Bad Girl

“You want more of this, more of me, then you need to submit, Leila. I’m not going to give you my cock if you’re keeping secrets from me.”

“I don’t know what you want.”

“Everything. I want everything. I want to know who this person is you sold me out to. I also want to know your favorite thing to have for breakfast, what colors you prefer, what side of the bed you sleep on. I want to know if you want one kid or five or some number in between, and how big of a diamond you want on your finger. I want to know why you fight me so damn hard, mouthing off, stealing my plans, selling them to someone else, but coming back and letting me love you. I want to know everything.” I heave her off my lap and upright so that she can stare me in the eye and turn me away. “You either talk or you walk.” I point my finger toward the door. “The exit is right there if you can’t be honest.” I hold my breath. I have no fucking clue what I’ll do if she tries to walk out of here. I might lose my mind.

She sucks in a breath, and I tense up with fear that she’s leaving.

“Why five?” she blurts out unexpectedly.

“Why what?”

“Five. Why is five the upper limit? Why not eight kids or ten kids? You’ve got enough money here”—she flings out an arm—“to have a whole football team.”

I relax a tiny bit. “I was thinking of you, darling. A football team seems like it would wreak havoc on your spirit. We can have as many as you want.”

Her lower lip trembles, and her hands fly up to cover her eyes. “You killed my dad, and so I had to get back at you.” A sob leaves her.

“I killed your dad?” She’s said her dad was an investor that couldn’t afford to play the game with me. Her dad must’ve gotten involved in one of those shady deals, lost all his money, and killed himself. “What about the people who don’t have the power to get their money back? What about them?” she’d asked. I told her those people should pound rocks. It wasn’t a rhetorical question but one that held a shit ton of significance for her. I feel like an asshole and a fool. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry.” I pull her forlorn body into the circle of my arms. She buries her face into my neck. The wetness on my skin deepens my guilt.

“Was it the Park Hill deal?”

She nods.

“Your dad invested?”

She nods again.

“And I won the bid, and he lost his money to some schemer?”

Another nod.

“I’m not mad at you. Deals come and go. It was the fact you weren’t talking, that you were hiding from me. We can’t have anything meaningful if you’re keeping secrets. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You wanna tell me all about it so that I can spank you because it makes you horny and not because you think you did something wrong?”

“Why aren’t you mad at me? How do I know you’re not doing this to ferret out all the information and then you’ll dump me?” she cries.

“Whew. We need to build up some trust between us. Guess I can’t do anything but show you that these buildings mean nothing to me. People are what matter. Sweetheart, I shut down my whole office because I thought there was some crazed dumbass with a knife who could harm you. In this business, you are going to lose deals. It’s just how it is, but if the bargain came down to you or a dozen Park hotel properties, I’d choose you a million times over. You’re irreplaceable. No one I’ve ever met moves me like you do, and I’m not just talking about making my dick hard. I’m talking here.” I thump my fist against my heart. “It is a faith thing, and I can’t make you believe me. I can only ask.”

Leila pushes away, wipes the back of her hands against her cheeks, and begins to talk. “It was me and Mom for my whole life, and then she died. I was a mess when I lost her. When I was going through her things, I found a journal. In the journal she wrote about my dad. I went to find him because…”—she presses her lips together to keep a sob inside—“because I was lonely. I didn’t have anyone. Chris Parson is my uncle. He said that my dad killed himself because you cheated them and that I could avenge my father by bringing you down. I don’t have an Ivy League education and I can’t play chess. I’m a waitress. That’s all I’ve ever done.” She pins me with a stare that’s half defiant and half hurt. “Now you know the truth. What are you going to do?”