I Never Asked For This

Gabriel's POV

I sat on the edge of my sagging dorm mattress, a small, hysterical laugh bubbling up in my chest.

Tornadoes. That’s what Mike and Erica were. For a few minutes back at that dive bar, the world had felt loud and colorful and weirdly okay. I kept thinking about Erica screaming about her virginity to a room full of drunks. It was the first time I had laughed in… I don’t even know how long.

But the laughter died the second I looked at my phone. The screen was a cold, white glare in my dark room.

Come to the Miller house. Your brother is coming to pick you up.

My brother. The word felt like a mouthful of broken glass. I didn't have a brother. I had a bully who had spent a year turning my college experience into a survival horror game. And now my mom, the woman who was supposed to be my shield was hand delivering me to him like a sacrificial lamb.

"Please, just let me have ten minutes," I whispered to the empty walls. "Just ten minutes to be Gabriel before I have to be a Miller's punching bag."

I felt filthy. I felt like I could still taste the scotch, still feel the phantom pressure of Derek’s hands in my hair from earlier. I needed to wash it off. I needed to be clean before I stepped into that mansion.

I stripped down, my reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror making me wince. I was so thin, my ribs poking out like the hull of a wrecked ship.

My skin was pale, ghostly, and I had a faint purple mark on my jaw where Derek had squeezed me. I looked… fragile. Almost feminine. It was the thing Derek hated most about me. The thing Bradley used to call cute before he decided he would rather have someone with a billionaire’s last name.

I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water pelt my shoulders. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine I was anywhere else. Maybe in a studio in London. Maybe at a bar with Mike and Erica, actually agreeing to that crazy threesome just to feel something that wasn't fear.

Click.

The sound was faint, but against the spray of the water, it sounded like a thunderclap.

My heart stopped. I froze, the soap slipping from my shaking hands and hitting the tile with a wet thud.

"Who’s there?" I choked out. My voice was small, pathetic.

I didn't get an answer. Instead, the bathroom door creaked open. The steam swirled, and then a shadow blocked the light.

"You know, for someone moving into a mansion, you really live like a rat, Gabe."

The blood drained from my face. I scrambled to the back of the shower stall, my wet hair sticking to my forehead. I tried to pull the plastic curtain shut, but it snagged on the rings. I was standing there, dripping, completely exposed, while Derek Miller leaned against the doorframe like he was watching a boring movie.

"Derek! Get out! What are you... how did you get in here?"

He didn't move. He just twirled a silver key on his finger. A spare. "Hellooo? I am a Miller, Gabriel. My dad literally owns the majority shares in this school. Getting a master key to a scholarship kid’s dorm is easier than ordering a pizza."

He stepped inside the small bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The space felt tiny now.

Suffocating. He looked at me, his eyes roaming down my body with a slow, insulting heat.

I instinctively covered myself with my hands, my face burning with a shame so deep I wanted the floor to swallow me.

"Please... leave. I am showering. Just wait outside."

Derek let out a sharp, jagged laugh. He took a step closer, the smell of his expensive cologne cutting through the steam.

"What are you even hiding, Gabe? I have already seen it. And honestly?" He leaned in, his voice dropping to a cruel whisper. "With a little dick like that, you were never going to be a top in your life. You were born to be underneath someone."

The words felt like a slap. I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. I wanted to yell, to tell him to go to hell, but I just stood there, shivering under the lukewarm water.

"My dad is going to hate you," Derek continued, his gaze turning clinical, cold. "He likes men of substance. Men with iron in their blood. He hates weak, pretty little things that stutter and cry. You are going to be a stain on his perfect reputation. A feminine little freak."

"I never asked for this!" I found a tiny bit of voice, my chest heaving. "I don't want your dad’s money! I just want to go back to my life!"

"Your life is over," Derek snapped. "You couldn't stop your mum and that means you just signed the document for your endless suffering."

He reached out, his fingers tracing the edge of the shower curtain. Then, without breaking eye contact, he started unbuttoning his shirt.

My breath hitched. "What... what are you doing?"

He didn't answer. He just pulled the shirt off, tossing it onto the dirty linoleum floor. His chest was broad, his skin tanned, and the veins in his arms looked like a roadmap of pure, unadulterated power.

He looked like a Greek god, and standing there next to him, I felt like a piece of glass ready to shatter.

He reached for the buckle of his belt. Click. Slide.

The same sound from the dorm. My stomach did a sick, traitorous somersault.

"I am not waiting in the car for you to finish playing with yourself, Gabriel," Derek said, stepping toward the edge of the tub. "Since you love to share what's mine..... we might as well start with the water."