“I know I said a lot about how important the money is, but...it’s not your problem.”
“Are you refusing my generosity?”
No.
Yes.
Because I’m crazy.
And an idiot.
“I wasn’t looking to guilt you into charity.”
“You wanted the money badly enough to give up your virginity, but now you won’t take it because I won’t have sex with you?”
It sounds ludicrous because it is. I don’t know what I’m doing.
“So have sex with me,” I say.
He blinks several times. His grip on the steering wheel tightens. He mutters something in French.
I realize I’ve upset him. On top of making no sense. I look out the window to my right and wish I was back at my apartment, so I can put this whole thing behind me.
Abruptly, he swerves the car all the way to the slow lane and pulls up on the shoulder. He puts the car in park and turns to me. I feel like withering beneath his stare.
“You won’t take money unless I fuck you?” he demands.
I guess that’s what I’m saying. It’s hard to think straight when he’s looking at me like that, even with the sunglasses shading the flash in his eyes. For almost the entire time I’ve been in his company, he’s been nothing but cool and collected. Occasionally, I would see a flair of emotion from beneath half-lidded eyes, but his tone was always calm. Till now.
“You could, um, not fuck me and not give me the money if you want,” I offer.
He rolls his eyes once with a shake of the head. “I told you what my preferences are. I warned you.”
I nod.
“Putain de merde,” he mutters.
He works the gearshift and pulls the car back onto the freeway. So what did he just decide? I almost dare not ask, but he speaks first.
“So where do you want to do it?”
Does this mean he’s agreeing to have sex?
When I don’t answer, he says, “The Grand Pacific at The Montclair is still available.”
“No!”
If I show up there, Mrs. Ruiz will think I’m reporting for work. I can’t imagine what lie I could concoct for why I would be accompanying Mr. Lee into his suite. But I don’t want to go back to my place either. There’s not enough privacy, and I don’t know that he wants to slum it.
He pushes a button on the car’s dashboard, and a woman’s voice comes on over the speaker. She speaks in Chinese, and Tony answers in Chinese. She replies, then hangs up.
I stare out the car window. My heartrate matches the speed of the car. Is this really happening? Did I just finagle him into having sex with me? Either way, he doesn’t seem happy about it.
What have I done?
CHAPTER TWELVE
The woman Tony called earlier on speaker calls back, and I hear the word “Drescott” amidst the Chinese.