The Art Of Revenge (Thalia Nash and Brandon) novel Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Brandon’s Pov

I awoke with tremors in my hands, which I believe was caused by my body being stressed the day before. I managed to force myself into a seated position with the little energy I had left, causing me excruciating pain.

Every bone in my body felt like it was being dragged across the concrete. I winced in pain, cursing the g*d who had given me such fate.

When I peered across the room, I noticed the fragile creature that had thwarted my carefully planned suicide. She was dozing and her legs were strewn on my pricey leather sofa. I went to die but returned with new baggage.

“That’s fantastic,” I told myself. I tried calling her name but couldn’t remember it; I bit my lower lip. attempting to recall her strange name but came up empty-handed. To be honest, I’d always had a thing for not recalling the girls I brought over to my other houses.

The rule was to sleep with them and toss them over for the next one but this was the first girl I brought over without sleeping with her. In fact she was the first girl I brought to this particular house. My secret hideout, my heaven.

I glanced about for something to hurl at her, but all I saw were pillows that were too soft for me to toss and hit the other end of the room. She was a terrible sleeper, she slept like a toddler and it was no surprise that her dumb husband abandoned her.

I only had one choice left: I turned around and looked for my house system control, hoping it was nearby. I noticed it on my left drawer and pressed a button that turned the entire room into a disco with loud music.

She leaped out of bed as if she had been drenched and inserted her fingers into her ears, peering at me in disbelief.

I switched it off after exactly one minute of waiting. “What is your name?” I inquired, my tone harsh. Her hair was messy, her eyes tired from the sleep that I had just interrupted, but she had a look of surprise on her face as she slowly removed her fingers from her ears.

“Thalia,” she said.

“Oooh, Thalia, a Greek name, get me a wheelchair. I have to go to the bathroom,” I said, startling her even more. I directed my finger to the wheelchair that was near the door. She turned to face me after staring at the wheelchair.

“If I sh*t on this bed, you’ll clean me up and wipe my butt.” I joked.

As if her life depended on it, she dashed to the entrance and grabbed the wheelchair. She moved a little and placed it near the bed. I locked my gaze on her and raised my arms, suggesting that I wanted assistance getting into the wheelchair.

“But…” she tried to protest but couldn’t. She stepped closer to the bed and attempted to move me, but she was unsuccessful the first time. Her hand was as small as a toddler’s and she was meatless..

I’m sure her husband used to starve her to death or something. Her boobs were the only huge thing on her body, which I continued glancing at while she tried to move me again. I was curious as to how large they were if she took off her ugly sweatshirt. She came to a halt and locked eyes with me for a little moment.

I thought she had caught me staring for a second, but I needed to move quickly.

“How long has it been since you last had a bath?” I inquired, solemnly.

She quickly let go of me, embarrassed, and moved away, attempting to catch her foul odor. I sighed

bund motioned for her to move closer, afte, which I climbed into the wheelchair using her body as a Astair.