Beg For Me, My Love

flashed in my mind again, her smile weak but hopeful. My pri

breath of surrender. My

was small

ssed, her eyes hard. "I

o meet her gaze. "I accept your

corrected, her voice l

but didn't

ts victory. I expected another command, another turn of

k back on the table

" she said, her tone all business now. "My assi

with a mixture of relief and utter degradation. She had won, she had stripped me of my pride, and then she had simply walked a

rtment felt claustrophobic. It was a world away from the penthouse suite I would have shared

ng in protest. In the quiet darkness, the past c

a chip on my shoulder. She was Sophia Davis, heir to the Davis Gallery empire, judging the student exhibition. She'd stopped a

d said, her eyes shining with genuine excitement.

sy studio, the smell of turpentine, the passion I poured into my work. She saw me, not my ba

n-law of the Davis family. Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Davis, had never approved. They were polite on the surface, b

ummoned me to his club, a place so steeped in old money it fel

s of amber liquid. "Let's be frank.

olished mahogany table. It w

go away, find your 'voice' without the distraction of our family's influence. Sophia deserves someone on

ring me money; he was telling me I was worthless, that my love wa

ey wanted me to be. I saw a future where my work was just another asset in

worst decisi

-and I staged a brutal breakup. I told Sophia I was tired of pretending, that the money and the lifestyle were all I ever wanted. I became the villain so s

I knew I hadn't saved anythi