Despite the fact it’s Nick, I somehow believe him. It’s the way he’s been treating me all evening, and now by running to my rescue to protect me, his chivalry has strangely put me at ease. However, I’m sure he won’t stay this way when he sees for himself I won’t ever be able to comply with his sexual proclivities; then I’m positive I will wind up being sold. Either that or I will do something to piss him off so bad he sees red and won’t be able to stand the sight of me.
Another man’s voice approaches from behind. He sounds strong and authoritative as he asks, “Nick? What’s going on here?” Both men converse over me, but I’m so stressed I pay no attention to what they’re saying and shut everything around me out. I feel sick to my stomach, and I just want to curl up in a corner and hide somewhere safe. I feel Nick’s strong pectoral muscles flexing against my cheek as he speaks to the other gentleman, his deep voice reverberating from his chest and into my ear.
I inhale his masculine musk and close my eyes. Nick carries such power he is able to make me feel safe, treasured, protected, and cared for. As the men talk, I take the time out and think to myself, I have to find a happy medium with Nick. I just have to, or I won’t survive to see twenty-two. I wonder if I have enough resourceful creativity left in me to pretend Nick is the good guy, just so I can keep myself subordinate, and keep myself from winding up on the selling block, front and center. Can I put up enough of a false front and pretend I’m falling head-over-heels for this man?
As their voices die down, my surroundings grow quiet. The background music begins to filter back into my ears as Nick leans down to whisper in my ear, “Are you okay, love? They’re gone now.” His warm breath on my skin gives me goose bumps. I tilt my head back as he meets my eyes, looking down on me with concern. His behavior has been without fault all evening, and his emotions steady and anchored, but in the same breath, I feel as if I’m playing a game of Russian roulette with him. There is no way to know which chamber is holding the bullet when the trigger is pulled, which in turn may lead to my final demise, and I’ve never been a good gambler.
“I’ll be fine, thank you.” Nick kisses my forehead then pulls my head gently back into his chest, tucking the top of my head underneath his chin. He begins to gently rock me side to side in a soothing motion, trying to calm me.
“I heard most of the conversation. Do you want to talk about it?”
I swallow hard and shake my head. Things between us this evening have been tranquil, altruistic, and compassionate, and I just want to suspend time, keeping us here as long as possible. When I don’t answer, Nick peels his upper body away from mine, separating me from his chest, and I immediately feel bereft. He peers down into my eyes, studying me for a moment before his lips slip into a tender smile. “You’ve always been too curious a kitten not to have any questions, love. You’re the type of person who would burst at the seams if you didn’t continually have your curiosity stoked.”
He’s right; I’ve got a big question, and I may as well go ahead and let the cat out of the bag. Ever since Tara said there would be others, it’s been gnawing at my conscience, so I ask, “Am ...am I going to be expected to have sex with other men?”
Nick’s lips form into a hard line; he doesn’t look happy. “No, baby, I can’t believe that bitch made you think otherwise.” Nick’s eyes soften as he leans down and kisses my lips with a tenderness I didn’t know he possessed. “I will never share you, nor sell you; you are solely mine. I was serious when I told you I would be faithful to you; plus, I’m a very jealous man when it comes to you. I would kill anyone who takes what is mine. He shakes his head, affection swirling behind his brown and gold-flecked eyes. “You’re a once in a lifetime, a rarity, and I still can’t believe I have you here in my arms.” He tilts his head and flashes me his perfect smile. “I will be your first, your last, and your forever.”
~Nick~
As we sit back at our table, I feel my phone buzzing inside the breast pocket of my suit for the third time in the span of five minutes, and I internally curse. Someone must want to get in touch with me in a bad way. I gave explicit instructions not to disturb me this evening, and I even went so far as to tell those who had my direct line I didn’t care if the world was coming to an end, not to call me.