He talked constantly during sex. I endured stories about his private jet, his dozens of vacation homes spread across the globe, and the celebrities he had dinner parties with. He cared so damn much about what other people thought of him, fuck, it had to be exhausting. And it was ironic. He cared what I thought, but that didn’t mean I mattered to him.
Sure, he wanted me to see him exclusively, but it wasn’t because he enjoyed my company. He thought I was the best-looking girl at the club, and I was owed to him. And he didn’t want to share his toy with any of the other boys.
I listened to his footsteps as he stomp-paced the room and I tried not to smile when he tossed out a new, higher offer. He was probably going to make me pay for forcing up the price, but he was an idiot. All those nights of him throwing his wealth in my face meant I knew what he could afford. Plus, I wasn’t going to put up with his shit for the same price I could get from some other guy on the waitlist, who probably was less of an asshole.
“I accept,” I said.
Nina hadn’t made it out of the room before I heard his belt buckle jingling.
As expected, Mr. Gold was pissed and took it out on me, using his favorite weapon of all—his words. Humiliating me made this small man feel big. It was the ultimate power trip, but the joke was on him. He could call me every dirty, foul thing he dreamed up, and I still wouldn’t care. He meant nothing to me, and neither did his words.
My skin was so thick, it was damn-near bulletproof.
He settled in on bitching about the condom he was forced to wear. “Why do I pay all this money and still not get to fuck you how I want, huh? It’s bullshit.”
It wasn’t bullshit. Lord only knew where else he’d stuck his dick, and I didn’t want whatever venereal disease he might have. Rather than tell him that, my tone was flat and firm. “Club rules.”
He got himself so worked up, he came a lot faster than he meant to.
As he threw out the condom and did up his pants, I lay on the table, staring into the black satin of my blindfold, ready for him to be gone. In fact, I was ready for him to be gone for good. No amount of money made my time with him acceptable anymore.
“We’re done here,” I said.
He sounded annoyed. “I’ll leave when I’m ready.”
“Don’t schedule any more appointments with me.”
All noise stopped. “What?”
I choked the lie out in a syrupy-sweet voice. “I’ve enjoyed our time together, but I think it’d be better if you found someone new.”
“I don’t want someone new.” His footsteps brought him closer, and I instinctively moved away from the sound, as much as my restrained hands would let me. Gone was his smug, arrogant tone, replaced by an apologetic one. “I was a little mean tonight, and perhaps I went too far, but you know I didn’t mean it. I’m not even thinking when half the stuff comes out of my mouth.”
He was a goddamn liar, but he was too big of a client to say anything. Besides, maybe one of the other girls would want his money. I didn’t believe for one second he hadn’t meant what he’d said. The way a man talked to you on the table, when he knew there’d be no consequences, when he thought he owned you . . . it was his truest, most unfiltered self.
“I understand,” I said. “But, I’m sorry, I’m not interested in doing this again.” I left off closing it with ‘sir’ because that was a level of respect he couldn’t earn, no matter how much money he had.
“I can tone it down.” There was an edge of desperation.
“Thank you for the evening.” I opened and closed my hands rapidly, sending out the club distress signal. Upstairs in his office, Julius and the sales assistants monitored each room on closed-circuit cameras, and now that I’d sounded the alarm, it would only take ten seconds before someone came to my rescue. “Goodbye, Mr. Gold.”
I stood under the awning outside Regan’s apartment door, staring at the panel of buttons on the side of the building, and tried not to feel nervous. After Mr. Gold had been escorted to the payment room, I cleaned up, got dressed, and discovered a text message on my phone.
Silas: She’s awake. Come over when you’re done.
The feeling of dread chased me the whole ride over to her place and worsened as I hesitated by the building intercom. If they were going to forbid me from dating, our arrangement would be over.
I stabbed the button with a finger, and a few seconds later, the main door buzzed.
Silas was waiting for me in the open doorway to her apartment, but I couldn’t read his expression. His icy blue eyes were a puzzle I couldn’t solve. He stepped back, allowing me to come inside, and shut the door behind me.
The lights were off in the room, and a few candles cast their flickering glow up onto the walls. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought this was romantic, but it was likely for Regan’s benefit. The scentless candles provided just enough light for Silas without aggravating her migraine.
She sat on the couch, wearing a sweatshirt, flannel pants, and her hair twisted back into a ponytail, in stark contrast to my silk shirt and sequined skirt. There were dark circles under her eyes and her makeup-free skin was pale, but she still looked beautiful.
I kept my voice soft. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she said.