His Curvy Obsession BWWM

Thirty Seven

THE CONTENT IS INTENDED FOR MATURE AUDIENCES. THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DEPICTIONS OR STRONG IMPLICATIONS OF THE FOLLOWING:

. RACISM

. VERBAL ABUSE

. SUICIDAL THOUGHT

“Doubt thou the stars are fire,

Doubt that the sun doth move,

Doubt truth to be a liar,

But never doubt I love.

-William Shakespeare ’

Chapter 37

Nathaniel stared at Angelina's fists, clenched tightly as her body shook; her nose was red as she sniffed. She was being closed off again when he'd successfully made her get comfortable with him, but what happened?

"I enjoyed the meal," she said shakily, taking her purse and walking out without looking back. He didn't wait to be told twice before he abruptly locked Paul by his neck, pushing him against the wall roughly, imparting his back to the wall as he glared at him.

"What the fuck did you do?" he asked venomously as his body shook with rage, hatred brimming in his darkened orbs.

"Yo bro, I didn't do anything," Paul chuckled nervously, raising his hands in surrender but later coughed toward the ending when Nathaniel tightened his grip on his neck. Others were too shocked to say anything.

Nathaniel took a menacing step closer to him, bringing his mouth closer to his ear, "If I later found out that you guys did something—" he tsked darkly, "It won't end well for all of you," he muttered enough for others to hear, passing out the threat as Paul gulped in fear.

They should be fearful of him and know the controller. Just because they saved him did give them the right to abuse it.

He threw him on the ground, picking his car keys on the table before throwing a disgusting glance at them, then walked out to meet Angelina, who stood by the car with her hands rubbing her folded arms.

"I'm sorry," he didn't know what he was sorry for, but he thought he needed to say it. Whatever had happened inside when he went to pick up his call was something nasty.

Angelina looked at him when he opened the door for her, and she slipped in silently without muttering anything.

He closed the door, using his seat belt, igniting the car to life. He hated the silence; it was dreadful —Angelina didn't look at him. She was lost in her thoughts as she stared out the window.

I should have punched him to get it out of him, he thought, gripping the steering hard angrily as he ground his teeth together. But that would warrant his Angel to be alone outside, the rational part of him peeped in.

Occasionally, he would glance at Angelina, but there wasn't a response from her, and that made him feel like a failure.

"Look at her," The female began, staring at Angelina, "her face looks hideous," she giggled

"African people with black brains and hearts," a man threw her a disgusted look, "But imma says her big ass will be good in bed. Her squirting would fill a river and a very loud voice also," Paul added, staring at her with lust-filled eyes.

"Did you think Nathaniel married, or was it to show off?" Alex, the first man, asked, looking at his friend.

"Nathaniel can't marry someone like her, look at her—she's too plain to take an interest in— too dumb also. Look at how confused she is sitting down there alone."

"Look at that pendant," the lady pointed at Angelina's neck. Who had her head down, "It is too cheap, fake bronze— a real gold digger," she scowled, feeling jealousy running through her veins. She had been pining for Nathaniel for a while but backed off when Clara staked her claim on him, but she could give up again for a stranger- a foreigner, a brown person.