Chapter 35
Elene
The pain is all too visible on his face when he speaks about his parents. I've never seen anyone this tortured, and it makes me question if I’ve been fair about my own judgment of him — or men like him.
I’ve always envied those who could afford the luxuries he seemingly takes for granted. I have no idea how rich he really is, but the mere fact that he's a VIP member of this club tells me that he’s among the upper echelon. If that wasn’t a dead giveaway to his wealth, then his tailored custom-designed suits, his sleek-looking brand name wristwatch, and the polished dress shoes he kicked off on the floor when we attacked each other certainly are.
Damon has appeared in the same unmistakable high quality threads since the first time we met, and there is no doubt that he exudes a power reserved for the wealthy. It’s been like that since he let me undress him for the first time. Admittedly, our routine has evolved, so that I'm no longer a passive participant during our play time, but an active player who gets to take and give just as much as he does. Once, a button ripped off of his shirt when I was hastily stripping it off his marvelous body, and we both laughed about it. He spanked me – hard – but in a playful manner that only made me more hungry for him.
This man is turning me upside down in a way he shouldn't. He makes me act inane and clumsy, and being around him turns me into a giggly mess, like a lovestruck teenager....
I shake my head to shut up the voices echoing inside my head.
He's a client. A client. A special client, okay. But still. There shouldn't be any room for confusion here.
Despite the intimacy we share, despite the raw and honest side he just revealed, despite the trust he puts in me to keep his secret safe, I shouldn’t be confusing our relationship for anything other than what it is: a client and call girl business deal.
I can sense his discomfort at sharing such a personal detail about his past with me, and I know only one way to ease this concern from his mind.
"I understand," I say in a soothing voice. "I mean... I don't know what it's like to have parents in prison, or even anything about the whole drug-using part, but... I know what it's like to despise the people who brought life to you."
Damon sits up then, supporting himself on his elbows. He directs his full attention to me, cocking his head to the side in question. "What did they do to you?"
His question appears spiked with two conflicting emotions, possessive anger and worry. He appears visibly upset about the idea of anyone hurting me, even though his voice was soft and calm when he posed the question.
I sit up, too, so that we’re at eye-level, and place my hand on his thigh in a calming gesture.
"I wasn't neglected the way you were," I tell him. "And I don't hate my mother. If anything, I feel kind of sorry for her. My father left us when I was still a toddler. Just walked out of our lives, leaving my mother with two small children."
"Fucking asshole," Damon hisses, not even trying to hide his anger. "I'm sorry, but-"
"No need to be sorry," I quickly assure him. "He is a fucking asshole, and if I knew where he was, I'd march right up to him and give it to him straight."
He nods, his face still strained with anger. "What about your mother?"
I sigh. "She's a hopeless romantic, despite all of this. I've had two official stepdads since my father left, and a lot of unofficial ones in between. She declared each and every single one of them to be the true love of her life."
"That's... almost admirable."
"Is it?" I offer a solemn laugh. "To be honest, I haven't quite decided yet whether to envy or pity my mother."
It's hard to read the expression on his face. There's a hint of a smile when he looks at me, one that gives the impression there's something he wants to say. Whatever it is, he can't bring himself to say it.
I return his look with an equally quiet smile, suddenly reminded of the fact that I'm naked, and thirsty.
"How about that drink now?" I ask. "You still have some time before you have to leave, right?"
He nods. "Definitely. Let's get your well-deserved Manhattan."
"Well-deserved?" I repeat, as he helps me up on my feet. "Are you saying I did a good job tonight?"
He throws me a sinister smirk before wrapping his arms around me again. He pulls my naked body against his, and plants a sensual kiss on my unsuspecting lips. It awakens an insatiable craving that's still nestled deep inside my core, despite the erotic time we just spent together.
"Does this feel like work?" he asks, his gray eyes locking onto mine.
I shake my head. "Not at all."
And that's the problem, right there. It is work. I shouldn't want to be lingering here after we're done, and I certainly shouldn't be daydreaming about this man, when for all I know, he could disappear from my life at any moment without owing me anything but the payment for today’s services. He's still paying an extra fee to reserve this room for just the two of us every single night. I need to remember that. We have an agreement between us, a contract, and he’s paying a lot of money to secure our time together.
It's a business deal, not a romantic relationship.
But it's so fucking hard to accept that.