Isla
“I’m not leaving.” He frowns. “And I’m sorry I scare you, I don’t want to. This is a horrible, fucked up situation. It’s not even a misunderstanding. Clearly one of us has been set up. But there’s no way I’d hurt you.”
I snort, and wish I hadn’t when his eyes narrow. “Sorry. No offense, but you attack women for a living, and I’m supposed to trust you?”
For a moment something crosses his face, something I can’t decipher. “What I do for a living is completely consensual. It didn’t start out about the rough stuff either. It started out as vanilla sex for money, and then a couple of clients came up with special requests. That’s how it became kind of my thing. It’s a fantasy. Played out between consenting adults, with clear rules, and a safe word. And I’d like to add, it’s not my fantasy, it’s theirs.”
I nod. I don’t trust him though. Can’t trust him. He has sex for money, for God’s sake. He’s big, and broad, and too much…and I want him out of my room. Out of this house.
“Have you got any enemies?” he asks, and I laugh.
“No. I mean…just no. I’m so boring… I’ve got a couple of friends, and very few people in my social circle. I rarely go out.”
“What about at work?”
I shrug. “I worked in an independent bookstore, but it closed. I lost my job a few months back. I’ve been looking for something else, but so far nothing’s turned up.”
He watches me for a moment, considering. Then he blows out a breath, and sits down on the bed. I scoot back and pull the duvet up to my chin.
“Someone is trying to hurt you. Or trying to set me up. Now if it’s me they’re after, and you’re the innocent party in this, then fine. I can handle myself. But if they’re after you, you’re in danger. You’ve told me there’s no one to come stay with you. I’m not happy to leave you here alone.”
“With all due respect, Mr?”
“Ethan.”
“Mr. Ethan.”
“Just Ethan.”
I don’t like using his first name, but I want him gone. “With all due respect, Ethan. You’re no one to me, and vice versa. I’d rather you leave.”
“Are you even listening to me? What if they hire someone else? Someone who doesn’t do this consensually for a living? They realise this has gone wrong, so they hire a thug to do the job right? Or get someone to beat you up? Who knows. You’re here alone. What if someone comes for you tomorrow night? And this time they really mean business?”
I swallow, hard. “I can go to the police. Tomorrow.”
He shakes his head, impatient. “One, they won’t do anything. They might, maybe, look into whether someone hacked your computer. Two, even if they did do something, they aren’t going to post someone on your house. This isn’t the movies. The police are overstretched, and they aren’t going to do anything about a possible future crime. Not with the scant evidence we have about this. Three, I go with you, I incriminate myself, and this sort of shit is the kind of thing some cop will sell to the papers. I don’t want to be in the media telling the world what I do, and I doubt you want this made public either?”
I bite my lip and his gaze lands there for a moment. Despite the dim light of the room and not being able to see his eyes too clearly, for a moment, I fancy I can feel a hunger in him. It should terrify me, but it gives me a dark thrill. A stupid, dangerous, dark thrill. I must be crazy to have any feelings towards this man, other than disgust and anger. He has sex for a living. Ugh, imagine how many women he’s been with. The thought makes me shudder. It also makes be a bit excited. Yep. I’m definitely stupid. And possibly sex starved. Being a twenty-one-year-old virgin will do that for you.
“If you come with me, I can keep you safe.”
I roll my eyes. “So you say, but how do I know you won’t get me to your lair and have your wicked way with me.”
He laughs then, a proper guffaw.
“You crack me up. My lair.” He sobers and scrubs a hand over his jaw. “Look, if I’d wanted to have my way with you, I could do it here. No offence but you’re small, and you’re in bed, defenceless. If I wanted to, I could do what I liked to you here. And let’s be brutally honest, I have the perfect alibi. Emails requesting it, and bank transfers for God’s sake. I’ve no need to get you to come to my house. I don’t want to do anything to you. I don’t want women who aren’t into me. And, you’re not my type anyway. I’m not into the Victorian ghost look.”
He indicates my high necked, cotton nightdress and I feel my face warm. I wear this because it’s comfortable.
I think about what he’s saying. It makes sense. I’m not going to be safe here. There’s no one I can call. Not who can get here quickly anyway. If this man wanted to hurt me, he could have, he’s right there. All big and imposing, and angry. Yeah, if he wanted to harm me, I’d have no defence at all.
“I used to be in the military. Special forces.” His voice is calm, serious. “I’m trained to fight, and trained to protect. I won’t hurt you. I fucking swear it. If it will make you feel more comfortable, I can call my sister and get her to come stay with us. I don’t mind at all if it will make you feel better. I understand you being nervous to go somewhere with a guy who’s broken into your home. But I can’t go home and leave you here. I wish I could. I don’t need this shit. But I can’t. Something happens to you and it’ll be on my conscience.”
I consider his offer. “You’ll call your sister?” I’d feel much better with another woman there.
He nods and takes out his phone again. “I’ll do it now.” He dials a number and I hear a woman answer on the other end.
“Sis, it’s me. Got a massive favour to ask. Can you come over for the night? I know it’s late and Katie will be asleep, but bundle her up and come on over, will you?”
I hear grumpy sounding mutterings and he sighs. “It’s a long story, but there’s a woman…a client, and I’m bringing her back with me. She’s been…traumatised. I think another female in the house will make her more comfortable.”
I clearly hear the okay she gives in reply.
“Who is Katie?” I ask as he hangs up.
“My niece. Five going on fifty. She’s a real character.”
I smile at the pride in his voice, then my brain tells me to stop being stupid. This could all be a trick, and the woman his partner or something. Like a serial killing Bonnie and Clyde. “How do I know you and your supposed sister aren’t in this together?”
He scratches his cheek, and I can almost taste his impatience, but he tampers it down yet again. “You got the internet on your phone?”
I nod.
“Okay. Look up Ann Kilbride. There will be some articles come up. Her husband died in a hit and run.”
I gasp. “Oh, my God.”
“Yeah. So, look her up. The local paper has a picture of their wedding day. I’m in the picture, you’ll see me with her. My name is there. You can verify it.”
He reaches toward me and I still as his hand brushes my shoulder. There’s a click and my other bedside lamp comes on, the one with the bright bulb in it.
Light floods the space between us, and I view his face clearly for the first time.
My God, he’s stunning. Really gorgeous. No wonder women pay him for sex. He looks like a model, but one who has been in a fight or something. His nose isn’t perfectly straight, there’s a scar on his chin, and his hair is messy, and not in that artfully styled way a lot of men wear. A few days worth of scruff only serves to make him look hotter. He’s an insane mash up of pretty and rugged, rough and sexy. I don’t ever think I’ve seen a more attractive man, unless we’re counting that guy from Game of Thrones, the big one I’ve had an insane crush on for the last few years.
“You’ve got a good look at me now. Have a look for Ann Kilbride and you’ll see me in the pictures. I’ll leave you alone to have a think for five minutes.”
He heads out of the room and with a shaking hand, I pick up my phone and start to search for his sister. Soon a variety of headlines pop up and I click on the one from the local Herald Examiner. It’s a horrible story of a hit and run accident, the driver not found, the victim later dying in hospital, and sure enough, there’s a picture of his sister’s wedding day. And Ethan is there. Looking so handsome in a suit it’s ridiculous. I’ve never seen a man like him before. But then again, I do live a sheltered life.
“What do I need to pack?” I shout, mind made up. I’d rather spend a night in a house with these strangers than be terrified here all alone. I trust he is who he says he is, and his sister is going to be there with her kid for pity’s sake. If I stay here, I know I’ll be a terrified wreck. In the morning, I can make some better plans.
Footsteps sound and he’s back in the room.
“A couple of days worth of clothes, your toiletries, and anything else you need.”
“Can you give me twenty minutes?”
He nods, but then I remember Sadie.
“I can’t come!” Crap. I’m kind of more scared not to go with him now I’ve thought things through, but I can’t leave Sadie.
“Why not?”
“My dog.”
He smiles, white teeth glinting. “Bring her. I’ve got two dogs of my own. She’s more than welcome.”
Feeling even better about going with him if I can bring Sadie, I push the covers back and climb out of bed. As I head to the bathroom to pack my toiletry bag, I try to tell myself this is an adventure. I’ve been wanting to do something different for ages. I’d been cruising along in life being safe and boring for far too long.
My dad’s the best, but he smothers me sometimes. He’s so scared I’ll hurt myself or be hurt, he can be way overprotective. I understand it. After losing Mum, and then nearly losing me, twice, he’s got good reason to be the way he is. But between him and Gran, I’ve lived a sheltered life. And with the years I spent being sick, it means I’ve missed out on a lot of things. I want to start experiencing living, not simply existing, moving from one day to the next in my safe little bubble. I’d wanted an adventure, and you can’t get much more exciting than taking off with an ex-special forces soldier who now sells his body for a living.
When I get back to the bedroom, Ethan looks at me and blinks slowly, once. Dark lashes fan over deep blue eyes. I’m spellbound.
“You coming in your Victorian Ghost get-up, or are you going to change?”
And just like that the spell is broken. He might be beautiful, and lead an exciting life, but he’s a dick, and he has sex for money. He’s probably got knob rot or something. I chuckle to myself at my joke and he flashes me a puzzled look.
Great, he probably thinks I’m insane now. Although, why I should care what he thinks, I don’t know.
“I’m about to get changed. Will you wait for me downstairs?” I muster as much pride as I can and turn my back on him.
“See you in five minutes.”
Then he’s gone, hardly making a sound as he leaves the room. Those years in the special forces probably served him well when it comes to creeping about women’s houses, being a freaky pretend rapist.
As I rummage through my drawers, I ponder what kind of woman would pay a man to break into her house and rough-sex her? It’s so…messed up. I flush as I think about my own fantasies though. When I was about sixteen or so, I went through a phase of wanting to be taken as a sex slave by pirates. I’d read some book where the heroine was taken by pirates and kept by the Captain as his lover, sort-of-against-her-will-but-not-really. That book had started months of fantasies about being taken by a whole crew of pirates who’d use me for their pleasure as we sailed the world. Of course, they were all gorgeous. No one has rape fantasies about smelly, horrible men with dirty fingernails, and bad breath. That’s why they are called fantasies.
So, really, I shouldn’t be judgey about Ethan or his clients. I got over my rape fantasy stage, but I’ve always liked the idea of being held down, and maybe more. I’d quite like to get spanked. Don’t know where this little kink of mine comes from, because I don’t have Daddy issues or anything like that. I think it might be when I read some racy book I found one day in Mum’s drawer. I’d snuck off with it and read all about this girl who lived with two men who were always disciplining her, and it used to make me all tingly and funny between my legs.
I still sometimes get that book out, if I’m going to have a session with my trusty vibrator. That’s on the days when I don’t go looking on my favourite Tumblr sites.
I may be the world’s least innocent virgin.
Finally packed, I shove all thoughts of pirates and spankings out of my mind and compose myself. I head downstairs to go find Sadie, now to be officially renamed, The World’s Worst Guard Dog.
She’s fast asleep in one of her favorite spots by the kitchen radiator. She must have got off the bed in the night and come down here. She tends to roam the house a bit these days. I glare at her a moment, but I can’t be angry with her. She’s an old girl now. She’s eleven and doesn’t hear too good anymore.
“Hey, Sadie.” I bend down and touch her head gently, waking her.
“Come on, old girl, we’re going on an adventure.”
“Oh, it’s an adventure now, is it?”
I turn to see Ethan stood by the door, smiling at me. And he’s got dimples. Shoot me now.
I sigh, clip on Sadie’s lead, and head to the door. I’m equal measures terrified and exhilarated, and I’m not sure if I hate it or love it.