Chapter 8 The Rascal

The word cheap sliced into her, cruel and merciless. It lodged itself deep inside her chest, branding her with shame she refused to wear. Esther’s fingers twitched, itching to strike him, to silence that mocking mouth with the sting of her palm. But she restrained herself, nails digging into her palm, fists trembling furiously at her sides.

Vinson caught her pride warring against humiliation. And it only pleased him further. A slow, wicked grin unfurled across his face as he leaned just close enough for her to hear the whisper meant to crush her spirit. “Every move you make, every word you speak, it contradicts itself. You may hide it, but I can still see the marks Gaara left on you… right there, where he sucked you.”

“Bastard!” Esther shoved Vinson away, desperate to put space between them. This was madness utterly twisted. Nothing about this situation aligned with sense or reason. And yet, the most crushing part of it all was that some of his words rang true. That truth, poisoned and distorted though it was, left her choking on frustration, furious not only at him but at herself. His cruel remarks cut deeper because she feared she might deserve them.

“You reject me, call me a bastard,” Vinson’s voice dropped, dark and unforgiving, “yet only moments ago you were moaning under Gaara’s touch. Hypocrite.”

The word burned like fire across her skin. Esther stiffened, but before she could react, the world seemed to tilt. Somehow, she couldn’t even register how she was already trapped. Her back met the cold surface of the wall, and Vinson’s body loomed dangerously close, caging her in with an oppressive weight she couldn’t escape.

The air grew suffocating. His nearness swallowed her whole. Esther’s breath quickened, her pulse racing in a panicked staccato. And then she felt it. The subtle brush of his breath ghosted across the nape of her neck. It was warm, invasive, and unbearably close, sending a shiver racing down her spine.

“But do you want to know the strangest part?” Vinson whispered, his lips grazing her ear like a secret meant to corrode her from within. “I liked the sound of your voice when you moaned.”

And before Esther could summon her strength to push him away, something warm and wet pressed against the delicate skin of her throat.

The moment Esther realized what that warmth was his tongue against her skin. Her body reacted on instinct. She spun around sharply, her palm slicing through the air before she even registered what she was doing.

The slap landed hard. A sharp crack echoed through the room, followed by silence. Vinson froze, his head jerking to the side from the impact. For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause. He touched his cheek slowly, almost in disbelief, while Esther stood there trembling, her chest heaving as she struggled to control her ragged breath. Fury coursed through her veins, hot and merciless. She had never in her life lost control like this, but with Vinson, she didn’t need a second thought violence felt justified.

And yet, instead of stopping, instead of retreating, Vinson suddenly burst out laughing. The sound was wild, manic, echoing off the walls until it made her skin crawl.

“You slapped me?” His laughter deepened, his grin twisting into something darker. “This is insane. Absolutely insane!”

“Shut your filthy mouth, bastard!” Esther snapped, acting on impulse. She grabbed the nearest thing she could reach, a melamine plate from the sink and hurled it at him with all her strength.

But Vinson was too quick. He dodged effortlessly, the plate crashing uselessly onto the floor, where it clattered and rolled before lying still, mocking her helplessness.

His eyes glinted with malicious amusement. “Is this your declaration then? That you prefer Gaara? That you want him so badly?”

“What nonsense are you spouting now? I don’t like him!” Esther’s voice shook with rage and disbelief.

“Really?” Vinson’s smirk widened, dangerous and knowing. He had never found her interesting before, but the way she reacted when Gaara’s name entered the conversation ignited something wicked in him. He liked this fire. He wanted more of it.

“Then prove it.”

Prove it? Esther’s stomach knotted. What kind of twisted demand was that? They weren’t reckless teenagers playing cruel games. “For what possible reason should I have to prove anything to you?” she hissed, her voice sharp as broken glass.

Vinson leaned closer, his expression smug and merciless. “Because I have a video.” His words dripped with venomous triumph. “A recording of everything you and Gaara did in this kitchen. Imagine how delightful it would be if I wasn’t the only one who knew about it.”

Esther’s mouth fell open at the absurdity of Vinson’s words. For all their madness, there was something disturbingly tempting about his offer.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice low, uncertain.

“Simple,” Vinson replied smoothly. “Tame Gaara Maxwell, and I’ll stop meddling in your life.”

Esther froze, her eyes locking onto his. She had never expected the conversation to take such a serious turn. Gaara was her friend, so why would Vinson demand something so twisted from her?

“You’re insane!” she hissed.

“That’s not the point,” he cut her off coldly. “Do you agree or not? This offer won’t come twice. I’ll wait for your answer no later than tomorrow. If you don’t give me one, then everyone will know exactly what I saw today.”

With that, Vinson turned and strode out of the room. Satisfaction flickered across his face, pleased with the pale terror etched into Esther’s expression. Something deep inside him told him she would eventually yield to his terms sooner or later. He could hardly wait to witness her downfall unfold before his very eyes.

Esther stood frozen, her body trembling, her lips parting in a strangled whisper, the weight of doom crashing upon her.

“God… I’m as good as dead.”