingers, letting it pool on the floor. I gasp.

“Stop, Mark, not now.” I break away from him and pick up my towel from the floor, wrapping it around my body once more. Mark takes a step back, and when I rise, I don’t dare to look at him.

“I need some space.” I whisper.

“You’re still mad at me.” His answer is instantiate.

“No.” I lie. “I just need a moment for myself.”

“You’re leaving me?” He breathes, and all the anguish in his voice makes me look up at him. He looks frightened.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I snap, but he doesn’t relax. “I just need a small break.”

“A break?” He looks dumbfounded. I know he’s imagining the worst.

“I just want to grab some fresh air. Fifteen minutes. To think.” I explain.

“Without me.” He says. I almost roll my eyes.

“I’m not leaving you, Mark.” I reassure him.

“Fine, I’ll leave. Don’t go out.” He holds his palms up, indicating me not to move and strolls out of the bathroom, then out of the suite. I sag against the nearest wall. This is so going to be a fight, but I know I need this. I want to be away from him.

I dress into my panties and a camisole, wrapping me up in the satin robe provided by the hotel. I wander aimlessly in the suite, the luxury and the richness hitting me at each corner. Is that the life he wants me to live? Suites, birthday cars and classy restaurants. It all happened already, I was too blind to see it, but he’s locked me in this lifestyle without me noticing anything. I still feel his presence here. This suite represents too much. I walk to the living room to grab my magnetic card and get ready to go out when I notice it’s gone. I look everywhere, absolutely everywhere, and there’s no sign of my card. He must have taken it. He took it so I wouldn’t go out. The bastard! Even when I show him we’re not okay, he finds a way to make the situation even worse. This man is impossible. I am mad at him.

I hear the door of our suite being opened, and I know Mark is back. I glance at the clock: it’s quarter to eight. Yes been gone for almost two hours. He bumps into something.


I stand by the bed, my arms crossed over my chest, almost tapping my foot as I wait for him to enter. He walks aimlessly, sees me and freeze. He frowns, surely intrigued by the anger radiating from me.

“You took my key.” I state. He fishes the two magnetic cards out of his pocket and drops them on the dressing table.

“Yes, I did.” He replies coolly, unaffected by my ire.

“You locked me in like some kind of animal.” I mutter.

“You wanted me away.” He grumbles. There’s something in his attitude, there’s something off.

“I needed fresh air.” I counter.

“It’s hard enough to hear you don’t want me near you, I wasn’t going to let you run away and get lost in a city you don’t know.” He hisses at me through gritted teeth. I recoil.

“You’re drunk.” I whisper. He rolls his eyes.

“Give a man a break.” He mutters, kicking his shoes off.

“Where were you?” I ask.

“You wanted me away, Abigail. You don’t get to nag.” He spits, and I have to refrain a gasp. He’s been really harsh. I remain petrified.

“Do you want me to sleep on the floor or take another room?” He asks ironically, giving me a contemptuous look. My mouth falls open as I stare, wide-eyed at a man I don’t recognize. Now he’s just being mean and hurtful.

“Now you’re being unfair.” I whisper.

“I’d never ask for a break from you, Abigail.” He counters, his voice full of reproaches and venom.

His harsh words pin me down and all my blood drains from my face. I can’t believe he’s being so hurtful. He makes me feel miserable, which is not something I thought he could do. I want to look down at my feet shamefully but I don’t, not wanting to show him he’s hurting me. I want him to realize himself he’s been a real asshole, not him feeling bad because of my reaction. I think it works, because he closes his eyes and drops his head. He pinches the bridge of his nose and puff his cheeks while sighing.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” He declares before strolling to the bathroom without giving me a single glance. When he closes the door behind him it feels like he’s finished building a wall between us, and I feel excluded, unwanted.

I feel the tears coming, the tears I’ve been holding back during the whole day, and I know this is going to be ugly. Not wanting him to find me crying when he comes out of the bathroom, I step on the balcony. I sit down on the red leather bench, hugging my knees and let my eyes get lost in the horizon, blocking everything, so there’s just me and the landscape.

I feel emotionally wrecked, and hurt. I don’t recognize this man, I don’t recognize my life. Yesterday I was still a normal teenage girl, and now I’m dating a millionaire who wants to dictate my life. It’s scary how fast it all happened. I’m shocked, and I’m not sure I can’t continue like this. I have mixed feelings. Today was awesome because he’s taken me to France, and made me discover Lyon, but he was impossible at the same time. From his barking orders to the fact that he lied to me, he really knew how to make me mad. And his harsh words, I’d never thought I’d see such a mean and hostile look in his eyes while he’s looking at me. He’s nothing like the sweet man I know. Suddenly I want to leave, I want to go home and forget about him, but I’m stuck here with him.

He said that to make me feel bad. He wanted to hurt me, and he succeeded. My heart ache with painful emotions, and tears start rushing down my cheeks. And I cry to myself, cry all the frustrating I’ve felt today, probably trying to cry out this whole situation. I break down, completely, lost in my shoulder shaking, lip trembling and hiccupping crying. I choke on my tears and cough, each tear bringing another. My crying starts to get messy and ugly, and I’m shaking violently, hiccuping like a kid, my nose running and my eyes constantly pouring. And I don’t stop, for minutes, maybe an hour or two.

The french doors swing open, and I snap my head in the direction of the room, finding Mark staring at me, in a black T-shirt and shorts. His face blanches, I am absolutely unable to stop crying.

“Shit.” He mutters, walking to me. “Merde, putain, Abby. Shit!” He curses, grabbing me by my arms and setting me on my feet. I wail, more tears falling out of my eyes as Mark drags me back inside the room. His presence only is enough to make me feel hurt and betrayed again. He’s heartless and mean. He’s the reason I feel so bad, it’s all his fault. I yank my arm free from his grip.

“Don’t touch me!” I shout. Mark freezes and stares at me for a moment, shocked and I complete lost, and a second later he’s charging forward, grabbing my upper arms again. No! His touch, his presence, his existence spark a fire of anger inside of me.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I yell, banging on his chest and swatting him away. He doesn’t budge and wraps his arms around me, imprisoning me so I can’t move. Tears or rage are rushing down my face. I am fuming with rage, I am furious, furious at him and everything he represents. I’m bordering on hysteria, hitting him, scratching him, yelling and crying.

“Fuck!” He curses and tackles me to the floor, laying his body on mine and trapping me. I let out a high-pitched scream. I don’t know what’s getting into me. I see red, it’s only rage, rage, pure rage.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby. It’s my fault.” Mark murmurs, his eyes pleading. He manages to get hold of  my wrists and pins them above my head. Fuck!

“No! No! No! No! No!” I shout, screwing my eyes shut. I struggle and fight him with all of my strength, all of my frustration, all of my pain, and my pain is huge.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry.” He breathes. “God, I’m sorry.”

I can barely hear him, I’m not listening. He wanted to hurt me, he wanted me to cry, it was intentional. All of this was intentional, that’s what he wants, me crying and yelling.

“I hate you!” I spit, pulling on my wrists and kicking my feet in the air. I try and try hard to free myself, but he’s too heavy. I don’t stop trying though, I’m furious and hurt.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” I scream as loud as I can, making my throat sore. And jump off the edge of hysteria, my brain disconnecting with reality, and my crazy, angry stunt turns into a panic attack.