Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 137205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
My eyebrows rise and I look over at him. “Next time? There is no next time. I promised you one last ‘date’ and here I am. Once this one is over, my obligation to you is fulfilled.”
I don’t bother pointing out that I never really had an obligation to him to begin with, that he forced this whole arrangement and I’ve been an unwilling participant every step of the way.
He doesn’t bother remarking on it any further, either.
Since I’d rather watch the city lights out the window than talk to him, that’s what I do. Focusing on the sights instead of thinking about the rest of tonight seems the safest thing for my mental health. There’s no point wallowing in the inevitability.
Sure, I could spend the car ride tense and wondering when tonight will actually end. If it will end. I told him when this date ended he wouldn’t get another, so what if he decides to kidnap me like he said he would before?
Is there even a chance of me returning home to my apartment tonight, untouched by him?
A vision springs to mind of me in this ball gown, trapped in that dungeon with the door that doesn’t open.
It occurs to me as we drive along Fifth Avenue that I should probably be watching to make sure he doesn’t take me back there. It would be a fitting end, I suppose, but given the things he said about that club, I’m afraid to go back. If I refused to enter, would anyone even believe me, or would they just think it’s part of our roleplay for me to be so reluctant?
Something tells me he’s crafty enough to convince them it’s a roleplay.
It probably wouldn’t be hard given I am wearing a ball gown.
Crap.
Concern flickers across my brow. Calvin glances over and sees it, but he does nothing to ease my mind.
I don’t know where the sex club is. I’m not great at directions. I know we didn’t come this way that first night, but I was coming from a club in a different part of town, so that doesn’t mean anything.
“Where are we going?” I finally ask, once the dread gets too heavy and I need relief enough to speak to him.
His dark gaze lands on me. He doesn’t answer immediately. He keeps me waiting a moment, then says cryptically, “You’ll see.”
Well, that was no help.
I cross my arms and sit back in the seat, pouting a little. Inexplicably, this seems to please Calvin, and his eyes spark with heat.
My stomach jumps with nerves. Whatever I did to stir his interest I want to undo it, but I’m not sure what it was. I uncross my arms and stop pouting immediately. I start watching out the window like I was before, but I can still feel his gaze on me. I can still feel the heat. Whatever I awakened, there was no undoing it, and for the rest of the car ride I get the feeling it takes every bit of his willpower not to maul me right here in the back of the limo.
He doesn’t, though.
I suppose he wants to save that for after whatever date he has planned.
The urge to pout about the unfairness again is strong, but I have a strong feeling he liked that, so I don’t.
It’s not much longer before the car pulls up in front of a place I definitely recognize, but I’m a little confused because it’s definitely closed at this time of night. Unless there’s a private event here tonight…
They do have lavish fundraisers here sometimes and Calvin probably attends things like that. I suppose that would explain the gown and the tux, but would Calvin really take me somewhere so public for our last date?
I guess so, because the car stops and Hollis gets out. As he walks around to open my door, I glance over at Calvin. “This is what you wanted to do tonight?”
Maybe it’s not.
Maybe he already had plans so I’m just tagging along.
Rather than answer explicitly, he asks, “Was I wrong? Do you not like museums?”
“No, I do, I just…”
I thought we would be alone.
I don’t say that because then he might take it to mean I wanted to be alone with him, and that would be crazy.
I should be glad he’s taking me somewhere public.
Besides, never in my wildest dreams did I expect to ever attend at fundraiser at The Met.
I should be glad that’s all it is.
Why am I not glad?
I don’t like it, but in a dank, dark corner of my soul I’m confronted by the idea I’d had that Calvin would want me all to himself, especially on our last night together. Or, the last one I’ll agree to be present at, at least.
Even the kidnapping thing seems impossible after this. A lavish event like that would be photographed. There would be evidence that he was out with me tonight, so if I went missing, people would be able to determine pretty easily that he was the last person I was seen with.