Chapter 8: Here we go

As he busies himself counting his money, I curl my arms around myself. Shame burns through me as I acknowledge what I’ve just done. I played into someone else’s dirty fantasy for money. I’m no better than a prostitute. Mom would roll over in her grave if she knew. Dad would have a coronary.

Tears burn at my eyes, and I hopelessly try to blink them away. All it manages to do is send them skating down my hot cheeks. I bite hard on my bottom lip to keep the sob in my throat. Footsteps near me, but I can’t meet his eyes. Not anymore. Not right now.

“Look at me.” His deep, husky, commanding voice doesn’t broker room for an argument. I find myself obeying though I hate to. “Good girl.”

His praise washes over me, chasing away some of my shame, which really makes me feel fucked up.

“You earned this,” he murmurs. “You’ve seen my safe. There’s plenty more where that came from.” He grips my wrist, pulling it away from my body, and twists my palm face up. “Eight hundred for your time and two for a tip.”

I jerk my confused stare to meet his probing blue eyes. “What? You’re giving me a thousand dollars for whatever that was?” My voice is shrill. “Why?”

He presses the money into my palm, lingering his warm touch there. The connection causes my body to tremble. I’m almost disappointed when he pulls away. Almost. I shove the money into my pocket without counting.

“You deserved it. Earned every penny.” He leans closer. “Can I tell you a secret?” I clench my jaw and give him a clipped nod.

“I would have paid a lot more for that, Miss Elliott.”

“What?” I shriek. “Why didn’t you tell me I could ask for more?”

“You have to learn to negotiate.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “In business, it’s imperative.”

“How much?” Anger chases away my shame. “How high could I have gone?”

“In a high-end kink club here in the city, I’d have to pay at least five times what I paid you.” I gasp, furious at the gall of this man. “I could have earned five thousand dollars?”

“I said I’d pay five times that at a club,” he growls. “Not for you.” Oh.

Ouch.

I deflate, dragging my eyes to our shoes that are too close for comfort. His strong grip finds my jaw, pushing my head back up to look at him.

“For a young, bratty girl who wears red panties and smells like cherry candy, I’d pay a whole lot more than for those professionals at the club.” His thumb strokes over my jawbone. “You could’ve pulled ten grand out of me. Twenty if you let me keep the panties.”

Dirty fucking bastard!

I shove at his stupidly hard chest, forcing him to drop his hold on my jaw. “Good riddance, asshole.”

Storming over to my discarded duster, I pick it up and then hurry over to my cart. I’m just pushing it out of his office when his words stop me.

“Negotiating can be fun,” he calls out. “I have money. Lots of it. You’d be surprised what I would be willing to pay for.”

“Fuck you.”

He chuckles. “Again, that’s a freebie. I’ll text you later.” Swiveling around, I glower at him. “I didn’t give you my number.”

“I’ll find it. When I do, be prepared to negotiate. Do you have Apple Pay?”

I don’t reward him with an answer, but instead flip him off. I’ve already given him too much.

“Set it up if you don’t have it,” he booms. “I’d pay five hundred dollars just to watch you suck on that middle finger for thirty seconds.”

Five hundred dollars?!

“A picture, and it’s going to cost you a thousand,” I scream back at him, hating how tears are once again flooding my cheeks.

“Ahh, look how you’re learning. Good girl. Talk soon.”

I hate how the entire elevator ride down to the bottom floor I sob, knowing I’d absolutely give him that stupid picture for a thousand dollars.

In less than thirty minutes, this man completely transformed who I thought I was. I dread to think what he could do in a day or two, or a week.

He’s going to destroy me. What’s worse, I’ll let him.

***

WINSTON

stare at the second hand on my Breguet 18k white gold retro watch as it ticks slowly by. Mother is droning on about a gala to Tinsley while Perry adds his two cents. Nate, my wingman whenever I’m forced to have brunch with my family, cheerfully asks my mother a million questions, which I know thrills her to no end. Vivian, Elaine, and Keaton all stare at their phones, wishing away the

minutes, much like I do.

“That’s great, Mother,” Perry rumbles. “Right, bro?”

When Keaton doesn’t answer, I cut my gaze to my obnoxious younger brother. “Pardon?”

Tinsley rolls her eyes at me, and Mother smirks. Perry’s blue eyes that match mine exactly, sparkle with mischief. He may be an adult, but he’s still every bit a child to me.

“Her idea about your birthday party.” Perry leans back in his chair, curling his arm around Mother’s shoulders as if to claim her as only his.

Mother preens a little at her son’s attention. “Oh, darling,” she coos. “Winston doesn’t care about such things.”

For fuck’s sake. Here we go.