CHAPTER 24: Suffocation
1009 Words
Nirvana's POV
The silence in the dining room was so heavy it actually made my ears itchy. I sat at the long dining table and stared blankly down at my untouched food. My appetite was totally gone, replaced by a tight, burning knot right in my chest.
Adrian sat directly across from me, wearing a tailored suit and a crisp white shirt. He was looking exactly the way he did when he stood behind his imposing podium at the university.
In one hand he held the morning newspaper, and in the other, a cup of steaming black coffee, looking as dashingly hot as ever.
He did not look up when I walked into the room. He did not even offer a simple greeting. He simply turned the page of his paper with a sharp rustle and took another slow sip of his coffee. He was a master of emotional detachment, I must admit.
I kept waiting for the cold facade to drop. I kept waiting for him to lower the newspaper, to meet my eyes or give me some sort of silent reassurance that the intimacy we shared in the garage last night had actually happened. I needed to know I wasn't losing my mind.
I needed him to acknowledge me. I needed him to show just a possessive emotion he displayed when he shoved me behind him and drew his heavy weapon to protect me from the stalker. I needed the man who had groaned my name in the dark.
But he gave me nothing. He was a blank wall of stone. He finished his coffee and folded the newspaper neatly before he stood up from the chair.
"I will see you later this evening, Ronan," Adrian said, his voice emotionless. He had directed his words to my brother who had just walked into the room to grab his own cup of coffee.
He picked up his briefcase from the chair next to him before he walked around the large table, heading straight for the hallway. He passed within inches of my chair.
I held my breath, waiting for him to brush his hand against my shoulder or even just glance down at me for a split second. But he walked right past me without breaking his stride. He treated me like a piece of invisible furniture.
The front door clicked shut a few seconds later.
A burning, bitter frustration settled in my chest. The total rejection made me feel invisible and it was driving me crazy.
I could handle his strict boundaries inside the classroom because we were surrounded by other students. But bringing that cold, distant routine into the house felt cruel. It felt like a punishment for giving into my desires. I felt suffocated.
I pushed my chair back abruptly, making its legs scrape against the floor. I stood up and ignored my brother's questioning look.
"I want to go home," I crossed my arms over my chest. "I want to pack my things today and move back to our penthouse. To our actual home."
Ronan sighed, setting his coffee cup down. He pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned his hips against the edge of the dining table. "We have already talked about this, Nirvana. You are staying right here."
"I hate being a guest in someone else's house," I argued. I raised my voice just enough to show him I was serious. "I hate living out of a suitcase. I miss my own bedroom. I miss my own space. Coming here was supposed to be a temporary arrangement. It has been weeks, Ronan. I want to leave."
I could not tell him the actual reason. I could not tell him that sharing a living space with his best friend was tearing my nerves apart.
I could not explain that Adrian's sudden indifference was hurting me more than any injury ever could. I felt like I was drowning every time I looked at him.
I just needed to put distance between Adrian and me so I could finally force myself to forget the taste of his mouth and the heat of his hands.
"The penthouse is still undergoing renovations," Ronan lied smoothly. His face was a perfect mask of calm but I knew he was lying. There were no renovations.
"Then put me in a hotel," I demanded, stepping closer to him. "Or rent an apartment near the university. I do not care where I go, Ronan, I just want to leave this place."
Ronan dropped his hands to his sides and looked at me with a harsh expression. "You are not going to a hotel, and you are not moving into an apartment by yourself. You are staying here under my supervision. End of."
"End of what?" I shot back, the frustration boiling over. "I live in New York City. I take the subway. I walk across a campus with three thousand other people every single day. I am not some high-profile target who needs to be locked away behind a ten-foot iron gate."
"You do not know what you are talking about," Ronan warned. His tone dropped into that dark, authoritative register he used when he expected absolute, unquestioning obedience. "There are things happening in the city right now that you do not need to be involved in. This house is secure. I cannot protect you if you are living in a random apartment building downtown."
"I do not need you to protect me from everything," I said, feeling the sharp sting of tears threatening my eyes. "I am an adult, Ronan. I just need some space to breathe."
"The discussion is over, Nirvana," Ronan finalized, shutting down the argument. He pulled his phone from his pocket and swiped the screen. "Get your bag. The driver is waiting out front to take you to your morning classes."
I turned around and walked out of the room without another word. I felt trapped. I was stuck in a house with my overbearing brother and a man who refused to acknowledge my existence.
- Writer
