Mr Remeo You Promise Me Chapter 27

Posted by admind, ? Views, Released on February 3, 2025

Chapter 27

Stan rages, beet red and quite literally spitting mad. “I’m not going to stand by and watch you treat her like a whore!” he shouts.

I let out a disgusted sigh. “Stan, you treat me like a whore,” I point out, my voice steady despite the anger swirling inside the pit of my stomach. “And a punching bag, and a scapegoat, and whatever else makes you feel like a big strong man. So, respectfully, fuck right the hell off.”

4

The full weight of his bruised male ego falls square onto me. “I’ve done nothing but give you opportunity after opportunity since the day you wandered into my class looking for mermaids. You were directionless and delusional, a complete waste of potential, but I’m the one who took a chance on you.”

“The only opportunity you’ve ever given me was the chance to suck your dick for a grade I had already earned. I made it to the top of your class because I deserved it,” I snap back.

“You arrogant little twat, you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me!” he shouts, his face contorting with anger.

I match him tone for tone, until we’re both hurling accusations at the other, “Do you bother listening to anything other than yourself? You wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near Wake if I hadn’t been on that ship.”

“Stop calling it that!” Stan snarls, throwing his hands in the air. “Stop acting like that godforsaken thing is a man. It’s not.” He shoves a finger in my face, “And you can play house with it all you want, it doesn’t care about you, and it’s not going to give you what you need.”

“What is it that I need, Stan? And who’s going to give it to me? You?” I let out an incredulous laugh.

3

Stan just stares at me, breathing heavily, looking as if he wants to say a million things I absolutely don’t want to hear.

Director St. Cloud clears her throat pointedly.

“Are the two of you finished?” she asks, leveling us each with a hard stare. “I’m not going to pretend that I don’t find your dynamic… troubling. I also don’t plan to babysit two fully grown adults. What I will say is that on this island, results come first, and I will not have petty distractions put my life’s work at risk. Do you understand?”

She aims the question at both of us but stares intently at Stan while she does it. He looks as if he’s about to choke on his own anger just before he turns and storms from the hospital room, slamming the door behind him.

In his absence, the tension in the room begins to settle, but Director St. Cloud continues on as if she hadn’t witnessed that catastrophe. She turns to me and pulls a keycard from the pocket of her lab coat, handing it to me. “Here. This key will let you into your bungalow and into the main laboratory. I’ve placed Dr. Wilcox in the barracks on the other side of the campus, by the way. In case you were wondering.”

I take it hesitantly. “How did you know that I was going to agree to help you?”

The older woman scoffs. “I did see that security footage, dear. I wouldn’t have left either.”

My cheeks burn like hell, and I silently wish the floor would open and swallow me whole. The Director smirks, turning on her heel to exit the room. “You’re in Bungalow Four. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The next morning, I wake in Bungalow Four to tropical sunlight streaming in through the diaphanous curtains lining my window. I open my eyes and simply stay there. I can’t remember the last time I woke up not in pain or desperately confused, much less actually comfortable.

I haven’t had a moment to myself to process everything that has happened over the last week, and now that I can, I find I’m too afraid to access those memories. Stan, the crew, my odd bond with Wake and everything that entailed… I worry that if I open the mental box I’ve shoved those emotions into, they’ll start running wild, and I’ll never be able to wrangle them back inside.

I don’t want fear, uncertainty, or shame to rule my every waking moment. I want to wake up on a comfortable mattress and feel the sun on my face. I want to get up, do my job, and prove that I’m damn good at what I do.

I get up and take a shower, careful not to completely scour Wake’s scent from my skin, even though I’m half–convinced I couldn’t if I tried given how he’d marked me much more thoroughly on the observation deck than he had on the boat. I decide to err on the side of caution anyway. As interesting as the experience had been, I’m not sure my heart can take another session so soon.

I use the stocked inventory of toiletries and clothes to finish getting ready, pulling my long hair back into a high ponytail and putting on the first complete outfit I’ve worn in days. God, I missed pants.