C2 PT. 2 (Patreon)

“What are you doing here?” she growled.

She let out an embarrassing yelp when he hooked her under the arms and hauled her out of bed like a kid rather than a grown woman. As he set her on her feet, she raised her hands to shove him away, but ended up grabbing hold of him to steady herself as her aches and pains became more pronounced. He cocked his head as he assessed her trembling form. She glared at him because it was all his fault.

He didn’t gloat. Instead, he picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. She didn’t fight. What was the use? He settled her on the ledge of the black marble tub and turned on the taps. He rolled up his sleeves to test the water before he strode out. He had always been a man of few words, but this was odd, even for him. Not that she wanted him to stay. She dipped her hand in the water and retracted it with a hiss. She adjusted the temperature to her preference before Roth reappeared. He set a tray of dishes and a teapot on a nearby stool before he shook out two pills from a bottle of aspirin and handed it to her. She accepted the medicine and downed it with orange juice before inspecting the heaping plate of English breakfast complete with beans, toast, tomatoes, mushrooms, sausage, eggs, and bacon. There was also a bowl of what she suspected was porridge.

“I can’t eat all of that,” she said.

“Eat what you can.”

He tested the water, frowned, and turned the cold water valve down to a trickle. She ground her teeth.

“What are you doing here, Roth?”

Obsidian eyes coasted over her naked body. She refused to cover up or be embarrassed. What was the point?

“You had a rough night,” he said.

Her cheeks flushed and then almost immediately cooled. “I’ve had many rough nights.”

“We’re going to fix that.”

She frowned. “Fix what?”

“Your rough nights.”

“Those nights are because of you!”

“I know.”

His unapologetic acknowledgment rekindled the dying embers of her temper. Before she could put him in check, he straightened. When he reached for her, she held up a hand in silent refusal. He ignored that and scooped her up. When he lowered her into the water, she immediately lurched for the taps and slapped his hand away when he tried to interfere.

“Why are you constantly trying to give me second-degree burns?”

“The water needs to be hot enough to—”

“Melt my skin off?” she finished testily as she broke out in goose pimples in response to the uncomfortably hot water. She stood next to the faucet as cold water gushed into the tub. When the temperature was bearable, she adjusted the taps again and cautiously sank into the waist deep water.

To her dismay, he crouched beside the tub, arms braced on the edge, eyeing her with an unblinking stare that unnerved her. She moved as far from him as she could and swished her hands through the water.

When she couldn’t take the silence any longer, she reminded him, “You have meetings to attend.”

“They’ve been rescheduled.”

That brought her bloodshot, wary hazel gaze back to him. “Why?”

“We didn’t finish our discussion last night.”

She tensed. “There’s nothing more to say.”

“I don’t agree.”

“I don’t want to fight anymore!”

“No fighting,” he said mildly as his fingertips glided over the choppy surface of the rising water. “At least not on my part.”

Her spine snapped as she straightened. “Oh, so I’m the problem?”

His eyes gleamed while his expression remained neutral. “I have a bruise on my shin.”

Her mouth dropped. “I can barely walk this morning, and you have the balls to bitch about a bruise from a kick?”

She gave into her temper. A second later, Roth shot to his feet, face dripping, with a large wet spot on his chest, making his shirt transparent. He wiped her bath water from his face and looked down at her. She glared back. He fucking deserved that and more… Her vengeful thoughts stuttered to a halt when he began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“I’m already wet. I might as well join you.”

“Don’t you dare!”

He paused in the act of tugging his shirt from his pants and reached into his back pocket. He pulled out his cell phone and stared at the screen for a moment before he looked at her.

“Are you going to be okay if I take this?”

She bristled. “I don’t need your help. I’ve been getting along just fine without—”

He leaned down and gently tugged on her hair. “No fighting,” he reminded her before he gave her a hard peck on the lips. “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t bother!” she sputtered at his retreating back. “I’ve been giving myself baths for three decades without your help. I don’t need you!”

He put his phone to his ear as he exited the bathroom and said, “Roth.”

“Roth,” she mimicked as she slid down the side of the tub, submerging herself to her chin in the steaming water.

What the hell was he playing at, canceling his meetings? He was supposed to be tying up loose ends, so they could return to New York. Instead, he was extending their trip to talk? Since when had Roth ever wanted to discuss anything? Never. And why was he coddling her as if he cared? Nothing about last night should have blipped on his radar. Her tears were nothing new. Neither were the accusations she hurled at him, the “violence” she doled out, or what took place in the shower. Yet, here he was, bringing her breakfast and attempting to be solicitous… aside from trying to finger her. Bastard.

She toed the taps off before she slipped beneath the surface. His tub was large enough that she didn’t feel claustrophobic, though the unrelieved black was a little eerie. She let the warm water soothe her raw, swollen face and tried to relax. That was an impossible feat, with Roth threatening to return at any moment and reopen Pandora’s box.

She wanted to scrub his confessions from her mind and move on as if nothing happened. Because nothing had. She didn’t trust what came out of his mouth—about the genesis of their relationship, her family, or his depiction of himself. He had fooled her one too many times. Discussing anything further would only inflict more damage, and she wasn’t sure she could take any more hits. She was battle fatigued—mental shields tattered and her energy at an all-time low. She needed sleep, food, a dark room, and her weighted blanket. Their first month together was filled with enough trauma to last her the rest of their arrangement.

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

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