Fated To Three, And I Broke Them All novel Chapter 17

Chapter 17: 17-He Is Undressing In Front Of Me

Verity:

I was supposed to be avenging my brother, yet nothing seemed capable of getting through Ragnar’s walls.

He felt impossible to reach.

Like some enormous fortress built to hide whatever monster lived inside him.

"What exactly did you mean by saying I threw myself at you?" I finally snapped, unable to hold it in anymore.

Ragnar kept walking as if he had not heard me.

"Excuse me, I’m talking to you," I hissed, struggling to keep up with his pace.

The annoying part was that he was not even walking fast.

His strides were just ridiculously long compared to mine, forcing me to hurry after him in heels.

"You were the one who grabbed me," I argued breathlessly. "I never asked you to save me. So how the hell did I throw myself at you?"

The more he ignored me, the louder my voice became.

Or maybe I was only getting brave because he still had not reacted.

"Don’t make me regret helping you."

That quiet warning immediately slowed my steps.

"I want you to take it back," I muttered stubbornly, stopping in place and waiting for him to stop too.

He didn’t.

Not even for a second.

Suppressing my irritation, I dragged my bag after him again, half jogging to avoid tripping over my heels.

When I finally reached his side, I glared up at him.

"I want you to take those words back," I said firmly. "That was incredibly insulting."

Then I stopped once more, fully expecting him to finally acknowledge me.

He kept walking.

After that, I couldn’t even force myself to speak.

I stood there for a moment, watching him continue forward without slowing down.

When it became obvious he wasn’t going to stop, I let out a sigh.

My shoulders sagged, and I reluctantly followed after him.

I didn’t know what kind of man he was, but one thing was certain, he was insane.

Cold and unsettling.

That was when it hit me. It must have been frighteningly easy to betray my brother.

To hurt him. Nothing seemed capable of affecting this man.

Not a bead of sweat.

Not a trace of remorse.

After everything he had done to my innocent brother, he looked completely unaffected.

I trailed behind him in silence, feeling powerless.

He knew I couldn’t do anything to him, and the fact that he knew it only made me angrier.

Eventually, the motel appeared ahead of us.

Honestly, every part of me wanted to stop right there.

The place looked like something straight out of a haunted house, but Ragnar, being Ragnar, didn’t spare it a second glance.

He walked into the large, barely lit building as though there was nothing unusual about it.

I quickly caught up to him, falling into step beside him.

"Do you think it’ll be safe for us to stay here tonight?" I asked, scanning the surroundings nervously.

He didn’t answer. By the time he reached the counter, he was already acting as though I wasn’t there.

An old man sat behind the desk, absorbed in a newspaper that looked decades old.

The pages had faded to a yellowish color, worn down by time and use.

I couldn’t help wondering why he was still reading it.

Didn’t he have anything newer?

More importantly, what was going on in this place?

It was the most authority Ragnar had ever used with me, and the embarrassment hit almost instantly.

I guess I had been pushing my luck.

The motel manager slowly withdrew his hand, revealing a key resting in his palm.

Ragnar made no move to take it, so I stepped forward and picked it up myself.

After a brief silence, Ragnar paid for the room in advance.

Then he started walking toward it without saying a word to me.

He didn’t even bother asking for the key.

A few minutes later, we reached the room on the second floor.

The motel had an old-fashioned feel to it, though it wasn’t particularly dirty.

Everything was well furnished, just in a black and white style.

Ragnar stopped in front of the door, leaving me to step forward and unlock it for him.

Of course, I was his secretary.

Apparently, that meant handling every little task he couldn’t be bothered with.

He couldn’t even turn the key himself.

The second shock came when I realized there was only one bed in the room.

The only other piece of furniture was a tiny couch, and Ragnar’s bag was already taking up most of it.

He quickly moved the bag onto a chair, careful not to let it touch the floor.

Then he walked away and began undressing as if I wasn’t even there.

My heart started pounding against my ribs.

I knew what I was supposed to do.

I was supposed to take revenge on him.

Use my sexuality, use my body, draw him in, and make him mine to control.

So why was it that, now that we were alone in a cramped room, I couldn’t even bring myself to watch him undress?