I remained silent. He probably expected me to nod and whisper “okay,” the way I had done a thousand times before.
His voice was so gentle, so reasonable. And somehow it made me feel like this fight, like many others, were all because of me.
“I’m going to take a quick shower. I’ll join you in about fifteen minutes.”
I nodded as he left to go upstairs and I finally let my shoulder sag.I knew it was too good to be true.
Gavin doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t know how to. And the only reason he ever tried was to soften the next blow.
His apologies weren’t for me. They were for him: a buffer, a shield—a way to convince himself he wasn’t as bad as he really was.
My phone buzzed.
I looked down to see a message, one that made my anticipation spike and my knees buckle as my fingers trembled, my breath suddenly too loud in the silence of the kitchen.
Beckham
Looking forward to our session together, my little flower.
Chapter five
Rosenna
Itwasthedayof the “session” with Beckham, and to say I was nervous would be a huge understatement. Reaching the address he’d sent, I noticed it was a finished warehouse turned into an art studio, I assumed. Getting out of the car, I grabbed my belongings and dusted off my black tights. I decided to wear a shoulderless, long-sleeve white fitted crop top with a pair of black leggings, some white chunky sneakers, and white ankle socks.
I was only dressed this way since it was my day off, and no matter what time we finished, I needed to go to the gym for at least an hour to relieve some stress. I felt like it was a bit revealing, but I assumed I would only be dressed this way for a short while as he probably had something for me to choose from, considering he told me to dress comfortably.
Making it to the door, I knocked and waited for a while before the man himself opened it. Once I saw him, I knew I had made a mistake.
He let his eyes wander my entire body, and I felt exposed all of a sudden. He looked hungry, or ratherstarved…for what reason, I was entirely unsure of.
Looking at him somewhat hesitantly, I did my best to keep my calm.
I wasphysicallyhere. There was no turning back after entering through this door.
There were a million reasons why I couldn’t be here, a million reasons why I should keep my distance from this man—and yet after replaying the scenarios over and over of things potentially taking a turn for the worse,I didn’t cancel.I didn’t back out and I didn’t know why.
“Come in, Flower.” He ushered me inside, and my stomach flipped at the nickname he’d been calling me recently.
I looked around to see that his home was basically split into two. One half was dedicated to his works of art, his portraits, paintings, sculptures, carvings. The other half had held his rustic living room, small dining room table, his kitchen, and a spiral staircase that led upstairs. Huge windows let in the sun, and lights hung from the tall ceiling.
It was not entirely what I’d expect from a billionaire’s son, but none of my reasonable expectations were met with Beckham. Nevertheless, his home, his space was oddly inviting and almost cozy.
I turned to look at him to see he was still looking at me, studying my features. I cleared my throat, and he looked up into my eyes before directing me over to his setup.
He had a canvas set on an easel, and in the middle of the room, there was a cushioned bench in the middle with a chunky dark maroon knit blanket. He went over to his desk and grabbed a few of his utensils before standing in front of me. I played with my sleeves as I felt the pressure under his gaze.
“Is... there anything you need me to do now?” I filled the silence.
He remained impassive as he responded:“Strip.”
My eyes widened dramatically. I blinked at him, my mind virtually short-circuiting. “I’m... I’m sorry?”
He approached me slowly, towering over me.
“You heard me, Flower… or do you want me to repeat myself?”
I remained still, utterly shocked.
