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“With two employees always a few feet away, prepared to do anything I ask of them,” Pierce answered. “When I exercise in the gym, there’s an attendant nearby. When I watch TV in the theater room, there’s a servant standing by the door, waiting to get me drinks or snacks. At all times, I’m surrounded by people who work for me. Even when it’s just Andrew or Tristan, who I consider my friends, I’m not alone.”
“You have control over that,” I pointed out. “You can make everyone leave. If you want solitude, it’s a single command away.”
Pierce waved his beer bottle. “Sure, but that’s not the point. Out here, I can change my clothes and blend in a little. Most people on the street can tell I’m an American at a single glance, but they don’t know who I really am. It’s the closest thing I can get to feeling… normal.”
A week ago, I would have laughed in his face. The poor billionaire who just wants to blend in. How sad! But Pierce was actually being vulnerable with me, opening up in a way that I hadn’t expected. And after spending two weeks with him, surrounded by servants and employees, I kind of understood where he was coming from.
“That’s why I’m here,” he finished. “It’s one of the rare times I can have an authentic human experience with a place. It’s the only time I ever get to be alone.”
A pang of guilt filled me. “Sorry for stalking you. I should have left you alone.”
Pierce shrugged. “I knew you would follow me.”
I gave a start. “Why?”
“Because,” he replied, “I’ve been ignoring you for the past two days, which annoyed you.”
“What?” I sputtered. “I am not!”
Pierce gave me a flat look. “Melinda. I wouldn’t claim to know you extremely well, but I have been around you enough to get some understanding. You don’t hide your emotions. You wear them on your face. And it’s obvious that you’ve been annoyed since we arrived on my island.”
“Okay, fine.” I put my beer down next to the other three empties. “You flew me onto your yacht at a moment’s notice. Apparently you’ve been waiting two years to find the perfect surrogate, which I still don’t fully believe. And as soon as I sign the contract… you ignore me. First on the Bellerophon, and then on your island. Yes, I’m annoyed that you’ve been ignoring me.”
With all the calmness of an attorney making their case, Pierce said, “I was giving you some space. I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”
I barked a laugh. “You made me sign a contract stating that I’ll fuck you, and now you’re worried about me feeling pressured? Please.”
Pierce didn’t rise to anger. Instead, he began ticking points off on his fingers. “First of all, I didn’t make you sign anything. You’re an adult with agency, and you chose to sign a contract in good faith. Secondly, you don’t have to fuck me. You aren’t required to do anything. As you pointed out, you can ride out the contract and collect the base amount of money when six months is up. And thirdly, yes, I do care about whether or not you feel pressured. I want to have a child. An heir. I want you to be the surrogate, ideally through natural conception. But I don’t think of you as just a carrier for this child. I respect that you’re a woman with her own feelings, ambitions, and desires. A good contract is one where everyone walks away happy. So, yes, I want you to be content with your decisions without any extra pressure. I’m not trying to get what I want and then throw you to the curb. You’re a person, not just an attractive stork.”
Although he spoke calmly, there was a passion deep beneath the words. Pierce wasn’t just saying what he needed to placate me—he meant everything he said. He did care about my feelings.
“I don’t feel pressured,” I said. “And I’m grateful that you see me as a person, and not someone you just want to use. But I’m antsy, Pierce. After ten days on the yacht, and two days on your island, I’m sick of sitting around doing nothing. I’m used to doing things!”
Pierce pulled out some Costa Rican currency and tucked it under the pitcher of chiliguaro. “Then let’s do something. Come on.”
He got up, took my hand, and led me out into the throng of pedestrians on the street.
14
Melinda
Despite being dark out, the streets of San Jose were still packed with people. Pierce’s fingers held my hand tightly as he guided me along, turning right down a larger street, and then left along a smaller alley. He seemed to know where he was going, although it seemed impossible without marked street signs.
“Are you sure this is safe?” I asked.
“Of course it is,” he replied.
I hoped he was right. I was outside my comfort zone, and felt a tingle of anxiety as we delved deeper into the city.
After ten minutes of crowded streets and twisting alleys, we came to a nondescript door behind a restaurant. Pierce knocked; the man who opened the door looked like he wore a permanent scowl, and scanned us up-and-down. Pierce slapped some money into his hand with a handshake, and the man stepped aside.
We descended a narrow staircase, passed through two more doors, and then emerged into a larger space. House music that was muffled by two stories of cement was thumping loudly here, with bulbs of multi-colored LEDs that rotated and spun, giving the room a chaotic, playful feel. The space in the middle of the room was crowded with dancing bodies.
“You dance?” I asked.
Pierce gave me a funny look. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I…” I trailed off. Since arriving on his yacht, I had made a lot of assumptions about Pierce Benning. I was beginning to realize how off-the-mark I was.
