Beg Me-Sold to My Dad's Boss

And at least the big man had the grace to flush, acknowledging my words, nodding imperceptibly. So I continued, rueful.

“I’d give anything not to feel this way,” I said, my voice soft. “But you’re a man who’s able to buy anything you want, and right now, that’s me,” I added. “You bought me with my dad’s job, the promotion, my family’s financial security, not to mention the clothes, the jewels, the offer to send me to culinary school, travel the world with you,” I said with a sad smile. “But one thing you’ll learn is that I can’t be bought,” I said simply. “My heart’s not for sale.”

And the big man gazed at me thoughtfully again, leaning back in his chair.

“Well, what do you want then, Lindy?” he asked reasonably. “Do you want me to fire your dad? Take back the clothes and jewels? Take back the helicopter ride, is that what you want?”

And I sighed because of course those were ridiculous suggestions.

“Of course not,” I sighed, shaking my head. “I just mean … I don’t know, you know? We didn’t exactly meet under ‘normal’ circumstances so now it feels strange to think that you’re interested in me.”

The big man leaned forward then, taking my hand in his, his blue eyes piercing, penetrating.

“Oh believe it,” he said silkily. “It’s real little girl, it’s for fucking real. But I see what you mean with the ‘buying,’” he conceded, “I am a man of great wealth and I’m used to greasing the wheels with money,” he said. “It’s the way the world works, baby, this is nothing new.”

And here I set down my foot.

“But not with me,” I replied softly. “You can’t buy my love. Like I said before, it’s not for sale.”

Chris threw up his hands in exasperation again.

“But Lindy, I can’t re-write history, I can’t re-write the circumstances of how we met. What do you want me to do now? Demote Jim? Take away the promotion? Say, no, I made a mistake, I’m letting you go? This is the real world, little girl, I had something of value, you had something of value, and we exchanged to our mutual satisfaction, so what’s wrong? How do you want me to make this right?”

And I wasn’t sure, to be honest. All I knew was that I didn’t want to feel this way, would do anything to throw myself into his arms, forget our past. But the mercenary aspect of our history made me shudder, made my skin crawl, and I couldn’t get over it so fast.

“I’m so sorry, Chris,” I said slowly, getting up again. “I’m not sure how to make it right, but I know this is wrong.”

And this time, when I turned to go, the big man didn’t stop me. Why, oh why, did my heart cry out then? I loved him too, with every fiber of my being. But the way we met was insurmountable and I couldn’t forget it, not now.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Lindy

“Hi Mom,” I said dully into the phone. “How are you?”

“Lindy!” said my mom happily. “Good, how’s school treating you?”

To be honest, terrible. I was barely dragging myself to class, barely talking to anyone, barely eating any meals even. Ever since my meeting with Chris my world had gone grey, I lived in a world of shadows and distant sounds, my hearing muffled, my senses dulled.

But Brenda didn’t need to know that, so I slipped a little white lie in there.

“Okay,” I said, trying to sound cheery. “Things are okay.” But my voice cracked at the end and that was a dead giveaway because my mom has been my mom for nineteen years and she could tell something was off.

“Honey,” she began slowly. “Is everything alright? I got something in the mail, and it was addressed to you from the school, and I know I wasn’t supposed to open it, but I did …” her voice trailed off.

That jolted me awake.

“What is it?” I asked sharply. Oh shit, was it my tuition bill? Something about my grades?

And my worst nightmare came true because my mom’s wavery voice came back on the line.

“Baby,” she said, “the registrar sent a letter saying that you’re getting D’s in two of your classes. Is that true?” she asked. “Are you having trouble academically?”

And I was silent for a moment. I’ve always struggled in college, it’s not the same as high school and things don’t come easy. I couldn’t quite seem to get the hang of my classes, no matter what I did, no matter how much studying I put in. And of course, I couldn’t focus since my conversation with Chris, so it was a miracle I was getting D’s, and not F’s.

I thought about covering it up, making up something about being sick, but my life was such a travesty that I couldn’t bear it, couldn’t stand going deeper into the web.