One Weekend with the Billionaire novel Chapter 54

I try to busy myself with the same sort of activities that have been keeping me busy for the last two years, but it’s hard because I have absolutely no motivation to do any of them anymore. In the past, at least I got some pleasure out of doing my best to be a good wife to Jeff. Now, I know it doesn’t matter whether I am a good wife to him or not. He doesn’t appreciate me. Nothing I do can make him appreciate me, and I’m not sure I even want to be appreciated by him.

I wonder how much will really change from all of this, assuming I stay here. This morning, he asked me if I wanted to have sex instead of just taking it, instead of just using my body as a play thing and then discarding it, discarding me. He might do that again tomorrow morning, maybe the day after that. But this is Jeff I’m thinking of, and I know it won’t last. He will not be able to stop himself from going back to his old ways. Before long, he will simply stop asking and start taking again.

Then what? Will I just roll over and take it, the way that I always have in the past? Will I be content to be his toy again? I hated it before. I will most certainly hate it even more when it starts happening again. Before, in my mind, I could justify it the same way that I did doing the dishes or the laundry. It was part of my duties. If Jeff wanted to have sex, I’d have sex, even though it did absolutely nothing for me, and he never even seemed to notice that I didn’t care.

But… now things are different. I can no longer be the only giver in this relationship. I cannot sustain myself and Jeff based on pure duty alone. It is a terrible way to live.

Compared to the alternative, I would be a fool to continue to live this way.

I can hear him out there, cussing and screaming, calling me all sorts of names. Calling me a whore and a bitch. Saying I can’t do anything right and he should toss me out. I contemplate packing my suitcases and leaving. Actually, my suitcases are already packed. All I need is the phone, card, and money, and I can go right now. I can walk away from here and never see Jeff Thompson again.

As I am considering this, the bedroom door squeaks open. Fear pulsates throughout my body as I see my husband standing in the doorway, his shirt unbuttoned most of the way, his tie gone, and his belt in his hands. The look on his face is deadly. I pull my knees up to my chest, more frightened than I have ever been in my entire life.