Catherine’s POVThe rippling sounds of the shower continued as I laid still in the bed, feeling crudely unsatisfied, abandoned, and used; I felt worse than a whore, more like a hen ravaged by a cock in heat. Undignified. Not even a single touch, just a quick rump and it was over. But that's what you signed up for Catherine. He was explicitly clear with you; the arrogant demon was very clear; this is what you accepted.Fuck you Alexander Clifford! Fuck you for killing my fantasies; fuck you for making me feel this way; I scrambled to my feet with what was left of my dignity. I cringe at first when my feet touch the cold ground, convincing me to lay back in bed but I refuse. My dissatisfaction had transposed to rage, fierce rage and I could burn him if my eyes met him in this instant. I tiptoed, ignoring the warnings of the cold floor to fetch my dress, I wore it over my body as quickly as I could, timing the sound of the shower. I would kill him if I saw him, best I disappear while we

Alexander’s POVI struggle with the buttons on my shirt as I muttered curses under my breath at the mental picture of Richard Clifford. I had returned earlier than I was meant to, thanks to uncle Richard. He had thrown the first punch in this battle, I hope he was ready for how Alexander Clifford retaliates.“Hey baby” I hear Olivia Clarke’s scaly voice creep into my bedroom. I turn, and she is glowing in her little black dress. How did she know I needed her? I sigh, surrendering to her like she is water in a desert.“Who has gotten my baby so rumpled…huh?” She snakes her arms around my neck and I get filled with immense satisfaction. I inhale my usual dose of acceptance. With Oliva Clarke, I could be myself, my reckless, rugged self without a single care in the world.I draw her in so her relishing bosom grazes my chest. “Richard fucking Clifford thinks he can mess with me”“Oh dear…that fool, he has no idea who he is messing with….” Her finger begin a walk down my torso, her usua

Alexander’s POV I did not miss her neither had I questioned her absence all day. She had only popped up into my head for about five minutes at different intervals of the entire 24hours of the day and in all of those minutes, I had dismissed the thoughts of her decisively until now. Simon had just pulled into one of the designated gravel patches in expansive parking lawn of the Clifford Manor in the cold night after the sun had disappeared from the sky; the grass, lush and velvety under the moonlight. It wasn’t the flashing hazard lights that got my attention, neither was it his unusual swagger. It was her-Catherine Kent, bursting with giggles right next to his driver’s seat. Overhead them, from my bedroom balcony, my eyes narrow into the darkness, scrutinizing them as Simon gingerly headed to her side of the door, unfastening her seatbelt, carefully maneuvering her out of the car. He draped her unsteady body on one arm as he shuffled between shutting his door and keeping her on h

Alexander’s POV“Catherine Angel Kent!” I exclaim weakly, my eyes constricting with concentration and shock at what I believe to be the legible gothic-like writings of Catherine Kent.I am stunned, mortified, suspended in sky-scraping shock as my eyes make swift zigzag shifts over the brown pages of Catherine Kent’s diary. Pages upon pages of sex; wild, dangerous, and many impractical notes of sexual pleasure.My head spins, engaging my raging thoughts. No Angel could create such a book. This surely couldn’t belong to her but why would she have it in her possession anyway? Sitting there by her bedside, listening to her soft breaths and tossing about different thoughts on how to punish her for her wayward behavior, I had wandered into her night stand; I don’t know what I hoped to find, but seeing the latched black diary with with an aura of mystery; curiosity had propelled me to lift it while she laid unconscious.A knock invades the quietness of my study and the ruckus of my thoughts