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Home / Romance / HIS MUSE, HIS MADNESS / Chapter 11 - Chapter 17

All Chapters of HIS MUSE, HIS MADNESS: Chapter 11 - Chapter 17

17 Chapters

CHAPTER ELEVEN- The edge

|Thomas|I am every shade of irritated.And if I could get away with a crime, fuck knows, that skank's life would be painted in the misery my mind is conjuring right now — in all fucking honesty.The thoughts of hurting her had ridden my soul, wiping away sleep from my eyes every night after the stunt she pulled with my coffee days ago.And her pride and stubbornness have also skyrocketed with the lack of consequences.I grit my teeth, my neck muscles cramping, and I instinctively rub it with my right palm. A knock rasps on the door."Yes?" I call.The doorknob turns, and Mark strolls in, a clean smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You'd better have a reason for showing me your rotten teeth," I say, picking up a cigar and placing it on my lips."Sir, I've got good news!"Mark squeals like a girl, and I wince in disgust. Since I had threatened to fire him and force him to pay his wife's debt, he had been doing everything to get in my good

CHAPTER TWELVE- The Test

|Ever|Sunbeams creep through the cracks of the heavy drapery, dots narrowing on my face.Groaning, I slap the pillow over my face. I've been up all night, the elevator scene replaying on a loop—his voice, my body betraying me.I grit my teeth, already exhausted at the thought of facing him again.The faster I give his maniac father what he wants, the quicker I separate myself from their madness. But how? Time is running out. A week. That's all he gave me. The doorbell rings.And I drag my body off the bed, rubbing my eyes. Before I get to the door, my father is already there.He opens it, and the middle-aged housekeeper saunters in, her eyes lighting up brightly as they land on Dad. They linger, shifting the room from cozy to electrifying.I clear my throat, and my father jumps slightly, whirling around in his wheelchair to look at me. "Morning, sweetpea," he calls, a tiny discomfiture seeping from his voice."Good Morning, Dad, " I smil

CHAPTER THIRTEEN- The visit

|Ever|My heart races as I force a tight smile, walking away from the door to meet them.Thomas— my bastard boss, sitting across from my father on our fucking couch.It's supposed to be for family. For people I trust.Safe. Mine. Ours.I should have known he wouldn’t stop at my phone."I missed you at work today," Thomas' eyes bore into mine. He seems eerily calm— no, measured."You told me to take the day off," I tilt my head slightly as a quick, smug smile plays on my lips.The air between us feels crisp.And for a second, I catch a glimpse of anger in Thomas' eyes. "Ah," he nods, "it must have slipped my mind."My father chuckles. "Kids these days," he says fondly, shaking his head. "Always busy with one thing or the other."I force a laugh that feels like it tears something in my chest.But Thomas doesn't laugh. Instead, he studies the room. My eyes follow. His gaze drifts over the coffee table, a framed photo of me with braces in hig

CHAPTER FOURTEEN- The Game

|Thomas|I glance at Ever as we pull into the lot. She is pressing her spine into the passenger door, trying to hide it, but I can see the frantic, rabbit-fast pulse jumping at the base of her throat.Good.How stupid of her to think that her cheap little house and her oblivious, trusting father can keep me away.The corner of my mouth twitches.Art is born of humiliation.And today...I feel very artistic.Pressing a button, the engine stops, and I step out into the warm Cali sun. By the time I slam the door, Ever is scrambling out, clutching that ridiculous bag to her chest.I am already halfway into the soundstage entrance, leaving her to trail behind like my shadow. The moment I push through the heavy double doors, the once chaotic set halts, and every eye snaps to us. I ignore, strolling over to an empty chair. "Hey, baby," Amara Ross drawls in one of those annoying, rich bitch's voices. She struts toward me, her heels clicking loudly

CHAPTER FIFTEEN- The purge

|Ever|The clacking of Thomas' shoes fades in the distance, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. 'I promised your father.'The words bounce around my skullWhat? Did this bastard just reduce me to a desperate, breathing doll for his sick amusement?My fingers dig into the carpet as I force myself off the floor, venom pumping through my veins. My blood doesn't just run cold. It burns.First, he barges into my home.He ridicules my family.And now gets to degrade me?I grit my teeth, forcing my shaking legs to hold my weight.'Clean yourself up.'The echo of his command crawls up my spine.I drag the back of my hand across my eyes. The friction burns. The expensive makeup smears thickly across my cheeks, but I don't care.Oh, I hate him. I hate that smug, arrogant smirk, the way he looks at me, the lingering scent of his expensive cedarwood cologne trapped in the air...But mostly, I hate the wet, heavy ache low in my belly that proves my body betray

CHAPTER SIXTEEN- The Prey

|Ever|My fingers trace the cold metal of Thomas's phone again.I haven't let go of it since I dug it out of my bag last night. Not when the panic hit.Not when the memories crawled over my trembling body.Not even when I realized what I had done in that bed.I glance at the device, force my shoulders to drop, paste a fragile smile, and push my bedroom door open. "Morning, Dad," I greet, descending the stairs."Morning, sweet pea," Dad replies cheerfully from the kitchen table, not looking up from his newspaper.He looks paler than usual. "Dad?" I ask, my chest tightening, "Are you okay?"Dad looks up, lines of confusion etching on his face. "Why, yes. Just a little tired from the meds. That's all."A breath of relief escapes my lips.He's safe.Stepping toward the counter, my feet suddenly freeze. My heart leaps into my throat."Phew. You almost frightened me, Ms. Lisa."She doesn't move. She just stands at the sink.My eyes scan her posture. T

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN- The ghost

|Thomas|“Prey.”The word vibrates against the damp skin of her neck.Then, my fingers drift to the back of her neck. A groan slips from my throat.Her body shivers under my touch, shallow breaths slipping from her lips as I pull her gently against my chest.Our eyes meet. A sharp jolt drags me forward.I’m supposed to corner her, berate her, remind her who owns her—who owns the game—yet I can’t move.The second I stepped into this suffocating alley, that scent hit me—That cheap, synthetic floral scent again—It's maddening.I tilt my head, my lips, a wee inch away from her lush, supple parted lips. Just one taste. Just one—Two hands hit my chest, violently shoving me backward.“Don’t,” Ever gasps, stumbling away from me until her back hits the brick wall. Her chest heaves, her eyes a gleaming mix of terror and revulsion.“I-I’m sorry, I just… don't touch me.”A muscle ticks in my jaw. Her rejection hits like ice, snapping my broken ego back in

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