There had to be a thousand restaurants in this city. Why did he have to choose the one where I worked?
He’d done it on purpose, just to torture me. Why?
I spent the entire evening being mad at him, and in turn at myself for being mad in the first place. It was a ridiculous, twisted circuit of anger that had my head throbbing by the end of the night. I spent a ridiculous amount of energy flirting with girls just to spite him. I hoped he saw.
God, had I really thought he was going to choose me? That just because he let me suck him off in the kitchen or jerk me off in the dark I would matter to him? I’d only known him for three days! He’d spent like twenty years playing totally straight because he thought his attraction to guys was wrong. Had I really thought I would be the one to change that? Maybe I’d been the one to finally tempt him enough to act on his closeted sexual impulses, but that didn’t mean anything more than surface attraction. In the end, that’s all I was to him—a hook-up.
And I didn’t want to be his charity case. As soon as humanly possible, I was going to move out. I had my savings now, and I had a job making way better money than I’d ever made before. I might not have a Range Rover or a Rolex, but I had street smarts and survival skills, and I came from a long line of people who’d done what they had to do to get by. I didn’t need anyone to hand me luxury on a fancy plate—I could earn it myself, and I would. First thing tomorrow, I’d find another place to live.
I was silent and sullen on the ride back to Derek’s, and Ellen took note.
“Hey.” She glanced at me. “You okay tonight?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t seem okay. I know Russians aren’t chatty by nature, but you’re broody even for a Russian tonight. And your aura is a little disturbed.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah. It’s dark. Very dark. I thought so when I picked you up today, but now I can really sense it.”
“Sorry.” I tried to think of a light color, so maybe my aura wouldn’t bother her.
“Don’t be sorry. Everyone is entitled to a dark aura now and again. But did something happen at work?”
“No.”
After a minute or so of silence, she said, “Did you know Derek was bringing Carolyn there tonight?”
“No.” I wondered what they were doing right now. Was he kissing her? Touching her? Fucking her? Jealousy spiked in me, unwelcome and unfamiliar. It’s none of your business what they do.
“She’s so nice, but…” Her voice trailed off, but my ears perked up. “I don’t know if they’re right for each other.
Something’s off. It’s like they’re trying too hard.”
“Mmm.”
Ellen laughed. “Just sounds now, huh? Not even words?” She patted my leg. “You poor thing. I’ll leave you alone.”
At first I was grateful, but maybe I should have let her keep talking because my brain filled the silence with the memory of Derek’s voice, growling and deep. His heavy breaths. His tortured groans. Was he giving them to her right now? Was he telling her he wanted more? Was he demanding her orgasm the way he’d demanded mine? Maybe he was. Maybe that was standard procedure with him. Maybe he even had a script.
After saying a terse thank-you-good-night to Ellen, I let myself in the front door and locked it behind me. All the lights were out and the house was completely silent, so I froze when I heard what sounded like the clink of ice in a glass coming from the living room.
That’s weird. Derek was home? And sitting alone in the dark? Or was Carolyn with him?
The last thing I wanted to do was interrupt, but on the off chance that it wasn’t Derek in there but some kind of intruder, I stood at the threshold of the room and peered into the darkness. I thought I made out a lone figure sitting on the couch, but my eyes were still adjusting when he spoke.
“Come in.”
It was him. “No, thank you.”
“Come. In.”
Always have to have your way, don’t you? I hated myself for it, but I entered the room. He stood, went over to the bar cart near the window and poured something into his glass. The silver-gray light filtering through the blinds outlined his silhouette, and his shoulders appeared even bigger than I remembered. My dick betrayed me by trying to get hard.
“Drink?” he asked.
“No, thank you.” I played cool Russian because I knew it would bother him.