Brooke

 

The next few days are like living in a dream and a nightmare. I wake up with Owen every morning, I go to my dream job, and I end my day in his bed. I’ve never felt such a connection to anyone before. The harder I tried to fight it, the stronger my feelings for him became. So being able to admit it, admit that I’m falling for him, is like a weight lifted off my shoulders.

I’ve never been with a man who is so attentive to my needs. Not just sexually, but emotionally. He wants to hear about my day. He wants to know about me personally. He wants me to be happy. Everyday I feel closer to him. Which is like a knife in my heart at the same time.

When he told me about about Pete, I nearly lost it. This is what Pete wants, all the private information that Owen trusted me with is what he’s after. And now I know why. He doesn’t know the connection, but now I do. I know that Owen is going to take Pete down and I know that to save my studio I should run to him and warn him. Tell him everything and be free. But I can’t.

I can’t save myself to further cause him more pain. He’s lost everything and if I tell Pete, he’ll lose this too. I won’t do it, I won’t be the reason he suffers any amount of hurt. So for now, I’ve pushed Pete to the back of my mind and I’m loving my relationship with Owen.

Leaving work, I go home to shower before heading over to Owen’s. I’ve convinced him to sit down and watch a movie tonight. He wanted to go out to dinner, but it’s Friday and I’m exhausted. So I said Chinese and a movie or nothing. He quickly agreed.

So, once I’m ready I grab my stuff and hear my phone. Pulling it out of my purse, my heart leaps into my throat.

Pete: Times up. Be in my office in an hour and you better have the information.

Dropping my phone, the world around me starts to spin. It’s over. I have no choice but to tell Owen now. Pete’s about to destroy me. Once I tell him, once he knows the truth he’s going to walk away. He’s going to think I’m some slut that sleeps with men for secrets. I never saw it that way. I thought of it as a dating game, only I got paid to get their secrets. I never gave it a second thought, until now. I have this amazing man and I need to explain my past. Not only that, I need to explain that being with him is costing me my dream and his.

Showing up at Owen’s with my puffy eyes and red face is not a good idea. I know this, I know everything is about to fall around me. I’m going to lose Owen and I’m going to lose my studio. But I can’t wait any longer, so when I step off the elevator I feel my heart crack in my chest.

“Hey, blue eyes. Dinner is ordered and I’ll even let you pick the movie. That way later I can pick if I’m fucking you in bed, the shower, the floor, hell maybe all of them,” he says from the kitchen.

Lifting my feet is like lifting cement blocks.

“We’re also celebrating tonight because the deal I’ve been working on will go down tomorrow.  Pete is finally going to get what he has coming and it deserves a toast.”

Maybe I should just turn around and run. Leave before anyone else gets hurt. I’ll move to Pennsylvania with my parents and start over. Even if my shattered heart stays here in the beautiful Manhattan penthouse.

“Hey, you ok?” he asks, stepping out of the kitchen. The second he sees me he drops the dishrag he’s holding and grabs ahold of me. Tucking me under his chin, his muscular arms hold me tight. “What is it?”

Tears silently run down my face, my stomach is turning, and my heart is pounding. “I have to tell you something and I’m sure once I do you’re going to walk away,” I cry out.

Kissing my head, he runs his hands down my hair to my back. “Nothing you could tell me will make me walk away. I’m in this Brooke. I can handle whatever it is. Just tell me,” he gently whispers.

It only makes me feel worse and I cry harder holding tightly to his shirt. I woke up so happy this morning and tonight I feel like I’m dying. “It’s a lot to take in.”

He wraps his arm around me and guides me to the couch. “It’s okay, blue eyes. Are you hurt?”

“Not physically, no,” I whisper.

Getting up, he goes into the kitchen and returns with a bottle of water. Uncapping it, he hands it to me. “Take a sip, calm down.” I do as I’m told and hand it back. Sitting next to me, he grabs a hold of my hand and squeezes. “Talk to me.”

I study his face. Memorize every feature and close my eyes. “I didn’t have money to open my studio, so I needed to figure out a way to get it. Working a normal job, well I’d still be saving. It cost a fortune for that building. It cost even more to renovate it into my studio. I busted my ass for three years until it was ready to open. Even then I couldn’t afford to keep the lights on with the handful of girls I had signed up. So I had to keep working another job.” Looking up at him, he’s studying me. Taking in every word I’m saying. “Remember I told you I had another job?”

“Of course I do,” he says, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. “So what do you owe someone money because I’ll take care of it. I’ll pay to keep you going, blue eyes.”

His sweet gesture makes the tears run down my face. “No, I don’t owe anyone money,” I say, looking down at our hands. “I sold my soul to the devil and my time is up.”

“What?” he asks, a bit louder this time. “Brooke, look at me.” I do and he searches my eyes. “What’s going on?” He’s losing his patience and I don’t blame him.

“I used to sleep with men for money,” I whisper, wiping my tears quickly with my free hand.

“You were a prostitute?” he almost yells. He’s trying to keep his calm, but I can feel the shift in the air already.

“No, not exactly.” Closing my eyes, I picture the handsome face I have memorized and I’m thankful I’ll always have it. “It wasn’t the sex I was after, it was the pillow talk.”

Holding my chin with his thumb and and pointer, he forces me to look at him. “I don’t know what that means,” he says.

“I was paid a huge amount of money to sleep with businessmen and in the afterglow I would pump them for information about their business,” I explain. My tears are endless and my heart is crushed looking at the disgust on his face.

“You what? What the fuck, Brooke. Have you stopped?” he asks full of anger.

“Yes.” I can’t even contain my sobs at this point.

“I’d be lying if I said I’m not pissed about it, about the fact you not only slept with them but essentially stole from them.  But if you aren’t doing it anymore we can move past it. We both obviously had sex before we got together, we’ve had past relationships. I don’t like the idea, I actually hate it, but when I said you were mine I meant it. The past is the past, lets leave it there,” he says, blowing out a breath.

I wish that was it. I wish I could throw myself into his arms and thank him for understanding. For accepting the decisions I’ve made. But I can’t, because now is when I need to tell him the rest. The parts that affect him. The parts I feel so guilty about that I am ready to be sick. My body is shaking as I prepare myself for what’s to come next.

“That’s not it,” I say, my voice shaking.

Raising an eyebrow, he’s long let go of my hand and he crosses his arms. “Okay, I’m listening.”

I’m going to hurt him. He’s going to see me as someone I’m not. I can’t believe this is happening, that this is real life. It’s horrible. It’s sickening. It’s all my fault.

Wrapping my arms around myself to try and hold it together, the tears of guilt are unstoppable. “I was given assignments, clients is more to the point.” I need to stop to collect myself because I can’t get the words to come out.

“Go on,” he calmly says. Too calm.

Tasting my salty tears roll over my lips, I nod my head slightly. “You were a client,” I whisper, looking down as I squeeze my arms tighter around myself.

“Excuse me?” he yells, as he jumps off the couch. “I’m a client? You’re here to fuck me and get my personal information?” Unable to look at him, I try to choke back my sobs. “Look at me, God damn it.”

Lifting my swollen eyes, I want to crumble to the ground with the hurt I see on his face. He’s searching my face, probably looking for answers that he’ll never find. Wiping my tears, I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”

He lets out the most devious laugh I’ve ever heard and it sends a chill down my body. “You’re sorry. For what Brooke? For doing it or for having to tell me? What the fuck are you sorry for?” He growls, as he tugs at his hair.

“I told him I was done. I begged him to let me stop. He said when I got you talking I could walk away. So I was gonna do it, but I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to do it. I fell for you, nothing about that was fake. I’m sorry for considering doing it, for hurting you, for lying. He’s going to crush me, take away my studio. That’s how he convinced me to do it. He said he’s going to expose me to all the parents and I’ll lose it all. But I didn’t do it, I told him I couldn’t and now he’s waiting for me at his office. Waiting for the information I refused to get and when I don’t show up, he’s going to destroy me,” I cry out.

Taking one step closer to me, he looks down at me like I am no one. “Who is it?” he growls.

With my heart bleeding from what I’ve done, I look him right in the eyes. “Pete. Pete McCoy.”

“Mother fucker,” he yells, kicking over the end table as he heads to the door. Once out, he slams it closed behind him.

I’m left alone, which is exactly what I deserve.