Exotic Nights

She crossed the room, picked up the little bag she’d dropped by the door and thanked the heavens that the family today had paid her in cash. She opened the envelope and flung the dollar notes down on the bench next to Owen.

‘What’s that for?’ He looked at it, distaste all over his face.

‘That’s the money for rent, for the four new tyres that Bubbles has—don’t think I haven’t noticed them—for the petrol, for the groceries, for all the dinners, the wine, for the website and for the hotel bill in Waiheke.’ She stopped for breath. It wasn’t nearly enough to cover all that, but it sure felt good to say it.

‘I don’t want it,’ he said flatly.

‘I won’t have you paying for things for me.’ She tossed her head. ‘It makes me feel like a who—’

‘Don’t you dare!’ he shouted then, his step closer shutting her up. Anger flushed his cheeks and flashed in his eyes. ‘I have never paid for sex, Bella, and I don’t intend to start now.’

‘Really?’ she said scornfully, sounding a whole lot braver th

an she felt. ‘But isn’t that what’s happening here?’

‘You know damn well it isn’t.’ He spoke through his teeth. ‘It’s just money. It’s meaningless.’

Like the sex? Not to her, it wasn’t.

He seemed to read her face and growled. ‘Why are you so damn keen to label everything?’

‘Why are you so keen to deny everything?’ The attraction between them wasn’t anything ordinary—surely he could sense that?

‘This is just sex, Bella.’ His words came like the cracks of a whip. ‘I like it. You like it. That’s all there is to it.’

Bella blinked. Bit the inside of her cheek as she absorbed the shock of what he’d said and the depth of his scowl. Humiliation started to seep into her very core.

‘Why did you pay for that night in the hotel?’ She winced. Did he hear that slight cry in her voice?

‘I don’t know,’ he answered irritably, stepping away. ‘It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. I knew you were tight for money. I just wanted to help you out.’

‘Well, I don’t want your help.’ She spoke quickly, marched to the bedroom, unzipping her dress and walking right out of it, leaving it on the floor. She’d never be able to wear it again without thinking of this moment—the time when he’d taken her so passionately and then turned on her.

‘Don’t you?’ He was right behind her. ‘Well, you’re certainly not helping yourself.’

‘What does that mean?’ Furious with the way she felt tears close by, she picked a skirt and pulled on the nearest top she could find.

‘You won’t let me help you. You won’t let anyone help you.’

‘That’s right, Owen. I won’t.’ She grabbed a flannel and scrubbed her face hard, blocking the sight and sound of him with water from the tap, stopping any stupid tears from even starting.

When her face was bare and reddened, but masked once more, she turned and headed for the door.

‘Where are you going?’

‘I have an audition.’

‘Now?’

She sent him a glare while slipping into her sandals. ‘Yes, now.’

‘And you’re going like that?’

‘Yes.’ She walked.

He swore. ‘You deliberately sabotage yourself.’

After a minuscule pause she kept walking.