Getting Paid to Be My Bully's Punching Bag

I remained outside the study as the conversation continued inside.

"Just pay Heath off and make him leave," Luther Stafford replied in an even tone.

Tristan Stafford clicked his tongue. "I've been doing this for years. I'm so used to it that I get restless when I can't see him cry."

"Then deal with it yourself," Luther said coolly. "Just don't let Brett Jamison come here and make a scene."

When their conversation seemed to end, I quietly made my way downstairs and sat stiffly on the couch.

I hoped Tristan would come downstairs, take pity on me, and finally let me leave with a generous payout.

But things didn't go as I had hoped.

Tristan did come downstairs and walk over to me. But instead of letting me leave, he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me into his lap.

He smiled as he tilted my chin up between his fingers. "Let's see. All the marks on you have disappeared."

I flinched without thinking.

I kept my head down, too afraid to look at him.

No matter how handsome Tristan was, I saw nothing but a cruel, terrifying man.

The thought made me curse him silently all over again.

Tristan lazily pinched my cheeks and kneaded them between his fingers.

It didn't take long for my cheeks to flush under his hands.

When he didn't say what I had been hoping to hear, I hesitated before asking, "I heard your family introduced you to a guy from a family of equal standing?"

His wandering hand suddenly stopped.

When I looked up, I found his dark eyes fixed on me. He wore a faint, knowing smile.

Then Tristan said, "So there really was someone eavesdropping outside the door."

I stared at him. "If you're going to be with him, then we—"

Tristan gripped the back of my neck, teasing me as he tightened his hold slightly.

Pain shot through me. I clawed at his hand, trying to pry it off.

But it was no use.

Tristan only stopped when a chilly voice rang out. "That's enough."

Luther stood on the stairs, watching us from above.

Tristan let go and affectionately brushed his nose against mine. "You never learn, do you? Why do you keep saying things I don't like to hear?"

He smiled at me, then patted my back to help me catch my breath.

I had no idea what had gotten into Tristan this time.

I bit my lower lip as tears spilled from the corners of my eyes.

He had controlled his grip just enough to keep me in that uncomfortable state, unable to escape the pain.

Tristan's phone rang.

He answered the call and casually wiped away my tears with a finger.

"What is it now, Brett?" he asked, his voice lifting playfully at the end.

A man's voice came clearly through the phone. "Where the hell are you? It's my birthday!"

Tristan paused, then smiled lazily and smoothly lied his way into an apology.

"Luther needed me at the office, so I got held up. Wait for me, Brett. I'm on my way."

I let out a deliberate sob, and the other end of the line fell silent.