LANA

 

 

How could he do this to me? What fucking asshole lets the girl he fucks and presumably has feelings for walk right into a trap like that?

I feel transported back to the day in his office weeks ago, when he humiliated me by bringing me to the edge of orgasm without following through, sending me out like a dog with its tail between its legs. The shame and frustration of that day have never gone completely away, even after all the wonderful times we've had together since. I know that being handled and controlled by him in this way is a huge part of the appeal for me, but when it casts its shadows on the things that are unrelated to what we do in the bedroom, it leaves a bitter aftertaste.

I feel so fucking betrayed. Did he plan this all along? Was this all part of his evil master plan to show me who's boss? To punish me for the way I treated him when we first met? Could he really be that evil?

I evade the remaining group of aspiring entrepreneurs and head for the stairs instead of the elevator, so that I can leave right away. When I jog down the first flight of stairs, I recognize his footfall on the steps behind me,  closing in faster than I am able to descend each flight.

"Lana!"

It's that commanding tone, the exact tone that only days ago would have had me on my knees within moments, my core throbbing with sick desire for degradation and the pleasure that comes with it.

But it doesn't work on me right now. Instead of obeying his command, I hurry up and make sure to fly down the stairs even faster than before.

"Lana, wait!" he growls, closing in on me. "You stop right now."

I don't want to wait, but when his strong hand clasps around my right upper arm, I have no choice but to stop and whirl around just as the first few tears are streaming down my face.

"You asshole!" I snap at him. "You fucking ass-"

"Hush!" he warns, widening his eyes and clenching his hand around my arm so much that it hurts. "Calm down!"

I bite my lip, glaring up at him while the tears keep coming. "How could you do this to me?"

He shakes his head, his expression changing.

"I didn't do anything to you," he says, his voice now soft and calm. "I told you before what I think about not including local businesses in your app. You knew I don't like the idea the way you were going about it."

"Still, you should have backed me up!" I protest.

"Why should I? Because you're my girlfriend?"

I'm dumbfounded. The fact that he just referred to me as his girlfriend sends a warm shiver through my heart. We never talked about us and what we are to each other, so hearing him call me his girlfriend is beyond exciting - if it wasn’t for the circumstances.

Our eyes lock onto each other, and I can see he's equally caught off guard by his words. He clears his throat and loosens his grip around my arm.

"Look, Lana," he continues. "I don't have much time now because the next group is set to present right after you, but-"

"Yeah, I'm sure you'll give them your support! Let's see if they agree to turn everything into another marketing platform like-"

"Lana!" he interrupts, pulling me closer until I'm pressed against his muscular body, wrapped up in his incredible scent and his intense gaze. "Focus!"

I shoot a glare up at him.

"Nothing's said and done," he adds. "You're not out of the game yet. But I told you: no special treatment on my part. I can't invest in a project that I don't support one hundred percent. Don't you understand that?"

My lips quiver as I suppress another wave of tears that are forcing their way out.

"Why don't you support my project one hundred percent?" I ask, my voice thin and whiny.

"Because it's not perfect," he says. "Yet."

He casts a quick look upstairs.

"Lana," he says, turning back to me. "You have to trust me on this. I'm not doing anything to punish you. I believe in you and in your project. But I want it to be perfect, so I can stand behind it. It needs a little more work."

He locks me into place with his gaze.

"I want you happy, and I want you to succeed," he adds. "I want nothing more."

"Nothing more?" I ask, my voice still quivering.

He clears his throat, casting another look back up the stairs. "I have to go back. We'll talk later."

I'm too startled to move when he leans in for a kiss. It's just a peck on the lips, but more than we've ever done before in public.

My eyes follow him as he takes the stairs up to the eleventh floor, two steps at once. I've never seen him in a suit this exquisite before. He looks staggeringly handsome. I hate that, because I'm trying to be angry at him.

But what if he's right? I have to consider that, too, but I decide that now is not the right time for that. I'm angry and tired and just want to get out of this place, away from his domineering presence and the world he lives and thrives in.

A world that may have no room for me.

The first thing I do when I return to my dorm is change into something comfortable. I hate formal clothing with a passion, and let out a deep sigh of relief when I'm hugged by my comfortable sweatpants and matching sweater.

Celia was out when I got back to the room, but returns just as I lay down on my bed, lounging with my Kindle. Her appearance stresses me. I was hoping to get a few minutes by myself before I'd have to talk about today’s events.

She beams at me. "How was it?"

I sigh and tell her everything while she removes her many layers of winter clothes. I don't leave out anything, as painful as it is to relive the humiliation Jackson put me through. While talking, I realize that having to share these things with Celia isn't all that bad. It actually feels good to get them off my chest. This was the second time Jackson let me down big-time, but at least I can talk about this one with another person and get a second opinion of what to think about his disappointing behavior. 

"He talked you down in front of everybody?" she exclaims when I'm done. "What an asshole!"

"Right?" I agree, sitting up on my bed with my legs dangling over the edge. "Though, he didn't exactly talk me down. He just pointed out a few things that he didn't like about it."

"Yeah, but he could've told you before!"

I lower my head, biting my lips as I think about what to say next. He did tell me beforehand, I just didn't listen.

"Well, to be honest, he did," I admit to Celia. "But what he's proposing would change my project too much in a direction that I just don't like."

Celia tilts her head to the side quizzically. "Like how?"

"You know how I want to introduce this social app, for neighbors and communities to get together and solve local problems, help each other out and make it easier to socialize without having to knock on every single door or rely on-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Celia interrupts me with a wave of her hand. "You don't have to repeat your speech, I've heard it before. But what was Mr. Perfect's objection?"

"He wants me to include local businesses," I say. "You know, like food stores, barber shops, bakers, that kind of thing."

"And?"

"Well, he said that local businesses are just as much part of a community as the people who live there, which is true. But," I clear my throat, hesitating for a moment before I continue. I'm repeating his exact words as if they were my own. As if I believed in them myself. "I mean, he said that they could also function as financial support, because they could pay for advertising via the app. You know, make people aware of their existence, or promote special offers they may have at the moment."

"Or create special offers for locals," Celia adds, raising her hand.

"Um, yeah, maybe even that," I say.

She looks at me, folding her arms in front of her chest and raising her left eyebrow. "And you don't like the idea, because...?"

"I don't want this to turn into an advertising platform," I explain. "If all people find on there are ads for supermarkets or some other shit trying to convince them to buy stuff they don't need, it's just gonna be annoying and will lose it initial purpose, you know?"

"Mhm," Celia makes, nodding. "But couldn't you add some kind of limitation to that? Like categories or limits on how often the stores are allowed to advertise on there or something. Or let users limit its visibility or something?"

I skewer her with a look. "Are you agreeing with him?"

Celia raises her hands in defense. "No, I'm not saying what he did was right or anything. Just that his objection might be something to think about. A little. Maybe."

She shrugs, grinning at me helplessly. "I mean, he's an expert after all."

"But it's my project!" I insist. "And I don't like the idea -- at all!"

"Fine," she says, frowning at me. "All I'm saying is that there might be a way around it, you know. A way for you to shape the project in a way that makes both of you happy."

"Both of us," I whisper. She makes it sound as if this was a joint venture between him and I.

Does she have a point? After all, if it wasn't for him, I'd have never come up with a real proposal in the first place, I'd never have been at this presentation today, and I wouldn't even think about doing anything other than following in my family's footsteps. Footsteps that may not fit me at all.

"I'm gonna grab a bite to eat," Celia says. "You wanna come with me?"

I'm inclined to shake my head no, but my stomach is furiously growling. I haven't had a bite to eat all day because I was so nervous due to the presentation. Maybe that's why I'm feeling so shitty right now. Food may help me to see things from a different perspective.

Or at least help with that nauseating feeling that keeps me from thinking straight.