Mister West by R.J. Lewis (animal farm read .TXT) 📕

was…soft. I can’t stop thinking of the last words he said to me right before he left me to sort myself out.

“You’re not a bother, Ivy. You’re a spark in my dark world.”

I’d still been standing by the window, taking it all in. His parting words hit me right in the chest. He left before I could respond.

Since then, I’ve been alone, and I’m not used to it.

In my apartment, as tiny as it was and as tense as it was, I could always hear Derek or the neighbors thumping around. If I didn’t hear any of those, the streets were always busy with cars zooming or horns honking or people hollering at one another.

Here, there is total silence. The streets are alive, but you can’t hear it.

It’s nearly midnight and I’ve tossed and turned half a million times. I slip out of bed and open my door. I poke my head out, straining to listen to any sort of movement. This place is too huge.

I can’t hear anything. I look in the direction of Aidan’s bedroom, and part of me feels so tempted to just go to it and knock. How many times did he tell me he wanted me? Has any of that changed now that I’m here?

I wonder if he’s sleeping.

I step out and linger for a while.

A noise comes from the other direction. They’re light sounds. Footsteps so faint you would have to really strain to hear. I follow the sounds, moving past the kitchen and lounge. Just beyond the dining room there is a hallway and more rooms. This place is endless.

There’s a faint glow coming out of one of the rooms. I hear shuffling sounds. I slowly approach, nervous. I’m out of my comfort zone here.

I peer in. It’s a huge office, packed to the brim with more books and filing cabinets. There’s a giant mahogany desk and sitting behind it, just beside another giant window, is Aidan. He’s showered and his hair is wet. He’s wearing a loose white shirt and his hand is running through his hair. He’s looking down at a bunch of papers, a frown etched on his face, like he’s not liking what he’s seeing.

Jeesh, it’s past midnight and he’s still…working?

I think to leave, but I don’t get the chance. He looks up and stills when he sees me. I wince, an apology at the tip of my mouth, but his face clears, and he smiles at me.

“Hey,” he says softly, dropping a paper in his hand. He leans back in his giant leather chair. “You okay?”

I smile. “More than okay.”

“Found everything you needed?” His eyes are running along my wet hair.

“You mean showering? Yeah, it was all there, thanks.” I clear my throat. “Sorry for interrupting. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“It’s okay, come in,” he tells me. “Have a seat.”

“I’m not intruding?”

“No.”

I walk in and take a seat on a deep armchair in the corner.

“Is the bed comfortable?” he asks me.

I nod. “Yeah, all of it is perfect. I just can’t sleep with all the recent changes. I didn’t know silence can make you feel so lonely.”

“Silence does that.”

“How about you? You look like you’re working.”

He nods. “I’m looking over some investments. Things I can sink my teeth into on the side.”

He doesn’t look interested in the papers anymore. He’s back to looking at me with his deep brown eyes. I feel my blood warm.

“Is your job not time consuming enough?” I ask him curiously.

“It’s not that,” he explains. “It’s not stimulating anymore.”

“Because all the hard work is over?”

He looks impressed. “Exactly, Ivy.”

“What would stimulate you then?”

I immediately regret my words. That sounded so dirty.

Aidan’s seductive smile spreads slowly as he peers at me with mischievous eyes. “That’s the question.”

My cheeks warm. “What are some of your interests?”

He glances at the papers, his brows coming together in thought. “I like building from the ground up. I like earning my success from scratch. I get a certain rush out of it.”

I shoot him an odd look. “That’s not a response I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

I shrug. “Most men cash out, don’t they? They’ve done what they sought out to do, or they let the company run itself. Then they go on doing other things.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, you know, have rich hobbies. They’ll sail, or fly planes, or drive really fast cars. I know for a fact you love your cars.”

He nods. “I do.”

“Not enough to race around in them all day?”

“No. I’ve spent too long trying to build all this.” He looks around, a strange expression taking over now as he searches for words. “Now that I have it, it feels…meaningless.”

I listen carefully, understanding. “Maybe that’s why you want to go back to what you know.” I gesture to the papers. “You’re searching for safety.”

His brows shoot up. “Safety?”

“You need this white noise, maybe to distract yourself from the meaningless stuff?”

He doesn’t respond for what feels like forever. He’s considering my words, so the silence isn’t awkward.

“Is that what you did?” he asks.

He means Derek.

“I went back to what I knew,” I answer, nodding. “It was familiar.”

“Do you still care about him?” There’s no hint of emotion in his voice. He’s trying very hard to hide it as he studies me.

“Of course. I was with him eight years,” I tell him. “He was all I knew. I was all he knew. It doesn’t mean we were right for each other.”

Now he looks like he’s trying to understand. His brows come together slowly. “What made it so hard to let go? Because it couldn’t have been just the familiarity, or even the trauma bond.”

“Trauma bond?”

“It’s a cycle of abuse. You create an emotional attachment to your abuser. You’ll endure the highs and lows. When it’s good, it’s fucking amazing, but when it’s bad, it’s the worst. During the worst, you cling to the good in that person. When the bad blows over, the highs consist of being pampered and love bombed. You kept thinking the best in him, didn’t you?”

I take a