“Can I ask you about something?”
“What is it?” I asked.
Mia nibbled on her lower lip. “You’ve never talked to me about your family.” My face must have been a dead giveaway why I didn’t, as she quickly scrambled to add, “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to. It’s just… it’s odd that I never knew your mom was a chef until last week.”
I closed my laptop and leaned back on the chair, crossing my arms. “Why is that odd, Mia?”
Her cheeks flushed under my gaze and she cleared her throat before opening her mouth. “You know everything about me. About my family, my dad, my mom…” She blinked quickly because I knew if she didn’t, she’d cry. “How she… you know.”I know, Princess. I clenched my fist, hiding the urge to haul her over my lap and rub her back. “You even know my friends and teach them. You know I hate eggplants and you still cooked a dish that made me like them!”
She wasn’t making any sense.
Yet, I understood her.
“I want to know about you. Not just your job, the car you drive, the suits you wear or what type of women you like in your bed.” She looked down at her open notes of AP Chemistry. “I want to know you, James.”
My jaw ticked thinking about everything I couldn’t tell her because if I did, she would hate me. She would never see me the same way with her twinkling hazel-green eyes that made my stomach clench. Because whenever she looked at me, I felt more alive than I have ever been for the past thirty-five years of my life. I felt seen.
And because I was a selfish son of a bitch who only cared about himself and his success, I smiled cruelly at her, “You know everything that I want you to know about me, Princess.”
My fist tightened as she frowned at me, her eyes dulling. “But… I don’t. Why can’t you tell me about yourself, James?”
“Because you haven’t earned it yet,” I said harshly.
She blinked at my sharp tone, and,once again, I pushed down the urge to embrace her in my arms.
“Earned it yet?Haven’t I earned it?”
God, she sounded so hopeful and sweet.
I hated myself more than anyone at that moment, because I was going to crush her hope.
Leaning my arms on the marble, I kept my eyes on her face and said, “Just because I buy you pretty clothes and sex toys doesn’t mean I trust you, Princess.”
Mia took a sharp breath, hurt clearly visible on her face. We stared at each other for a few moments, thick silence stretching over us fueled with anger and tension, her fingers clutching the little heart necklace on her chest.
“Of course,” she bit out, her face twisting in pure rage. “I’d have to gag on your oh-so-magical-cock to earn your trust, don’t I? Or do I earn it by spreading my thighs for you and letting you fuck me while I call you Daddy? Which one is it?”
“Watch your tone, Mia—”
“No.” She stood up. “I’ve had enough. I thought you were different, but no, you are just a sick, perverted old guy who just wants to get in my pants.”
She seemed furious, and I didn’t blame her. I had acted out of line, but I didn’t know how to explain to her why I couldn’t open up my heart to her and tell her everything about me.
If I did, I’d lose her.
“Mia…” I stood up, removing my glasses. “What are you doing?”
She was mindlessly throwing everything in her duffle bag that I hadn’t noticed before. She glared at me, zipping it shut. “I’m not going to stay here and let you belittle me by all that earning your trust nonsense. If you didn’t want to answer me, you could’ve just told me you weren’t ready to share and I would’ve understood. I’m not a fucking kid, James.”
“I know you are not a kid,” I said, standing up. My stomach twisted and clenched with nerves. It wasn’t like I didn’t trust her, I did, more than I cared to admit it, but I didn’t want to open up to her. I was afraid of her hating me. Leaving me and crying on her friends’ shoulders, cursing me and never meeting my eyes again. I had lost too many important people in my life, I couldn’t lose her too.
She turned around and seethed, “Then tell me, or at least stop treating me like one.”
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. Seeing her so mad at me for the first time, I didn’t know how and where to start. Especially when her eyes closed off, and I knew she was pulling away. I couldn’t do anything but watch when she picked up the bag and wore her Vans.
“Where are you going, Mia?” I asked, my tone cold, closing the door before she could leave.
“Why should I tell you?” She asked, “You don’t care.”