I tell myself it’s the untruths that have me so pissed off all of the sudden. The audacity to lie right to my face, again and again.
But that’s not really it, is it? It’s not that she isn’t telling me the truth; it’s that I want her to, so f*****g badly.
I want to break her apart and see what makes her tick. No—I want her to beg me to do that. No, no, not that, either—I want her to show me voluntarily. That’s conquering of a sort, isn’t it? If she offered herself to me of her own free will, that’s winning, right?
Fucking hell. We’re barely a quarter of the way into this little probationary period and I’m already losing my goddamn mind.
Ten days. The number throbs in my skull like a bad hangover. It was supposed to be a speed bump at worst. Ten little days to turn a feisty brat into a s
