CHAPTER ELEVEN
It's Thursday, and things have returned to normal. As soon as I get to my desk in the morning, I open my email to a response from Lucian.
Miss Underwood,
I'd like for you to come over tonight to discuss the selections you've made for my bedroom. Please arrive at 8PM.
Regards,
Lucian Reddick, M.D.
Reddick Plastic Surgery
Entitled bastard is the first thing that comes to mind. I can't help but wonder if he even cares that he's making me work longer hours. At least, I get paid for it. My next check should be huge, since I'm able to clock the time that I'm at Lucian's house(within reason). Hopefully, this won't be my last paycheck.
“I got another email from Lucian asking me to come over,” I tell Derrick at lunch.
His jaw instantly tenses from the news. “Are you going to go?”
“I have no choice.” There's no emotion in my words, because I'm now completely numb to the whole Lucian Reddick situation. The power he's held over me is gone. I just hope I can maintain this mentality when I'm face to face with him.
Derrick hesitates, “You do have a choice, Amy. I know it's against the rules, but I can still go with you. There's no reason why you have to see him alone.”
Warmth floods my heart at Derrick's sweet suggestion. He really wants to protect me. It's an endearing thought.
I slide my hand across the table and place it on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I appreciate the offer, but there's no reason why both of us should lose our jobs over this.”
“You're not going to lose your job.” He shakes his head. “Tyra will understand as long as that jerk doesn't call and complain about you.”
“And what makes you think he won't?” I give him an earnest look. “When he breaks the contract, he's going to have to tell her something.”
His expression sulks, then turns hopeful again in the blink of an eye. “Maybe he won't break the contract.”
“We both know that's not how these things turn out.”
***
It's rendezvous time, and I'm strictly business. There were no additional hours after work spent changing my clothes and fussing with my makeup until it's perfect. I'm wearing the same thing I wore to work today: a pair of blue capris with a white button-down shirt and a gray blazer. It's not easy access. There's no way he's getting into my steel-clad chastity belt tonight. I've spent the entire afternoon mentally adding lock after lock to it. Lucian would have to have some romantic, amazing confession of love to break my resolve, and that's definitely not happening.
I arrive on his doorstep promptly at 8PM. Even though I tell myself I'm not interested in him anymore, my heart is still fluttering; my whole body is rigid. Part of me fears that he'll answer the door half-naked again. Will I really be able to resist all of that bulging muscle and perfectly kissable skin? The answer is that I have to. I have to, or else I'm going to keep plummeting down the spiral of depression I've been fighting to claw myself out of ever since I realized that I'm engaged in a meaningless relationship with him.
“Right on time, as always.” Lucian beams at me as he opens the door.
The knot in my chest softens a bit. He's wearing a shirt today. A white button-down shirt with gray slacks. It's the first thing I've seen him in that hasn't immediately made me want to drop my panties. While I still find him undeniably attractive, the fact that I don't instantly want to peel his clothes off means that I might stand some chance of resisting him.
“It's my job to be on time,” I reply curtly, stepping over the threshold.
The next thirty minutes are spent in complete professionalism. Lucian's focus is on the project, sitting next to me and going through my furniture selections. Out of everything I've picked out, his preference leans towards a sled bed with four matching pieces all done in dark cherry.
“Of course, I'll want to go see it physically before we purchase it.” His finger makes a lazy circle in front of my tablet.
“Certainly, Doctor Reddick.” I nod.
“Doctor Reddick?” He quirks an eyebrow at me.
If a look could slice through skin and bone, he'd be in two pieces. I'm not playing games with him anymore. I'm not his submissive.
“Yes, Doctor Reddick,” my words are pointed.
His expression is somewhere between concern and offense. He's not happy that I'm not giving in to him, not being the mousy, little obedient girl he's been interacting with all week.
“Is something wrong?” he asks.
“No.” I try to soften my tone. Even though I feel incredibly bitter towards him, I don't want my bad mood to scare him away before he's even done anything wrong. If we can keep focused on the task at hand, then maybe I can escape his house unscathed for once. Perhaps my obvious disinterest will throw him off enough to make him give me space. “Let's continue.”
I turn my attention back to the tablet and swipe it with my finger to start going over the selections I made for his guest bedroom. As we look at the beds, I keep thinking about the one that's currently in his guest bedroom—the one we first had sex on. It will get moved to storage soon. Stored away like my feelings for him. I'm not sure why I'm thinking about it as such, but in truth, while I'm trying desperately to focus on business, half of the stuff going through my mind revolves around everything that Lucian and I have done up to this point, how he's treated me, how I feel towards him. It's like I can't get away from those thoughts, no matter how hard I try, and there's an ever-present tension from being around him, like the muscles in my neck and upper back are wound so tightly they might snap if I move my head the wrong way. I hate the way it feels. More than anything, I just want our meeting to be over so that I can leave and go home and take a nice hot bath.
“Is that all for today?” Lucian glances over at me when I finish scrolling through the pictures.
“That's it.” I type a few notes into the tablet about which furniture he likes before shutting it down and stuffing it into my purse.
“Shall we go into my bedroom to discuss furniture placement now?”
“That's not really necessary. I'll have Derrick plug the dimensions of the furniture selections you like into the digital blueprint of your house and then send you some layout choices tomorrow.” I stand, preparing to leave.
“I'm pretty sure I'm going to want the sled bed.” Lucian gets up as well. “Since we know how many pieces are in the set, it would probably save you some work if we went and looked at it now. I can tell you where I want the pieces, then you can have that guy put them into the blueprint tomorrow and send it to me. That way, you only need to make one.”
It takes everything in me not to sigh. While I know that what he's saying does make sense, I can't help but feel that there's some ulterior motive in him wanting me to come into the bedroom. Still, it's my job to keep him happy. As long as things stay professional between us, I should at least try to do my job.
“Fine,” I reply, though I'm pretty sure that he can tell I'm not happy about it.
Lucian leads the way, and I blankly stare at the back of his shirt. Soon, I'll be thinking about everything we did in his bedroom together. To be honest, I'm surprised that it's not making me horny. I want him. There's no doubt about it. But for once, my heart trumps my hormones. I know what giving in to him will do to me. I know that he doesn't really care, and for that reason, I've built an emotional wall around myself. He's not breaking down my guard this time.
We get to the bedroom, and I immediately start pointing out where I think the furniture should go. Lucian stands beside me, contemplating my choices and making a few suggestions of his own.
I try not to allow my eyes to linger on the bed for too long. Every time I look at it, I think of being tied up beneath him, of his thick cock pushing into me. It's making me feel things that I don't want to—to have yearnings that I shouldn't. And when I glance over at Lucian, it seems like he's become twice as attractive the moment we stepped inside the room. I hate that I want him. I hate that there's something about him that makes me feel so weak and vulnerable and needy.
It's just hormones. Only hormones. Only because he's the most attractive man you've ever slept with. One of the most attractive men you've ever met. This has nothing to do with logic.
“We make a good team.” Lucian slips behind me and places his hands on my shoulders, kneading into them.
My first instinct is to groan from the pleasure of the massage. I know his hands are magical from the foot massage he gave me when I twisted my ankle. A sane woman would have stood there and enjoyed it. A woman who doesn't entwine her feelings with sex. A woman who is able to separate them. I feel like none of those things right now. His touch only makes me want him more, and I can't allow myself to give in again.
Gathering all the emotional fortitude that I can, I push his hands off of my shoulders, clutch my purse against my body as if I can use it as a shield against him, and lower my eyes to the floor. “Are we done here?”
“I was hoping we weren't.” Lucian steps forward, reaching up a hand to caress my face, but I move away from him. “Are you alright?”
I hug my purse even tighter, all the muscles in my body seeming to tense up, making me feel like a frightened animal being backed into a corner. “I'm fine, Doctor Reddick. If our business is done here, I'd like to go.” I start walking towards the door, but Lucian gets in the way. My eyes meet his chest, but I refuse to look at his face.
“You look like you need to talk.”
“I'm fine.” I brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“I know what not fine looks like, Amy.” He reaches out to me again, this time grabbing me by the shoulders and roughly turning me around. A small gasp escapes my lips as I feel him push me forward, holding me by the shoulders, steering me towards the bed. “We're going to sit down and talk.”
“I'm not interested in talking to you.” I try to pull away from him, but he's too strong.
He doesn't let me go until I'm facing his bed. For a moment, I think he's going to take advantage of me. A deep feminine part of me wants it. I like it when he's rough. I like it when he takes what he wants.
Instead though, he turns me back around, caging me in with his body. When I finally look up at him, his expression is dead serious, and it makes me want to cower.
“Talk to me,” his voice is surprisingly gentle.
“I have nothing to say.” I turn my face away from him.
He grabs my chin, directing my head forward. His eyes are hooded with desire. “Then be with me.”
Lucian leans in to kiss me, and every mechanism in my body seems to freeze. Inside, I'm already crying as his soft lips touch mine. I'm crying because I know I'm about to give in. His mouth is just too sweet. I don't want to resist him. I want to kiss him back and feel his hard cock pressing against me and spread my legs for him like a hoe. Like a hoe. Those words stick in my mind, and I somehow manage to find the strength to push him away. Hard.
He loses his balance and stumbles back. I'd be amazed that I was capable of using such force if I wasn't busy wiping my mouth and glaring at him. The part of me that doesn't care if I lose my job comes out. Rubbing away his kiss is a slight, and I can tell that he took it as such, because he narrows his eyes.
“Did I do something wrong?” He keeps his distance, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You've done plenty,” my voice sounds venomous, full of more disdain than I've ever heard from it before.
“I feel like I'm missing something.”
“I'm not interested in this.” I gesture around his room.
“You're not interested in redecorating my room?” He quirks an eyebrow.
I sigh, drawing my hand up to my temple in frustration. I can't believe the words that are about to come out of my mouth, partly because they're not true and partly because I know they're going to cost me my job. “I'm not interested in you.”
As soon as I say them, a wave of emotion crashes down on me. Tears fly to my eyes at lighting speed. I can't do this anymore. I can't be around him like this. And I definitely don't want him to see me cry again.
I wrap my arms around myself, hugging my purse to my chest as I make a break for the door. Even though my ankle still hurts a little, it doesn't stop me from running. Before I even reach the door though, Lucian's strong arms are around me, pulling me back.
He holds me against him, and I desperately try not to sob as I tell him to let me go. He doesn't. His arms are like iron around me, unyielding. I attempt to pry them off of me, but he doesn't budge.
“Calm down,” he whispers into my ear.
“Please, just let me go,” I whimper.
He kisses the back of my head, which only makes me break down that much more. Soon, I'm sobbing uncontrollably, and I'm hating myself for it. Somehow, Lucian manages to turn me around in his arms, and I surrender completely, burying my face against his chest to cry. The entire time, he softly rakes his fingers through my hair and tries to comfort me. It's absolutely infuriating, especially since he's the problem.
“Are you feeling a little better now?” he asks once I've calmed a bit. He leans back, looking at my face and brushing my tears away with his fingertips. It's so tender that I feel the slightest spark of hope that he cares. This is all an act though. He has done this before. I need to squash that spark before he turns the tables and makes this into something sexual again.
“I'm fine.” I step out of his grasp and am surprised that he allows it.
“Talk to me, okay.” His expression is earnest.
I drop my gaze to the floor, though I don't know why. There's no shame in being truthful. “I can't have sex with you anymore, Lucian.”
“Why not?” He walks away from me and rests his weight against the bed.
“I'm not sure what kind of girl you think I am, but I'm not that girl.” I shake my head. “I don't just give myself to anybody.”
“I'm not just anybody,” his tone is laced with offense.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes as I feel arrogance radiating off of him. “No. You're not just anybody. You're the worst kind. You're the kind of guy who goes through women like underwear and doesn't give a crap what it does to them. And I'm the kind of girl who can't separate emotions from sex. We're like oil and water. We don't go together. And that's why I can't sleep with you anymore.”
“Is that what you think of me?”
“I wouldn't have said it if it wasn't,” my words are biting.
“And what gave you that impression?” He makes a swirling motion in the air with his hand. I can tell that he's on the brink of being pissed off. He definitely doesn't like my assessment of him.
“You don't take no for an answer. The first time we were together, I tried to tell you no, and you wouldn't listen.”
He jerks his head back and raises an eyebrow. “The first time we were together was at Flesh.”
I let out an audible groan. “See, that's a perfect example of what I'm talking about. Flesh. You sleep with a different woman every week. You're a hoebag.”
“A hoebag?” His eyes widen in shock at the name calling. “You made that appointment to come see me. If I'm a hoebag, then what does that make you?”
I grit my teeth, avoiding his gaze. “It makes me curious. That was the first and last time I'll ever do anything like that.”
We're both silent for several moments. The tension in the room is palpable, and all I can think about is how I want to leave. This has turned into a complete nightmare.
“Look,” I say finally. “I can understand if you don't want to continue working with me now. Things have been blown way out of proportion. They've gone the way they never should have.” I shake my head. “I know we can't work together anymore, but my company is good at what it does. If you'd let Derrick take over from here, or if you'd allow me to transfer your files to another designer, we can continue the process, and there won't even be a blip in the schedule.”
“Cute. You think I'd do you a favor.” He crosses one leg over the other and his arms over his chest.
All hope leaves me, and I begin to feel upset again. Why, I'm not sure. This was the expected outcome. He's going to cancel the contract and have one of our competitors finish the job.
“This isn't a favor. I'm telling you the truth.”
“Do you seriously think I chose your company because I thought that Environ Design was any better than the others?”
“You didn't?” My breath catches as my mind instantly goes into overdrive trying to process what he's saying. It could have so many meanings. More than likely though, they're all basal desire.
“You know,” he relaxes his stance a bit, “you wouldn't have slept with me again if you didn't want to. You keep coming back for a reason, and I don't think it has much to do with your job. What is it you want from me, Amy?”
My mouth falls agape at his assumption. I'm suddenly speechless. No logical answer will come to me. None that doesn't sound absolutely ridiculous, at least. I'm too embarrassed to speak.
“I know you're not just some random slut,” Lucian continues. “And you're right, I'm definitely not a saint. But I do like you.
“You said it yourself. We're like oil and water. Just from being around you for this short time, I can tell that you're not used to the things that I...need. You like what I do to you though. I can see it in your eyes. When I don't have you blindfolded, that is.” He cocks his head to the side briefly and his lips quirk into a smirk.
I can feel my face heating up from the mention of the things we've done together. It feels so taboo and forbidden. Even though I don't want to admit it, he's right. I've enjoyed having sex with him, despite the fact that it's emotionally torn me apart. When I'm beneath him, I feel alive, when he does things to me that no man has ever dared to. I wouldn't let anyone else do those things to me—tie me up and blindfold me and play with me like a toy. Just him. And if I walk away from him, I know I'll never experience those things again. Perhaps that would be for the best though.
“You've caught a glimpse of my world. What I do at Flesh. Let me take you a little deeper, and if you don't like what you see, you can go.”
The proposition sounds so simple, but I know it's not. Nothing is simple with Lucian Reddick.
“Take me deeper?” I ask, afraid of the answer.
Lucian uncrosses his legs. “This Saturday is Fleshfest. It's basically a fetish party that Flesh holds every year. You should come with me.”
“Come with you.” I feel like an idiot, parroting what he says. My brain is still trying to process the switch from argument to invitation. Is he asking me out on a date? And ugh, I don't want to be involved with this BDSM thing anymore...But I do want to be involved with him. It's sickening for me to think it, but I do still want him. If this is the only way... “What's Fleshfest like?”
“It's fun.”
“Well, I get that.” I give him a sarcastic look. “I mean, what happens there? You said it's a fetish party.”
“Oh.” He nods. “Well, a lot happens there. There are vendors and entertainment. A lot of stuff you wouldn't see anywhere else?”
“Like?”
“Like...” He looks up to the ceiling, thinking. “Well, there's a suspension show, and aerial silks, and of course there's a dungeon.”
The word sends a shiver rolling down my spine. I know all about dungeons. I've read up on them and watched enough porno with Janice to practically be an expert on the subject.
“And would you want to take me to the dungeon?” I quirk an eyebrow.
His smile broadens. “If you'd like. I'm not taking you to pressure you into anything. I just want to give you a better glimpse inside of my world, into the things I like to do. I know you're not very experienced, and I've been trying to take things slow with you.” He pauses, suddenly looking distant. “Eventually though, I'd like to do other things with you.”
“Other things. Like what?”
His eyes meet mine as if he has just snapped out of a dream. “There's no point in spoiling the surprise. Come with me. You'll like it.”
My shoulders slump as I feel my resolve slipping away. This is my chance to save my job. Not only that, but I'll get to spend more time with Lucian. Isn't that what I originally wanted, to be more involved with him? This is kind of like an introduction to us dating—the opportunity to have a real relationship with him.
“What if I don't like it?” I ask, feeling my insecurities getting the better of me.
“If you don't like it, then you don't like it.” He shrugs as if he's unable to come up with a better answer.
“Fleshfest.” I bite my bottom lip, thinking.
“How about I pick you up at eight? Things don't really get exciting there until around ten. That way, you can be there early to ease into things. It will be less overwhelming.”
“No,” I reply quickly. The thought of being alone in a vehicle with him makes my anxiety skyrocket, probably because it gives him control over how long I'm forced to stay. “I'll take my own car.”
“So you'll go?” He pushes himself off of the bed, giving me that charming, panty-melting smile that makes me want to see him happy all the time.
“A look into your world.” It feels like nothing coherent is coming out of my mouth. I'm so overwhelmed and confused and excited, all at the same time. “Yes, I'll go.”
“Excellent.” He approaches me, and for a moment, I think he's going to kiss me. Instead, he wraps an arm around me, turning me towards the door and placing his hand on the small of my back to lead me out. “I have a full schedule tomorrow, so I won't be able to meet with you. I look forward to seeing you at Fleshfest on Saturday. You can get the address from their website. Text me when you arrive, or just ask for me at the door. Everyone there knows who I am.”
“Alright.” I nod, allowing him to usher me out.
I'm thankful that he has the decency not to hit on me after such an intense and emotional conversation. Maybe he's not such a bad guy after all. Perhaps he does actually care. That thought gives me hope, though I'm not sure what for. It feels like we're far too different; not really compatible. He made it seem like he wants to try to be with me though. And I do like him a lot—want to be with him, too. This should be a dream come true, but somehow, it just doesn't feel right.