It just had to end.
He would stop hurting her.
Stop despising her for something she wasn't responsible for.
Stop punishing her for something she knew nothing about.
And after that...
He would find a way, would fucking die trying if that was what it took.
He would not stop until he was rid of his desire for Tahey, permanently.Chapter FourTahey only had her heart broken once. It was when she had learned the truth about Thomas, and the world she knew had instantly become revoltingly evil. Even now, the wound of her father's betrayal still hurt, and she had come to accept that it would always do so. What Thomas had done was unforgivable, and if she compared it to what Dmitry had done...
Her father was still the bigger asshole hands down, Tahey thought numbly, so why, dammit...why was she hurting like this? Why did the pain seem just as bad, so damn bad she found herself struggling just as hard not to give in to tears?
The billionaire owed her nothing. He had not made her any promises. He hadn't even done anything that could be categorized as remotely evil. He had simply let her know that he already had someone in her life...and rubbed salt in her wound while he was at it. Douchebag move, definitely, but it still wasn't evil.
Was it because she wasn't just infatuated with him?
Could she be hurting this much because she was in lo—-
Tahey was so horrified at the direction of her thoughts that she actually found herself shooting up to a sitting position in her bed, heart banging against her chest at an alarming rate.
She was not that.
To be that would be the height of insanity and idiocy, and surely even she had her limits when it came to being an idiot...right?
She fell back on her bed and stared at her ceiling.
Could she be that?
Tahey asked herself this over and over until she fell asleep in a state of exhaustion. A part of her had drowsily hoped that she would have her answer when she woke up, but when her alarm clock went off, she opened her eyes and realized two things.
She still didn't know if she was that.
And secondly...REGRET had never been a part of Dmitry's vocabulary. Instead of dwelling pointlessly on past mistakes, he would rather perceive them as a learning tool and act accordingly. Change what he should change, eliminate what no longer worked, and this he never hesitated to do, in both his work and personal life.
In the case of his secretary, however...
He tried to convince himself that it was not regret he was feeling even as he unceremoniously sent Rita packing...for good. But when he was alone in his bedroom and unable to make himself forget the look of dazed hurt on his secretary's face...
Cold showers and prolonged hours at the gym were usually enough to clear his mind for sleep, but this time none of it worked. Instead, he felt himself seething and on edge to the point of violence, and since he knew that agitation was a close kin of regret...
Why the fuck couldn't he make himself stop thinking about Tahey? He could have any woman in the world. Any woman, dammit. And yet it just had to be her that he found himself obsessing over. The one girl in this world that he had every right to despise.
In his desperation to exorcise his thoughts of her, he found himself grappling with the zipper of his pants with unusual clumsiness. He would jack off like he usually did, maybe keep doing it until he was completely spent and the thought of her would disgust him—-
But this time...
Dmitry stared at his semi-flaccid dick in disbelief.
What the fuck?
It was almost as if both his mind and body were rebelling against him, almost as if they had taken away his right to imagine himself fucking his secretary.
But that was fucking crazy.
He tried to get his dick up with furious strokes, but it remained unresponsive.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He knew this had to be purely psychological, but no fucking way was he going to consult a shrink about this. If he wanted his cock back, he first had to make things right with...
It was Monday again, and as soon as the reception doors slid open, Dmitry was stunned to see his secretary already inside his office, standing in her usual spot, and still waiting for him with a cup of coffee.
He hadn't really been certain he would see her again, and a conflicting mix of emotions had kept him from making the necessary inquiries to find out if she had turned in her resignation. Pride had something to do with it, but there were other messed-up factors. There was his sense of self-preservation, for one thing. If he had allowed himself to ask about her, then he might as well acknowledge she had become important to him.