Never Letting You Go

Chapter Fifteen

Damien

Was Elijah the guy she was thinking about when she touched herself? Was he her roommate only, or did they hook up occasionally?

Did she like him or love him? Was Elijah just one of many other men that she had relations with? Was I being pathetic and stupid for being this insanely jealous?

Yes.

That was obvious. I was being a fucking jackass, especially with how I yelled and spoke to her. she didn't even do anything wrong.

He was just standing there, but fuck, when I saw her with him, it made me fucking livid. I couldn't see straight through this fog of pure anger and jealousy that I wanted to knock that fucker out for even knowing Mila.

I wanted to confront her, to ask her if it was him that she thought of when she fucked her fingers next to me on that hotel bed. If he was the guy, she called Daddy when she came all over her fingers.

How could I even begin to ask her any of these questions when none of it was my fucking business? Mila wasn't mine, and I had no right, but fuck all of that reasonable crap.

She is mine, but she just didn't know it yet. She is mine in every sense of the word. Her body, mind, soul, and heart were all mine.

I hated that I yelled at her. I hated myself for feeling this possessiveness over Mila, but how do you stop liking someone that doesn't even know you like them?

How was I ever supposed to get over her when she didn't even have the slightest clue about how I felt? I wanted to be the man she thought of when she touched herself. I pressed the speaker button that reached her phone.

"You can go home now, Ms. Evans."

"But I never go home this early."

Anger recoiled inside of my gut. "Go home to your friend." I snarled, then removed my finger before she could speak.

I had no right to speak to her like this. I couldn't tell her to leave without a viable reason, yet I didn't care. I didn't care what I said, and I didn't care how she took it.

I was still angry from earlier and knew I wouldn't be over this for a while. It's better that Mila was out of my way before I really said or did something I would regret.

She needed to leave the office because I couldn't stand the sight of her knowing she was with someone that wasn't me. It was illogical.

Pure insanity, yet I couldn't find it to care one bit. I was playing the role of a jealous boyfriend. A role I had no goddamn right to play. We weren't dating, and she wasn't my girlfriend.

Try telling it to somebody who cares.

I couldn't focus on work. I couldn't focus on anything important because, right now, nothing mattered. Mila wasn't outside. Her face wouldn't be the last one I saw before I headed home.

Mila was too timid to be angry, and I knew she probably went home and cried. I knew I upset her, and I knew it was because of my foolhardiness. I couldn't even be professional or act my fucking age.

I was older than her; I should have had more control over how I treated her. She deserved an apology, and I didn't even know how I would give it to her or if she'd even show up to work tomorrow.

I tossed on my coat, shoved my keys and phone in my pocket, and turned off the lights as I stepped out. To my fucking surprise, Mila was still there at her desk working.

"I thought I told you to go home," I said indignantly.

She closed her laptop and stood up, placing her bag over her shoulder.