Absolutely Not Normal Thoughts
923 Words
Chapter 10
“Who the f**k does he think he is?” Gloria threw her hands up, spinning toward the maid who was currently picking up the remains of the vase she had just smashed across the room.
“Ma’am, you should sit down. You might prick yourself if you keep pacing like that,” the maid said flatly, not even looking up at her.
“Sit down?” Gloria snapped. “He’s the crazy one! Who the hell doesn’t spit when they talk angrily? Who doesn't wake up with a bit of dried drool? Am I supposed to behave like some perfect statue and not a f*****g human being?”
She was shouting again now, chewing her nails hard enough to hurt.
“Maybe try speaking slowly,” the maid said with a tired sigh, finally standing straight to glare at her. “Then there won’t be spittle flying everywhere.”
Gloria froze. Slowly, she turned her head.
“What did you just say to me?”
“I’m sure you heard me clearly,” the maid replied, lifting a brow, she was finally done with Gloria's craziness.
“Oh, you’re fired,” Gloria snapped immediately, pointing at her.
“I work for Mr. Koshnov, not his one-night stand,” the maid scoffed, already going back to her broom and dustpan like Gloria didn’t exist.
“I’m his fiancée,” Gloria shot back, shoving her still stolen ringed finger into the woman’s face.
The maid didn’t even flinch. She swatted her hand away like it was annoying dust.
“It’ll only take a few weeks before your gold-digging ass is back on the streets where he picked you from,” she said coldly. “I’ve known Viktor since I was changing his diapers, and you’re just another one of his flings.”
“You did not just say that to me,” Gloria said quietly.
Then she grabbed the woman’s arm. And started dragging her out.
The maid struggled, but Gloria didn’t stop. She hauled her down the corridor and straight toward Viktor’s room.
She didn't knock, she shoved the door open and stormed inside, still dragging the maid behind her.
The scene inside made her stop completely.
Viktor was on top of a woman. Moving in a perfect synched thrust.
The woman’s leg was wrapped around his waist, and Gloria’s brain short-circuited for half a second trying to process what she was seeing.
Then her eyes betrayed her.
They dropped to his tense back, then trailed up his firm ripped shoulders, and his braced arms. Her gaze followed the line of his body without permission, landing briefly, and disastrously on the firm curve of his ass.
Gloria stared for one more second too long, before her eyes snapped upward like she’d been burned.
Behind her, the maid was smiling with satisfaction.
"No," Gloria turned on her heel and ran.
***
A writer is someone whose mind refuses to behave.
No matter how hard you try to shove an image into the back of your mental closet, your brain always finds the key again. Like it has tiny, stubborn fingers of its own, unlocking the door just to drag the image right back into the front of your thoughts where it absolutely does not belong.
And right now, Gloria’s brain was being malicious.
The image of Viktor kept replaying anyway; his back, his firm ass, the way his arm had flexed, and that annoyingly perfect movement that her brain had decided to label as “ the perfect thrust.”
How did she even know it was a perfect thrust? That was the real problem.
Get a grip, Gloria!
Her brain, unfortunately, was not listening. It liked the image and was refusing to unsee it.
“Get out of my head,” Gloria groaned, smacking a pillow repeatedly against her face.
It didn’t help.
There were about ten emotions in her head at once.
Rage was one of them. No idea why, but it was definitely there.
Disgust too… or at least she kept telling herself it was disgust. Easier that way.
And then there was the third one. The one she didn’t want to look at too closely because it was bitter, ugly and didn't make any sense.
She didn't want to believe it was jealousy. Why would she be jealous?
Jealous people liked the person in question. Jealous people cared.
And Gloria did not care about Viktor Koshnov. She hated him. She despised him, actually. She was not the type of person who developed Stockholm syndrome after being kidnapped and emotionally insulted on a daily basis.
Definitely not.
She grabbed her laptop from the side of the bed and started typing.
She typed for what felt like one or two hours, slipping so deep into it that the world faded out completely.
By the time she looked up again, a younger maid was standing by the door with a food cart. And she was already done with two chapters.
Who knew that seeing her captor’s naked back and very fine ass just out in the open would be what completely fried her brain and turned her into a writing machine?
Don’t think about it, please, Gloria was begging her brain now, bargaining with it like it had any intention of listening.
But Gloria didn’t control her mind. Her mind controlled her, and it wasn’t done messing with her yet.
I bet I could write ten chapters in a row if I ever saw his d**k—
She immediately grimaced at herself.
- Writer
