Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Our pizza arrives, and our waiter slides a piece on each of our plates.
“Eat,” I tell her. “We’ve got to get to the club.”
In silence, she eats her food, and I can tell she likes it by the way she licks her lips and her gaze softens.
“I don’t like that you think I’m so predictable,” she says. “It makes me feel stupid and shallow.”
“And that’s exactly the type of thing I wouldn’t allow if you were mine.”
Blinking, she looks genuinely confused. “What?”
“The self-deprecation.”
Shaking her head, she takes a second slice of pizza.
“And to be clear, I don’t think you’re predictable. There are a handful of things about you I’ve surmised, but there are many things I have not.” It’s time to change the subject. “Tell me about your family.”
“You first.”
“Alright.” I take a sip of wine and lean back in my chair. “My parents are socialites, the elite. They’re retired and remote, and I like it that way. My father is an asshole with no low he wouldn’t stoop to to get ahead. And he did. Over and over again. My mom was happy as long as she got what she wanted, which, in her case, was diamonds and furs and servants to wait on her. She wanted nothing to do with me, and less to do with my father.”
Cora’s eyes widen. “Wow.”
I shrug. “Yeah. So, they’re retired and hate each other, and I only have to see them on holidays.”
“Sounds… lovely,” she murmurs. “So… no siblings. No fond childhood memories…”
“Right. I don’t want to talk about my parents. There’s no love lost on either account.”
“That’s so sad,” she murmurs.
“So your mom was an alcoholic who died in jail,” I say. “Your father died overseas in the military, and now you have custody of two children.”
“Right.”
“How do you do it?”
“Do what?” she asks.
“Hold down two jobs, go to college, and parent two kids?”
I watch her cast her gaze away from mine when she eats her pizza. Swallowing, she finally answers. “I don’t do it well, as evidenced by my mad scramble to get to parent-teacher night tonight. I see Ben and Bailey on the weekends, but it isn’t nearly enough time. My grades are good, but only because I’ve been miraculously gifted the ability to do well academically without much effort. I just retain information easily.”
Shrugging, she looks back at me. “Now let’s get to the real reason why we’re here, Mr. Alexander.”
God, her spunk. No pussy footing around the real issues with this one.
“The real reason? You were hungry and so was I. I wanted to talk to you in private, so I brought you here.”
With her eyes on mine, she sips more wine, bringing a color to her cheeks that makes her fetching.
“You take poor college girls for uber expensive rooftop pizza on a whim often?” she asks.
This wasn’t how I would propose things to her. Not now. Not like this. But she’s asking, so I’ll give her the bald truth.
“I’m a man with particular tastes, Cora,” I tell her.
She snorts.
God, she needs her ass whipped.
“Aren’t we all?” she murmurs, before taking another bite of her pizza.
“Perhaps. But I don’t do relationships. I ask for a simple agreement. Eight weeks where you follow my rules.”
“Wait. What?”
“I’m offering you a proposition.”
I shouldn’t do this. I should not do this.
But I can’t fucking help it. I want her.
“Is that so?” she asks, her eyes wide with shock. “And what might that be?”
“For two months, you’ll agree to be my submissive. During that time, I ask that you step down as bartender of Verge, though you may keep your job at the bookstore.”
“What?”
“I will expect you to accompany me on dates and scene regularly with me at Club Verge. In turn, I will see to your utmost needs, and pay you amply.”
“You’re insane,” she mutters.
I write down a number on a napkin and show it to her, enjoying how she stills in shock.
“What’s that?” she whispers.
“The payment I’ll give you for following my terms.”
Her eyes widen and she bites her lip, brows furrowed. I watch how she wrestles with her needs and reservations, not knowing how to respond. Does the idea intrigue her?
“I can’t do this,” she finally whispers. “I can’t… no.” She’s on her feet. With eyes flashing at me, she’s backing away. “And you’re an asshole for even offering. You knew I was poor. You knew how hard it would be to say no. And still, you had the audacity to taunt me like this. No. You think everyone has the inclination to obey you, just because you’re wealthy and powerful? There are some things, Mr. Alexander, that money simply can’t buy.”
I watch her leave and pull up my phone to instruct Manuel to take her to wherever she needs to go. She can take off but she’ll do it safely.