Chapter Eighteen
Ashley
Fiancée. Fiancée. Fiancée… the word reverberates through my brain. With my body still tingling from the sex we just had in his office, I sit down at my desk, placing the manuscript down next to my keyboard, fidgeting with its edges.
“Everything okay?”
I glance up, startled by Tory’s question. Her desk only a few feet from mine, I nod. “Why?”
“You look pale.”
“I do?” I don’t feel pale. I feel like I’m burning alive from the inside out. My unquenched desire has disappeared. It doesn’t matter… it doesn’t matter! I keep telling myself that, but deep in my gut and in the logical part of my brain, I realize that his words struck a chord, but I shake it off. It’s not like we’re in a legitimate relationship. It’s not like we’re officially dating or anything like that. What we do, we do in secret, and I want to keep it that way. What business is it of mine that he has a fiancée?
“Is there something wrong with that manuscript? Does he want you to revise it?”
I glance at Tory, trying to track our sort-of conversation. “Just a couple of things to check over. No worries,” I say.
I try to focus my attention back to my computer screen, effectively shutting down any further questions. Nevertheless, I feel Tory’s eyes on me. I can tell when she wants more information. After all, I’ve known her for about as long as I’ve known Stewart. As his cousin, Tory is the one who introduced us. While our relationship is sort of friendly at work, it isn’t like she’s my confidant or anything. I don’t have any confidantes. No besties, no BFFs, no joined-at-the-hip friends for me. No sir. I’m too busy… too busy focusing on my career aspirations. But man, at this moment, I wish I did have someone to confide in.
Despite my foray into the bondage world, I have to admit to myself that my attitudes, to some degree at least, are traditional. Daniel is engaged. Does his fiancée know about his… his hobby? His underground lifestyle? His many partners and the subs, including me? Maybe she does and maybe she doesn’t. It’s none of my business. It’s theirs. And if she doesn’t know, maybe she’s better off that way.
Still, I can’t help the train of thoughts twisting my insides. What does that make me? And what does it say about Daniel? Then again, is that any of my business either? I shake my head and try to distance myself from thoughts of morality, ethics, and relationships. I stare at the computer screen in front of me, but a myriad of questions keep flipping through my brain, over and over again. The more I think about it, the more I realize I’m in a dead-end situation. Much as I like Daniel, as much as I want to spend more time with him, and even despite my growing feelings for him, I realize that nothing will come of our relationship.
An overwhelming feeling of sadness comes over me. Before I start to wallow in a pool of self-pity, I mentally slap myself. What’s wrong with you? I’m not a character in my own manuscript. I’m not a character in any of the romance novels I’ve edited. For crying out loud, this is real life. It’s one thing to have goals and aspirations, another to fool yourself to the point where you believe that fantasy can become reality. Maybe for some people it does, but not for me, not Ashley Shiels.
My hands settle on my keyboard. I remind myself of my own goals, which is to become a published author. Daniel promised that he would publish my manuscript, but where do I go from there? Would I have had the same opportunity to get published if I didn’t work here at Pen & Quill? Was he patronizing me, promising to publish my manuscript if… no, don’t go there. I think I know Daniel well enough to know that if he thought my manuscript was crap, he would’ve told me that. Honestly, like any good editor should. Maybe not in those words, but he told me it was good and it just needed a little polishing.
My mind is spinning. I sense Tory occasionally glancing at me, and I finally turn to her with a frown. “What is it? Why do you keep staring at me?”
She says nothing, but merely glances at my computer screen and then back at me. I look at the computer screen and realize I haven’t edited one line since I sat down. I come up with an excuse. “Okay, so the manuscript needs a little more work than I implied.”
“He’s not mad, is he?” She glances down the hall to Daniel’s office and lowers her voice. “He can be a prick sometimes, can’t he?”
An unreasonable surge of annoyance floods through me, but I quickly tamp it down and offer a lame shrug in reply before again staring at my monitor. Really focused. But I still can’t concentrate. Giving up on the computer, I move my keyboard aside and place the proof of the manuscript in front of me and start idly leafing through it. I don’t have to do anything with it, it’s just a prop, but I pretend to read through it, if just to keep Tory off my case.
Fiancée. Fiancée. Fiancée. A hollow, achy feeling develops in the pit of my stomach. Why do I care? Besides, I have Stewart, don’t I? I grimace but then realize that I have to be sensible. Rational. I pull my desk drawer open, pull out my purse and set it on my lap as I dig inside for my phone. Before I can second-guess myself, I text Stewart and ask if he wants to come over tonight.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I glance at Tory and sigh. “Everything is fine, Tory. I promise.”
She finally seems to accept my response and returns to her work. I glance at her occasionally, but she’s now fully involved in editing the manuscript on her computer screen. I lied. Everything is not fine. Of course, I wish things had gone differently… I realize where my thoughts were headed. This has to end. Much as I don’t want it to, I also don’t want to be anyone’s mistress, either by implication or the true meaning of the word. Daniel is engaged. That makes everything different.
For the next hour or so I try my best to do the job I’m paid to do, but every few minutes, I find myself glancing down the hallway toward Daniel’s office. My emotions range from disappointment to irritation. Why didn’t he tell me that he’s engaged? Why?
And despite my fantasizing about him for so long, do I really want to be with a man who would cheat so willingly with me and possibly other women? No, no possibly about it. That playroom in his basement is not brand-spanking new, no pun intended. How many subs does he have? How often does he bring them to his secret basement?
I mentally slap myself again. What does it matter? Why should I care? Why did I think that something would come out of our… whatever we’re doing? Playtime. That’s all it is to Daniel. Getting his rocks off. Playing around. Fucking.
And me? Honestly, what did I expect? It’s obvious to me now that Daniel isn’t, and never will be, a one-woman man. For all I know, his fiancée has been down in that playroom as well, and maybe he’s had a ménage a trois going on down there, or even orgies. What the hell do I know?
I sigh again, staring at the hallway. When he comes out, I’ll give him a look, maybe gesture with my chin for him to meet me out in the hallway outside the office. Or maybe I can manage to time it so that we end up in the elevator alone at the same time. I need to tell him that this is over.
Over before it really even got started. How depressing. The story of my life, isn’t it?
I sigh. It was a good experience, and I learned a lot even in a few short sessions. I enjoyed it, no matter how things ended. But it’s time to end it. Time to move on.
I don’t want to. I want Daniel.