41

My phone buzzes, and I expect to see a text from Winston. He stayed late at work to meet with Nate and sent me home. Perry gave me a ride and also gave me his card in case I ever needed a friend to talk to. It was sweet, though I feel like Winston won’t think so.

Dad: Your dress arrived, sweetheart. Me: What?

Dad: The one for the Constantine event tomorrow night. Manda said it’s a little simple, but

she’s hired a stylist to come over at five to do your hair and makeup to make you stand out.

Gee, thanks, Dad, for believing Manda that I’ll be the most boring belle at the ball without her swooping in to save the day.

Rather than saying what I think because it’ll be wasted breath since he’s so in love with her, I type out a different reply.

Me: The dress was supposed to come to Winston’s.

I pause to think after I send the text. I’d been so flustered after the orgasm Winston gave me, I wasn’t paying too much attention when Tara, the dress clerk, asked me where to deliver the dress and accessories.

Crap.

Me: Oh no. I think I messed up.

Dad: It worked out then since Manda has graciously offered her stylist. I miss you anyway. Look forward to seeing you.

My heart clenches at getting a small glimpse of the dad who raised me.

Me: Miss you too, Dad. Love you. Dad: Same, sweetheart.

I open Winston’s text conversation and send him what I hope will be the first step in my seduction.

Me: I want to negotiate a deal.

His response is immediate.

Winston: What do you want, little girl? Me: You. I’m willing to pay for it too.

Winston: You want to pay me to have sex with you?

I try not to cringe at how crazy it sounds. But I relax knowing he’s probably smiling and hoping I’m embarrassed by his words.

Me: Yes. 50k.

Winston: That’s expensive, Ash. You have college to think about . . . Me: I’ll earn more later. Whatever you want, I’ll do it. I need this.

Winston: What happened to a freebie? Me: I have certain requests . . .

Winston: Oh?

Me: I want you to treat me like you’re going to keep me forever. Winston: Needy fucking girl.

Me: And I want to sleep in the bed with you. All night long. If you abandon me, you forfeit the money.

Winston: It’s just money.

Me: Fine, if you abandon me, you forfeit me.

Winston: Elaborate, brat, because you’re starting to piss me off.

A flare of heat burns through me, pooling in my gut.

Me: I need this, Win. These are my terms. Winston: Time for me to negotiate . . .

Me: Name your terms.

Winston: I’ll discount it by half if you let me call you names and make you cry.

I should not get a thrill from his words but damn if I’m not turned on.

Me: Doable.

Winston: I’ll knock five more off if we film it.

Me: Deal. Oh, and I get to see you fully naked. Add five back on for that.

Winston: Write ‘Winston’s Dirty Whore’ on your stomach, wait on the bed naked, and I’ll discount it by ten.

Me: So fifteen for a mean fuck where you degrade me but you’ll hold me all night? Winston: And I’m coming inside you.

Thank God I remembered to get back on the pill last week, because I want nothing more than him to do just that.

Me: Deal.

Winston: I’m on my way.

I toss my phone on the dresser and then go on a hunt for a Sharpie. I can’t believe we’ve negotiated this deal. It’s so fucked up, but I want him. I need to feel this connection between us. Quickly, I make my way into his condo office. Of course, his office at home is just as immaculate as his one at Halcyon. I stop to admire a photo of his family when his father was living. This week, knowing I’ll have to see his family tomorrow, I’ve researched all I could about them. His father died in an accident five years ago, and the family has been fractured ever since.

I locate the black Sharpie and then rush back to my room. After stripping, I awkwardly write “Winston’s Dirty Whore,” though it’s hard to read because it’s difficult to write upside down. Once I finish, I send a picture that coincidentally has a picture of my tits too. Like he promised, he continues to pay me for pictures, but he pays a lot more for the ones with nudity.

I receive money from him before a response. Typical Winston.

Winston: Anyone ever tell you you’re wife material?

I roll my eyes but secretly preen at his words. Just like he needs to say depraved shit to me, I need his praise. He layers it on thick, and it’s always bullshit, but I still love it, nonetheless.

Me: Yeah, some guy in the elevator earlier . . .

When he doesn’t reply right away, I have a flare of panic as I imagine him firing every person who works in the building.

Me: Kidding! Abort mission to kill everyone.

Winston: I’m whipping your ass with the belt for that one. Me: No way!

Winston: I’ll buy you a car.

Me: Winston! You can’t buy me a car for whipping my ass! Winston: Anything you want. It’s yours. I get to make it hurt . . . I’m so sick.

So, so sick.

Me: You’re over the top. Maybe I’d let you do it for free.

Winston: And give you a chance to pussy out? Fuck no. I want an iron-clad agreement. My belt gets you whatever the fuck you want. You need a car anyway. You’re giving me ulcers with your Uber threats.

I laugh as I crawl onto the bed and wait for him.

Me: Fine. As long as you coddle me after and make me feel loved.

He sends me a bunch of eyeroll emojis.

Winston: Little girls are so fucking high maintenance.

Me: You’re the one who started this fucked-up ride. Too late to get off now. We’re going full- speed ahead.

Winston: Fine. I’ll baby your ass. Happy?

I send him heart-eye emojis that earn more eyeroll emojis.

I’m laughing until I hear the front door open. Shrimp sings happily from the living room. He always has a special chirp for Winston. Winston doesn’t get it, but it’s a big deal. Shrimp doesn’t warm up to people easily, but he likes Winston.