Oh. My. God.
I’m seriously deluding myself, aren’t I?
Satisfied with my silence, Nate leaves without another word, the door closing with a loud bang after him. Shrimp starts chirping at me as though to bitch me out for even having a conversation with Nate. To take my mind of his words and to wait for Winston, I take a long bath. Nate’s words continue to dig under my skin, though, and get inside my bones.
Maybe this lunch thing was just that. Lunch. But what if it wasn’t? What if he’s getting bored with me?
Or worse yet, when his mother and his best friend finally convince him I’m just a plaything and he lets me go to set off for a more appropriate match like this Layla woman?
We started this out as a negotiation—me indulging his insane kinks for cold, hard cash—but it evolved into something deeper for me. Sure, we joke a lot about him being my boyfriend, but a giant part of me wishes he was. Aside from his freak nature, Winston is a catch. He’s successful and confident and gorgeous and protective. I like him. Really, really like him. Somehow, I think he really likes me too. So why does it all feel so brittle and fleeting?
Because it is.
The apartment was the first attempt to keep you at arm’s length. Who knows what his dinner with his mother will bring?
At the sound of the front door opening, I dry off and throw on a robe. I’m just rounding the corner to see Winston walking in. Shrimp sings a happy song to him before divebombing him and landing on his shoulder. I expect him to swat the bird away. Instead, he strokes him gently with his thumb and speaks lowly to him. My heart does a twist inside my chest, making me realize Winston Constantine is capable of breaking me if he wants to. Being so vulnerable to such a powerful man is unnerving.
“How was dinner with your mother?” I clip out in greeting, my tone laced with hurt and accusation. I immediately hate myself for being so transparent.
Winston turns to regard me, his features impassive and cool. The only tell of his interest in me is the slight flaring of his nostrils and heated flicker in his blue eyes as he skims his gaze over my bare legs. Something catches his eye, and his brows furrow.
“Who was here?” he asks, gesturing to the empty glass on the table.
Shrimp flies over to his cage and noisily starts pecking at his food.
“Your bestie,” I state a little testily. His brow arches and I clarify, “Nate.”
For a beat, all Winston does is stare at me. It reminds me of the cold, unfeeling way his mother looked at me. I suppress a shiver and instead lift my chin. Whatever transpired between him and his mother has been brought home with him. He’s clearly irritated and frustrated, hardening those emotions with his indifference he wears like metal armor.
“And what did my bestie want?”
I huff and shrug. “To use your prissy warm towels.” And to make me feel like shit.
His eyes narrow as he studies me. All that can be heard is Shrimp’s pecking. My heart thunders in my chest as I wonder if this’ll be the moment he tells me to leave. That he let his mother whisper in his ear and tell him I’m not good enough for her eldest Constantine son. That maybe Nate was right and he wants to see this other woman. The silence drags out between us, neither of us budging or speaking.
It’ll be fine.
Whatever happens will be okay.
I earned that first year of tuition fair and square in his office earlier today. And if there’s something I know about Winston, it’s that he always follows through on a deal. At the very least, I had some fun and have school taken care of for a bit.
So why does my chest ache?
Because you don’t want this to be over. Because it’s not just about money for you.
“Cinderelliott?” He tugs at the knot of his tie. “How would you like to earn some money?”
The familiarity of our game has relief flooding through me like a rushing river.
This isn’t over.
We’re both in too deep to walk away now.
I just need to convince him if you take all of the money and tuition and gifts away, we’re still worth something.
I have to. I will.
17
Winston
The air is charged with something. A mixture of my anger and Ash’s defiance. I’d walked into my condo, ready to send her home—for good—but as soon as I saw her, everything changed.
Again.
Seems she has a way of doing that to me.
My thoughts drift back to dinner with Mother, hardening my heart to the woman before me.
“Do you even really know her?” Mother asks, her voice slightly condescending as though she’s chiding a child for his innocent take on the world.