“A taste. But if you don’t mind, I’m going to borrow her from you,” he says with such nobility that I almost wonder if he secretly has a twin, a polite twin, who he’s assigned to spend the night with me while he’s off assaulting other barely-legal women.
“Sure you two don’t want some company?” Janice asks with a sly smile. “I’m a fun gal.”
“I’m sure you are, Janice, but we’re fine for now.”
She hides her disappointment well, and Baron pulls me away and onto the dance floor. I’m seized by a terrible panic as he takes my arms and drapes them around his neck. Oh God, no.
“Relax,” he purrs. “Don’t tell me you’ve never danced with a guy before?”
This is so embarrassing. I pretend to see something interesting across the room, but Baron turns my face back to his. His smile makes me want to shrivel up and die.
“You haven’t, have you? Christ, Pixie, you see? This is my fucking point.”
“Oh, you have a point to all this?” I’m pissed. “And frumpy? How in the world could you call me frumpy—”
“What did you see when you were outside?” he asks.
“Boobs, boobs and more boobs,” I reply flatly. “And some guys with cigars.”
“Bill Clinton vibes, right?” he chuckles.
“What does that mean?”
Baron just shakes his head. “Christ, you really are young, aren’t you?”
“You know I am.”
“True.” He nods. “And I like it.”
Oh, God. I try to pull away, but his grip on my waist is unbreakable. If only I was an X-Man (X-Woman?) or something and I could teleport back home or turn myself into a cloud of smoke and float out the front door.
“What you saw out there were a bunch of girls who have chosen to live their lives in a certain way,” he explains. I don’t like his tone. It’s like a high school counselor who thinks you don’t understand how to make your own decisions yet. “They make a living off their bodies. Submit to men for money and gifts. They call themselves sugar-babies, companions, but we both know what they are.”
“And what’s that?”
Baron smiles. “Prostitutes.”
Ugh, of course the would-be rapist is also a misogynist. I know it’s pointless at this point to try and get away from him physically, so I just look away and make my disdain obvious.
“Oh, you think that’s wrong for me to say?” he laughs. “It’s their body their choice?”
“Something like that,” I reply.
“Is that a life you would like for yourself?” he asks. “Maybe with a guy like Harry?”
My eyes snap back to his as he reignites the anger inside of me. Suddenly, I’m feeling far less vulnerable and wishing I could get my hands on a knife.
“Are you…calling me a prostitute?”
I know he’s an asshole, but I’m still somehow shocked when he just shrugs and smiles back at me. “Let’s see. I’m a rich man, you prance around my house wearing next to nothing, clearly trying to get my attention. If the shoe fits, princess. But I gotta tell you something; you are no Cinderella.”
9
Pixie
“And you’re no Prince Charming,” I spit back, fuming. Still, I keep my voice down. It’s bad enough that I’m here arguing with Baron; I don’t need the rest of the eyes in the room on me.
“No, I’m more like Khal Drogo.” He smirks. “I know what I want, and I take it.”