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“You’re welcome,” I said embarrassedly and glanced away before continuing. It was obvious he was waiting for the answer to his question. It was the reason he was trying to get to know me and make me trust him. I had to remember that, despite how I might feel.
“You asked if I will give it a shot, and as much as seeing your pictures surprised me, I can’t do what you want.”
“You can’t work for me?”
I shook my head. “I would feel like a prostitute. Especially moving into your guest bedroom.”
Dallon nodded and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “That was crass. I didn’t think that through very well.” He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “Despite my experiences with women, I feel like I have very little experience with women.”
I smiled a small smile and took a sip of my wine. He wasn’t doing so bad, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.
“I can see how you took it that way. The thing is, I don’t view you that way—I don’t view any woman that way—but I wanted you to be there all the time. I was selfish.”
“I’m kind of surprised you wanted that, to be honest. I mean, I thought you were the type of man that was with a lot of women and wouldn’t want to make them breakfast, let alone have them move in.”
He narrowed his eyes at me again and I wished I hadn’t spoken. The wine was making me too bold. I waited for him to speak, feeling both uncomfortable and needy.
“This was different. I wanted the situation to work between us and had no idea how to go about it. I didn’t originally plan for anyone to move in, but at the end of the session, the idea just... popped into my mind.”
This surprised me. I’d honestly believed that having a live-in plaything had been his plan all along.
“I wanted to take more photos that night, but I knew that I had to stop. We hadn’t signed a contract and I was afraid I’d gone too far. I should say, I knew I’d gone too far. I was worried you might run.”
I looked down, grateful that he’d admitted that. I hadn’t thought he’d seemed worried about me running at the time—in fact, I’d thought he’d seemed arrogant—but now I was starting to wonder whether I had just made assumptions about Dallon King based on his job, looks, and the confident and commanding way he held himself. He’d appeared to me to be a man that was used to getting what he wanted and had life work out for him. I’d assumed women didn’t turn him down.
“And then you did,” he said, finishing both of our last thoughts.
I bit my lip. It felt like he was waiting for an apology, or maybe I felt like I should, but I didn’t. I shifted in my chair before finally responding with another question I had been dying to ask.
“Is that one of the reasons you’ve been so persistent? Because you’re not used to getting turned down?”
He smirked. “If only I were that easy to figure out.”
I smiled. I had to agree with that.
“So, your place,” he said, changing his demeanor and effectively ending the tension that had been building between us. “Do you have a picture of it?”
I would have lied, but I felt like my phone was burning a hole in my purse, and we had promised to be honest. Reluctantly, I dug through it and pulled out my phone. I found the picture, but when he reached to take the phone from me, I pulled back suddenly.
His brows shot up quizzically.
“You have to promise not to get all judgmental about it.”
He looked offended. “Why would I do that?”
“Because your place is gorgeous, and I am going to be living in a studio apartment in Brooklyn. Besides, Sam already gave me the lecture.”
“Hmm,” he said, taking the phone from me. “That doesn’t make me feel too good about your new place. You should work on your openers.”
I watched as he scrolled through the three pictures I had, his face impassive. Maybe he sensed me staring at him and had turned on his poker face.
“Okay,” he said and handed me back my phone.
My mouth fell open. I wanted to punch him. “That’s all you’re going to say? You’re not even going to pretend to like it?”
He shrugged. “Why would I?”
I crossed my arms. “Because it’s the courteous and socially acceptable thing to do.”
He splayed his hands and sat back in his seat. “You know how I feel. I’d rather you live at my place.”
“Still?”
“Still.”
We stared each other down, me glaring and his gaze like steel. He’d admitted he knew it was crass, and yet he made no attempt to hide that he still wanted it. If we lived in a different century, we could be having a conversation about me becoming his mistress.
I had a feeling he wasn’t going to back down.
“I think it’s time for me to go home,” I said, standing up and picking up my purse.
“As you wish. Arnold will take us.”
“Us?” I froze.
“Yes, I’ll accompany you home.”
“I’ll be okay, thank you.” I turned quickly, slinging my purse on my shoulder and starting toward the door.
“Wait,” he said in his commanding tone. I paused and heard him push back his chair, and then he was in front of me, blocking my path. “You’re not taking the subway at this time of night. It isn’t safe.”
Oh wow, he was good. I rolled my eyes for his benefit, but somewhere I was secretly pleased. Whether or not it was for the right reasons, it felt nice to have someone worry about me. I watched his lips as he made the call and wondered again what it would be like to kiss him. He was probably a very good kisser.
Dallon snapped his phone closed. “I don’t have to accompany you, but I’m going to stick around until the car comes and make sure you’re safe.”
“Okay.” I rolled my eyes again.
He frowned. “Hasn’t a boyfriend ever made sure you’ve gotten home safely before? Taken care of you?”
I glanced away, betraying that no, I’d never had a boyfriend like that.
Dallon grunted. “Makes sense.”
I knew what he was getting at—that I was distrusting and skeptical—but I wasn’t going to let him get to me. “Thank you for looking out for me.”
He gave me a small nod. Together, we left the bar and stood on the street, waiting for the car. Suddenly it felt like we had just met again, not like we’d spent the last hour or so talking over drinks and getting to know one another. The realization saddened me.
“When do you move into your new place?” He asked to break the silence.
“Tomorrow.”
“Has your friend—Sam—moved out?”
“She did a few days ago.”
He cleared his throat. “Do you need any help?” he asked it in a tone that sounded like he either didn’t want to or wasn’t sure if he should offer.
“I’m good. Thanks.”
Arnold arrived and Dallon opened the door for me so I could climb in. Instead, I gave him a curt nod and said, “Have a good night,” before turning and walking away. Behind me, I heard him curse softly. I’d only taken a few steps when he appeared in front of me, his arm on my elbow.
“Don’t be infuriating. Get in.”
“Let me go, Mr. King,” I said, my eyes shooting daggers into his. For some reason, I felt like I could burst into tears on the spot. “I’m taking the subway.”
His cheek twitched, but he released me. “Please get in the car. It isn’t safe.”
“I’ve been taking it for a while now. I’ll be fine.” I moved past him, conscious of the way he balled his hands into fists, as if holding himself back. But he let me pass.
“Goodnight, Miss Clair,” I heard him say over his shoulder.
Chapter Seven
When I got home, I called Jeremy.
“Hey, Amy! How’s it going?”
“You told him where I work?”
There was a moment of silence on the line before he responded, sounding guilty. “Yeah, I kind of did. I take it you’re not pleased?”
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I sighed and sat down on my bed, wrapped the covers around me. “He showed up.”
“I kind of expected he would.”
I frowned. “Why’d you tell him?”
“It wasn’t like I meant to. We just had a meeting with their firm and I was making small talk with him. I told him we have a mutual friend and then he started asking questions about you.” Jeremy paused for a moment. “He seemed very interested in you.”
