I didn’t leave Grant’s place; I just made him think I was. I figured that wouldn’t be fair; we had some attempted baby making to engage in. Plus, who knows if that crazy psycho from the bus stop was at my house— I planned to live out of the clothes in the backpack I used to take from school to Bar Seven and crash at Willow’s or Lindsey’s during the times I wasn’t here at Grant’s, until I was sure that creep was good and gone.
And, if I had to admit it to myself, I missed him— not that I would ever admit that to him of course, and in fact, it was part of why I had made it a point to seem cool, calm and collected while he was throwing his temper tantrum.
But, that just showed me that he had missed me too. Ha ha. I knew it. Or at least, I was beginning to suspect it.
I stomped down the hall and found a random empty room to study in. Inside were shelves stacked with a lot of books. It wasn’t dusty like your typical library, nor was it too light. It was filled with warm lighting and a slight scent of cinnamon. The book cases were made of some sort of expensive wood, knowing Grant, and gold molding in the corners.
“Wow, looks like he’s got some sort of taste,” I sneered to myself.
I locked the door behind me and sat down at the table in the middle.
“Damn it,” I hissed. I had forgotten my backpack out there with him.
Why did Grant make me feel so confused? All he needed was a baby, so why did he want to know so much about me?
It wasn’t like I was asking him his life story or his whereabouts.
I placed my head on the desk and glanced at the book case in front of me. It didn’t hurt to take a look. Getting up, I pulled down my dress that had ridden up while I’d been seated, and wandered over to one of his book cases.
One of the books he had was by Aristotle. He even had the Great Gatsby in his collection. Golden spines adorned some of his books as well. I loved books. Especially when I was done with dancing, I’d always crack open a book before dozing off.
Maybe that was one of the reasons I was still hanging on in college with good grades, despite my slow progress and frequent interruptions.
While I was flipping through his books, I heard the door knob jiggle behind me. The door opened, and Grant strode inside.
“Stacy…” he started, not finishing his sentence.
“It figures you could open any door in your home,” I said. “I get that. But I just wanted some privacy.”
I turned back to the book in my hands and read a random page. Anything to get my mind off him and act uninterested. In reality, I felt a burning desire for him that I couldn’t quell no matter how much I tried.
“I understand,” he said, sitting down at the table I was at. Sighing, I turned around and stared him down. Didn’t the word privacy mean anything to him?
This was his home though, so that probably wasn’t an option. Giving up, I sat down next to him with the book I had pulled from his book case.
Grant turned around and turned me around as well by the shoulders. He began to knead at my knotted and twisted muscles. Damn, was I that stressed?
“You’re good with your hands, you know,” I said, feeling my body loosen up.
“I’ve been told that a lot,” he teased, a small chuckle under his breathe.
“Heh, guess so.”
Grant’s fingers dug into all the right places, making me moan as if we were having sex. It almost felt that good physically, too. God, he was that good. His scent began to swirl around my nose again, that manly mix of pine and sandalwood.
I fell into his trap; a daze of relaxation and temporary euphoria.
“You should understand my concern…” he began.
“Huh?” My mind was too busy spinning with the release of stress from my shoulder blades
“My sister. When she was five years old, she was kidnapped right in front of my parents and me. We thought we had lost her for good. But after a gruesome two weeks we got her back,” he explained, pressing my muscles into a gooey yummy sore mess.
“Really? I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize, you had nothing to do with that. I only want to let you know why I’d like to know where you are. You are going to be carrying my child,” he leaned in close to my ear, “really soon.”
With that dick of his, and the way he knew how to use it, he was probably right.
Grant slid something hard onto the table and I looked over to see what it was.
“A phone? I already—”
“You’ll use this one too. So I can know where you are and check in on you. Don’t forget who you’re technically with. People will try anything to make a buck. Kidnapping and ransom money aren’t off the table. Not that I want to scare you. I’m just explaining my…”
Stalking tendencies? I though, although I don’t say it, because that would seem cruel.
He picked up the phone and held it in front of me, urging me to take it.
Now I couldn’t resist a less mean joke.
“You’re really afraid someone’s gonna run off with me, aren’t you? Maybe pay me more to have their baby?” I ask him.
“Not funny,” he said, but he’s trying not to smile.
“Fine,” I said, grabbing the phone to look at it more closely.
That was when I realized what I was holding and dropped it. Luckily there was carpet in the room and the screen wasn’t shattered.
“Oh, my God, isn’t this the newest X-Phone? I thought this wasn’t supposed to come out for another year?”
“You’re forgetting who I am,” he said, poking my side.
Grant did have a tender side. It was the one of the many things I loved about him.
Liked about him, I quickly corrected myself.
“Oh, duh. Of course you’ll get gifts from every company out there.”
“Still wrong.”
He stopped massaging my poor muscles and I groaned. No, keep going, that felt so good.
“What then?” I asked, annoyed.
“I have a lot of shares in the X-Phone company. So I always get the newest models before it hits the public.”
Grant scooted his chair closer to mine then sighed.
“This isn’t the best position to rub your back in,” he said, getting up.
“Then what is? Because I seriously want that back rub again.”
Grant nodded his head at the table.
“Wait, the table?” I looked at it and imagined my boobs getting squashed.
“Yes, haven’t you been to a massage place before?”
Which ones did he go to?
“No. I don’t have that luxurious life you have.”
“Not yet, you mean. How about the bedroom? Come.”
How’d that turn from a question to a command? He held his hand out and I placed mine in it. Tugging me out of my chair, I followed him down the hall back to his bedroom. It was big enough to be a damn apartment.
Actually, it was bigger than my studio. Rich people, they were so damn spoiled.
And so damn good at getting me to let them spy on me and follow them anywhere to do anything they wanted to do to me. Or, maybe I was only talking about Grant with those specific things.