Chapter 7
“New info came in,” said the text from Vincent. “Next Aviary meeting is at Crow’s house in the West Hills. This is going to be our big chance to find evidence. Hope you’re ready to put that sneaky body to good use.”
Nala looked up from her phone and stared into her half-eaten bowl of oatmeal. I wish I had work today. As much as she liked a good day off to rest and recharge, she hated sitting around that crappy house. She couldn’t afford to go out and sit in a café for a while. The weather was too shitty to go to the park – besides, last she checked, a new homeless camp had set up there. Nala often wasn’t that bothered by them, but her last few strolls down a busy avenue led to her being harassed more often than not. A girl could only take so many dick flashes and requests to smile.
Finally, she replied, oatmeal spoon in her other hand. “Sounds good. Tell me when.”
“Tomorrow.”
Oh, joy. Work and then tearing up Crow’s fancy mansion. Where would Nala find the time?
“How are you doing? It’s been a couple of days.”
Ah, shit. Vincent wasn’t getting clingy, was he? Ever since Nala finally snuck out Friday night, she had been avoiding texting him, even if she had a question he could quickly answer. I think I inspired him too much. When Nala told him to get over his shame for being human, she hadn’t anticipated him focusing his romantic efforts on her. What is a girl to do? A handsome, athletic billionaire wanted her pussy 24/7. In a perfect world, Nala would be counting her good fortune and calling her mom up to brag. However, this wasn’t a perfect world. There were many barriers left up between them, and besides…
There was no way they could ever pursue a real relationship until this Aviary thing was over.
Men. They were so high maintenance.
Because she wasn’t being tortured enough, Kathy and Steven stopped by to shoot the Mary-Jane breeze with Patrick in the living room. Nala pulled out headphones to block out their asinine conversations, but she couldn’t escape that sweet, heinous smell of marijuana as it sparked up and seeped deep into the living room walls. The worth of this place is totally shot. It being Portland, however, probably meant the shoddy house was only worth 500k instead of 600k.
Once she finished up her meal, she escaped into her closet, since that was better than being subjected to the pothead triplets. Nala curled beneath a blanket and played on her new phone. This thing is cooler than I took for granted. Vincent had bought her an unlimited data plan, meaning she could look up anything on the internet that she wanted. Watch videos. Listen to music. Play on social media. Finally, after who knew how long, Nala was finally starting to feel like a real young adult. Too bad she couldn’t print from her phone and still had to go to the library to do that.
While she perused an article about the dying bee plight, her phone buzzed with another message from Vincent.
“I have something for you. It was supposed to be delivered to your house, but there was a miscommunication and it was delivered to my office instead. I’m leaving early. You home?”
“You don’t have to do that. You can give it to me the next time you see me.”
“I’d like to give it to you before tomorrow.”
“Maybe later.”
She thought that would mean later that evening. Maybe that night. Not five minutes later when she heard someone knock on the door and one of her stoned housemates stumble to answer.
By the time Nala realized that it might be Vincent, it was too late. She was up in her closet, but her closet door was also opening without her permission.
“There she is!” Patrick said, his finger pointing right down at a mortified Nala. “This is her room! Have fun!”
Oh. My. God.
Nala’s mouth dropped open so Vincent’s wouldn’t have to. His eyes bulged, however, taking in the sight of Nala’s bullshit of a “room.” Did not help her ego that he was dressed in his work outfit, slacks crisp and burgundy shirt hiding beneath a plain black suit jacket. She could smell his aftershave all the way down there. This is it. This is the pinnacle of my shame. Nala had to look away before she cried.
“I, uh…” Vincent pulled a hand from his pocket. Whatever he had intended to give her remained in his pants. For once it’s not his dick. Oh, God, why did she look there?
“This has happened.” Nala forced herself up, nearly knocking her head into the closet rod holding all her clothes, including some of the nice dresses Vincent had given her. “Get a good look right now. I live in a closet.”
“What?”
Nala had never been forthcoming about that. It was not any of Vincent’s business, although surely he had assumed she rented a whole bedroom like a decent human being. Now he faced the brutal truth. Nala, his fuck buddy and sugar baby, was living in a dilapidated house for potheads and barely had a closet space to call her own.
“Okay, get the closet jokes out of your system now. I’ve heard them all. Just do it.”
“Nala. Get out of there.”
“Nala, come out of the closet? I didn’t know you were a lesbian fetishist, Vincent.”
“Nala.”
She pushed him out of the way and stepped into the hall, refusing to let her wounded pride show.
“Were you ever going to tell me about this?”
“Why the hell would I? You’re not my boyfriend.”
He stepped back, as if her words stung. You’re not. Just because I fuck you doesn’t mean we’re serious. Nala was having a devil of a time keeping eye contact with him. “Nala,” he said again, this time more evenly. “This isn’t okay. This isn’t healthy. Honestly, I’m shocked. These people…” He glanced at the pot party going on in the living room, as if Nala’s “boyfriend” wouldn’t give a shit – hell, they probably hoped he would join in. “These people shouldn’t be doing this to you,” he hissed.
“Would you step off?” Nala had half a mind to stick her finger in his chest. His hard, muscular chest that spent most of last night rubbing against her breasts. Fuuuuck.
Surely he noticed how embarrassed she was becoming, right? Apparently not. “Come on, Nala. Pack up your most important things. We can get the rest later. You’re paid through the rest of the month, right?”
“What?”
Vincent reached in and started grabbing hangers full of clothes. “Do you have a suitcase we can put these in?”
“What?”
He swung toward her, that composed face now turning into something more… bereaved. “You’re coming to live with me, Nala. I can’t let this situation continue.”
“Who the fuck are you!” Yet she stood there, probably in shock, watching this big ol’ businessman pull down a small rolling suitcase from the top shelf. Vincent emptied the contents and started stuffing it with the clothes he held in his hands. “What are you doing? I can’t go live with you!”
“Nala.” He snatched her wrist and brought her close to him, his minty breath consuming her face. That’s not all I want him to consume… wait, what am I thinking… “Stop this. Stop being so stubborn. You don’t have to stay with me long-term. Come stay with me until we can find you a place more suitable.”
She didn’t want to argue. God knew she wanted a new place to live… but with Vincent? Even if it was only temporary, that sounded like a recipe for a plague to end the ages. Besides, I don’t need him acting like a knight in shining armor. That only complicated what relationship they had. Nala would feel like shit, and, well, maybe Vincent would think she somehow owed him.
“You ever think that maybe there’s no such thing as gender?” Patrick, high as a fucking kite, asked the air before him. “Oh! Or maybe each of us are all genders. Yeah, I’d like to believe that I’m all genders… and you too Nala…” he reached out for her, but she was too quick for his touch. “You’re a budding goddess of gender equality.”
“What the fuck?”
“Nala, please. My car is out front.”
“And this guy here! I don’t know who you are, man, but you’re super pretty. Would you be my girlfriend?”
“Nala!”
“All right!” She kicked open the suitcase and started dumping her underwear and T-shirts in as quickly as possible. “Get me the fuck out of here!”
She may not have owned a lot, but it felt like an eternity getting her shit out of the closet and into Vincent’s car.
***
By nightfall, Nala’s suitcase and assorted bags of clothes and items were shoved into a corner of Vincent’s loft. He promised to clean space out of a closet for her, no pun intended, but until then, she was left with living out of a suitcase… which was slightly better than her last situation.
In the meantime, she told him the story of how she had come to Portland months ago, searched high and low for a place she could even dream of affording… and how every one of those places dried up because she wasn’t best friend material enough for them. Eventually she took what nobody else would even touch: Patrick’s coat closet. It wasn’t home, but it was warm and dry.
Vincent glared at her the whole time she told this tale, as if he couldn’t imagine being so poor that he had to stoop so low as to live in a pothead’s closet. Of course he doesn’t have to think about those things. He’s a billionaire. Had been a millionaire at least for a while. Probably grew up upper middle class and always had the biggest bedroom in the house. Sigh.
“I’ll buy out the rest of your lease,” he promised. “We’ll get you set up somewhere much better, if you don’t want to stay here. Would a one bedroom apartment downtown be good enough?”
Nala sat on the couch, curled up into a tiny ball of rage as she thought about what Vincent was trying to do for her. Don’t make me owe you, asshole. “Even the rent alone is outrageous. Last time I looked, downtown apartments cost like a thousand bucks a month.”
“I’m not talking about renting. I’m talking about buying you a place. I’ll invest in the taxes so you don’t have to worry about that. Pay for your food and the electric bill.”
“Are you crazy?” Nala sat up, almost blinded by all the lights turned on in there. She had never seen Vincent’s loft so bright. “That’s a couple hundred grand, at least!”
“It’s nothing, if it means you’re happy.”
“I won’t be happy with that kind of arrangement,” she mumbled.
“Fine. Two bedrooms. That’s my final offer.”
Nala couldn’t be more exasperated if she tried. “That’s not my problem, and you know it.”
“Then what in the world is your problem?”
He sat at his dining table, sorting through his mail, still dressed in his business best – although the jacket was hung up in the closet he promised to clean out for her. “Nothing.” Nala wasn’t going to argue with him right now. Emotions are still too high. If Nala pushed this issue, she might make a bigger ass out of herself than she usually did. That would be a feat.
“Look, don’t worry about putting me out. I’m not here during the day anyway. You can have the run of the place. Bathrooms are yours to use. Feel free to stock whatever you want in the kitchen. Cook whenever you want, although don’t worry about tonight. I’ll order us something.”
Nala rolled her eyes, pulling a pillow down to her edge of the couch and looking around for a blanket. She was ready for a nap after all that crap.
“What are you doing?”
“This is my bed, ain’t it? Last I checked you don’t have a guest room. Please point me in the direction if you do, though. Otherwise I’m claiming this couch in the name of the great state of Nala Nazarov, one of the final frontiers real estate Xavier Crow has yet to touch.”
Vincent tossed his mail onto the table. “Don’t be stupid. Of course you can sleep with me.”
“Oh, I have every assumption that says I would be allowed, even welcomed to do that.” Vincent would probably like it. He’s been aching for a proper sleepover ever since he decided his boner for me was more than okay. Yet there was a reason Nala kept leaving before the cuddle party could totally start. She was not going to push herself now. “But I’m not interested. Probably a bad idea.”
“Why?”
“Come off it, Vincent. You know we should keep things separate. Especially if this is only temporary. When you buying me that apartment, again?”
Although she didn’t turn around to find out for herself, she could feel his glare burrowing into the back of her skull.
“I’ll look into it when I can. Possibly starting tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
Vincent grumbled into the back of his hand before scooting his chair and getting up. “You can be a pain in the ass, you know. Not because I want to find you a new place to live, or because you’re staying here for now, but because you’re such a stubborn ass about it.”
Nala crossed her arms over the blanket enshrouding her. Where’s the TV remote? Time I took this big bad boy for a spin. For once, she didn’t mean Vincent. “I have my boundaries. Don’t press me.”
“Boundaries are one thing, Nala. You’re pushing me away.”
“As we established earlier, you ain’t my boyfriend, now are you?”
“No. No, I’m not.” He stood behind her, finger tracing a gentle line down her side. What the? “But I should at least be your friend by this point. After all that crap you said to me last night? What makes you think you can keep getting away with closing off your heart and pushing everyone away?”
Nala tightened her hold on herself. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”
Vincent rounded the couch and sat down by her feet, reaching into his pants pocket and withdrawing a small, rectangular black box. Is that… “This is what I had come by to give you.”
Nala was afraid to sit up. Whatever lurked in that box was nothing good.
“Don’t give me that look. Stop stewing in your perceived misfortunes and learn how to take a gift.”
Scoffing, Nala tossed back the blanket and sat up in a flash. Her legs swung around, her hands disappearing beneath her thighs as she regarded Vincent with a half-interested look. “All right, lay the diamond earrings on me.”
“They’re not earrings.” Vincent opened the box in front of her face. “Nor diamonds. Those things wouldn’t suit you.”
Nala tried to not look at the contents. Something glistened, catching her eye and then her full attention as she realized a long, silver chain illuminated in the loft lights.
“What is…”
Vincent pulled it out of the box with one hand and pulled back her hair with the other. Her neck was barely exposed because of her hoodie, but somehow, Vincent managed to get the silver choker around her throat. Thank God it was adjustable, because initially it was much too tight before he loosened it enough to let her breathe comfortably.
She touched the pendant hanging from the center, feeling the outline of a bird taking off in flight. She didn’t have to ask what it was.
“It’s a Nightingale,” Vincent confirmed. “This is your new collar for The Aviary.”
“My collar…”
“Surely you’ve noticed the other women wearing theirs. I should have bought one for you sooner, otherwise people will start asking questions, but…” Vincent sat back. “I wanted to pick out the perfect one for you. It’s customary for the Dom to choose it, you know.”
Who says? Nevertheless, Nala felt it with her fingertips, swallowing hard, making sure she still could. The bastard has collared me? No, it was only for The Aviary, where Nightingale would be expected to prance around showing off how “owned” she was. Oh my God, I asked him to totally own me last night. Nala looked away, in half disgust and half shame. This isn’t me. This showed how imperative it was to have separate sleeping arrangements… if not living ones.
“I’m sorry if it’s not to your tastes. I tried to keep what I knew in mind when I went and picked it out. It’s custom made. The man who made it comes from a long line of jewelers in the area. It’s one of the best qualities a woman could have.”
“What about you? What do you wear to show everyone that you belong to me?”
“Well… it doesn’t really work like that.”
“Maybe it should,” Nala mumbled. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it,” she said, louder. “But it’s out of left field, and after what happened last night…”
Vincent stiffened beside her. Suddenly her body called to his, for comfort, at least. Neither of them succumbed. “I hope you don’t regret that. I know it was a night… I don’t expect anything out of it. This is for The Aviary. I don’t actually think you’re my…”
How sad that neither of them could say the word. “I know. I know we’re on the same page, theoretically, but then things go to some other level and I’m not sure what’s going on anymore. It confuses me. I don’t really want to be your sub, Vincent. I don’t mind the sex, but I want to make it clear that I’m not your girlfriend, and you’re not my boyfriend. Even though it might be best if we remain exclusive until we’re done here.”
“Yes,” he readily agreed. “That’s a good idea. Things are already complicated enough as they are, and we don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“Not that I was dating anyway.”
“Neither was I.”
Nala leaned back in the couch, the collar still lingering around her throat. “You could really have any woman you want, you know. You should tell me who your ultimate type is. Maybe I can help you get a real girlfriend after all this is over.”
Vincent looked askance at her. “You’re something else, Nala.”
“What? I’m serious. I’ll take good care of you. Find you a nice girl who would really appreciate your charms and what you do for a living. Oh, and the money, duh.”
“I’m not sure about that.”
“In return, maybe you could introduce me to some of your rich business buddies. After I’ve lived with you long enough I’ll be used to a certain standard of living. Don’t wanna let it go too soon. Especially if it means I get more gifts like this.” She touched the nightingale charm again.
“What makes you think I would let you anywhere near those men? None of them are your type.”
“Neither are you, really.”
“How so?”
“Really? You’re way too uptight for me. I need a man who can relax and enjoy himself, and not just with sex.”
“Then you’re not going to like any of my buddies. If you think I’m uptight? You’ve never met another million or billionaire. I am the chillest guy at the country club.”
“You actually go to a country club?”
“It’s a figure of speech. I hate golf. Only do it when I have to for work.”
“What a hard life you live.”
Vincent propped his elbow on the back of the couch and regarded her with mild amusement. “Yes, and now your life is going to be so hard by association. All the healthy food you can eat. If you have a license, you can use my other car…
“You have another car?”
“…There’s a lady that comes by once a week to deep clean the whole loft. We’re first on every takeout list in the area, and you can put whatever you want on my tabs there. My accountant pays them off for me once a month.”
“You’re right. It sounds like a hard life. How will I know what restaurant to order out from?”
“I go with the darts method. Or follow your stomach.”
Nala sighed, her whole body moving with her breaths. The choker constrained her throat, but she could still fill her lungs, and that was all that mattered. “Could you please take this thing off me and put it away? I don’t want to wear it until tomorrow.”
Vincent unclasped the collar and took it away, upstairs, into a drawer Nala didn’t have to know about. This is almost too much for me. Living with Vincent. Possibly sleeping with Vincent. Letting Vincent pay for her food and services. Using Vincent’s cleaning lady to help her do laundry…
“I’m going to keep my job,” Nala said the moment Vincent came back downstairs. “I’m not going to entirely rely on you, and I still want my thousand a week stipend.” She had to build her own savings before this all came crashing down like an old, demolished building. Nala had no reason to believe it wouldn’t end like that. I’ll lose my temper. He’ll decide I’m too high maintenance to deal with. Rinse and repeat until I’m out on my ass, maybe in that tax-free condo for however long he decides to keep paying the taxes on it. That still seemed too good to be true. Nala didn’t believe in good fortune like that. Her life was built around losing, not gaining.
“Of course you’ll keep your job. I wouldn’t have suggested otherwise.” Vincent went into the kitchen and picked up his phone. “So, what should we have for dinner? Should we get out the dart board?”
Nala curled into the couch again. “I want something healthy and filling. I’ve only had oatmeal today.”
“There’s a bistro down the way that will deliver turkey dinners. How does that sound?”
Absolutely ridiculous. How could she say no to a free Thanksgiving dinner long before it was Thanksgiving?
Vincent ate at the dining table, typing on a laptop and occasionally talking business on the phone. Nala ate with a tray at the couch, watching TV with the volume low enough for Vincent to hear his phone calls. Good. Don’t eat dinner with him. Would be one thing if she were visiting. Living with him? No. That blurred the lines of their relationship way too much.
As gracious of a host as Vincent tried to be, there were many things he continuously overlooked and nearly drove Nala to her death with. Didn’t he know that she needed her own towel? One that she would probably use every day? What did he mean that was gross? What kind of upbringing did he have where there was more than one towel per person? Oh. Right. Upper middle class kid from Fresno.
Nala forgot her toothbrush. Did he have any spares? Ew! She was not using his – she didn’t care how often they had kissed!
How did one turn off the TV? Okay, so what if she wanted to play all his pre-release games? The man had a fucking copy of Fallout before anyone else!
No, she would not wait for the cleaning lady to do the dishes. No, she would not wait for the cleaning lady to fold her clothes and put them away somewhere. No, she would not wait for the cleaning lady for anything! Damnit, Nala was an adult and would damn well clean up her own messes after making them. This didn’t mean, however, that she was suddenly Vincent’s maid. He could keep paying the cleaning lady for that.
“I’ll change in the bathroom,” Nala mumbled, after Vincent refused to understand why she might want some privacy, even though he had seen her naked enough times by now.
Nala made herself a bed on the couch downstairs, content with watching TV until her eyelids were too heavy to keep open. Vincent, however, insisted on bringing down the other pillow from his bed for her to curl up with. He also brought down a spare blanket and tossed it over her body when she least expected it.
“The offer still stands to come upstairs,” he said more than once. “The bed is way more comfortable. Trust me. I’ve fallen asleep on this couch countless times.”
And fucked on it, I’m sure. Nala tried not to think about that. “Thanks. I’ll be fine here.”
At least he didn’t try to kiss her goodnight.
He did, however, go take a shower while Nala watched TV. Oh, sure, that was perfectly normal. Men took showers, after all, but did all men then come downstairs and scrounge around… wearing nothing but cotton pajama bottoms?
Spare me. The moment Nala caught a glimpse of Vincent’s bare torso standing before the fridge was the moment she pulled the blanket over her head and attempted a journey into sleep.
During that time of cautious tossing and turning on a leather couch, Vincent turned off the lights downstairs and went up, leaving one soft lamp on while he coughed and creaked on his own bed.
The loft grew cold.
Nala tried to ignore the strange feeling of sleeping on Vincent’s couch. She watched TV until it drove her insane. She played on the phone he bought her until she couldn’t think of a single Wikipedia article to check out next. You need to sleep. Crow’s party is tomorrow. Also, work. At least she had her priorities sorted out.
Even so, Nala could not convince herself to sleep. The air around her was too stiff, too… devoid of life. At least in her closet, Nala could pretend she was in her safe home, snuggled deep into a cozy corner and unaware of the world around her. She was not claustrophobic in the slightest. If anything, people might say she was agoraphobic in the traditional sense. I don’t mind crowds, but this whole big open space thing is unsettling. She often felt that way living in Nevada. Big, sunny desert with no end in sight. What if something got her?
Nala turned to the back of the couch and tried to snuggle there. All she could think about, however, was how this leather felt against her hands and feet as she straddled Vincent’s lap a few days ago… the way his body surged into hers, taking her, owning her.
No matter how deeply she sank beneath the blanket, she kept thinking about him, about this huge loft with its exposed beams and the cold nature of the brick walls. Lots of people found this intellectually stimulating, but Nala wanted to run back to the craftsman house with its potheads and sink piled with dirty dishes. At least it felt human.
There’s another human here, you know. Nala certainly knew that, but it was hard to reconcile her need to put barriers between her and Vincent and her need for companionship.
“I’m ridiculous.” Nala sat up, tossing the blanket aside so she could swing her legs over the side of the couch. The pillow held fast between her fingers as she dragged it across the hardwood floors, her feet taking her to the spiral staircase and to a fate she never signed up for.
“Hey there.” Vincent was sitting up in bed, lamp on and tablet displaying some important missive, Nala was sure. When she glanced at it as she climbed onto the other side of the bed and put the pillow back in its rightful place, she realized it was a novel. Even billionaires read before bed.
“Hey.” Nala was glad he didn’t ask about her sudden appearance. Either that was his personality, or he knew her well enough by now to know to not say a damn thing. Thank God. Nala sighed as she lay in the comfortable bed and instantly felt cozier. It helped having a warm human by her side. Plus, the lofted bedroom brought her closer to the ceiling and some nearby walls. She already felt better.
Within a few minutes, Vincent put his tablet on the nightstand and turned off the lamp. He got properly into bed, shaking it enough to wake Nala back up again. She stared into darkness. She felt and smelled the man she had given herself to enough times by now.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it.
She did it.
“We’re not having sex,” she insisted, curling her arm around Vincent’s abdomen and resting her head against his chest. “I’m going to sleep, okay?”
“Me too. I’m not in the mood for sex either.”
Nala snorted against his skin. “Like you would say no if I went for your cock right now?”
“I said I’m not in the mood. I said nothing about him.”
“I’m pretty sure one influences the other.”
His fingers brushed against her hairline, lulling her deeper into slumber. Fuck me. I’m falling for this. Maybe not for him… but definitely this. “You might be surprised.”
“Good night, Vincent.”
“Good night, Nala.”
She pulled the blankets up until they nearly touched her nose. Between the heat of their bodies and the scent of his musky skin, Nala convinced herself that this might actually be a slice of heaven. After that, sleeping was easy.