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I sighed. “Sure, if I get it.”
The conversation felt somewhat morbid—me pretending to want a position when really I had been offered a position, it was just beyond what I’d ever imagined. Part of me was dying to tell Sam the truth, but my embarrassment won out. Like my parents, I wanted her to think that I was going to make it. I also wouldn’t be able to explain to her why I hadn’t punched Mr. King the moment he’d put his fingers between my legs. There was no way in hell that Sam would have put up with that.
“I think I need a glass of wine,” I said and went to help myself in the kitchen.
When Monday afternoon rolled around, and Mr. King still hadn’t responded, I became an emotional wreck. I oscillated from shame and self-pity to anger, and finally the last one stuck—I was seething and ready to rip him a new one. Who did he think he was, not bothering to respond to my email? Did he think he could get away with it? Well, I’d show him that I was not the pushover he’d so obviously labeled me. If necessary, I would embarrass him in front of all his colleagues, out him for being a complete pig.
By the afternoon, I’d decided to take matters into my own hands. I took the subway back to his office, seething the entire way. My anger didn’t even fade when I stepped into the lobby. Madeline the receptionist looked surprised to see me again so soon but greeted me warmly.
“I have to speak with Mr. King about an urgent matter,” I said in a clipped tone.
“Mr. King is very busy today,” Madeline warned me.
“It will only take five minutes.”
“All right then, I’ll try.” She picked up her phone. “Mr. King, Miss Clair is here. She says she needs to speak with you about an urgent matter.”
I bit my lip, waiting for him to tell her to throw me out. Instead, her eyes widened in surprise and she opened a calendar on her computer. “It’s in fifteen minutes. Should I cancel, or tell them you’ll be late?”
I was momentarily surprised, and then suspicious. Perhaps he thought I was going to take him up on his offer. That I was so desperate for a job, I would allow myself to be treated that way again.
Boy would he be surprised.
Madeline escorted me down the hall, looking at me as if for the first time. “It must be very important,” she said to herself or me, I wasn’t sure which.
Some of my anger was slipping, and I tried to stir it back up again. Confronting him had seemed like a much better idea before I’d left the house. I’d been so busy fuming; I hadn’t taken the time to think about what I would do when I actually saw him again.
Madeline opened the door and announced my entrance before hastily exiting again. Mr. King was resting his chin on his hands, a smug smile on his face.
“I was hoping you would return.”
“You didn’t respond to my email.”
“No, I did not. Like I said, I was hoping you would return.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not here because of that. I’m here to find out what you plan to do with those pictures.”
“It’s really none of your business,” he said calmly.
“None of my business? The pictures are of me!” I was angry again and didn’t care who heard me. Good, I’d ruin his reputation.
Mr. King seemed unfazed by my outburst; he simply shrugged casually. “You signed an agreement.”
“Yeah, an agreement that says I won’t tell anyone. And don’t worry, I won’t be telling anyone about your sick project!”
He put a hand against his heart, pretending to be wounded. “That hurts, Miss Clair.”
“You never even told me what your project was about before you…” My sentence trailed off, but he ignored it anyway.
“The agreement read that in addition to not betraying my projects, whatever photographs we took would become my property,” he said softly.
My mouth fell open. “You didn’t tell me that either. You tricked me and I trusted you like an idiot.”
He smirked. “You’re young. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
My hands balled into fists at my sides. I was either going to destroy his office in a rage or burst into tears, I didn’t know which. My heart was beating so fast, it took me a few moments to speak.
“You are a bad guy,” I said finally, holding back my tears.
Mr. King chuckled and stood up, came around his desk to stand in front of me. He moved to touch my hair but I jerked away.
“I’ve heard that before, but that’s what some people like about me,” he whispered in my ear.
I began to shake. “What are you planning to do with those pictures? Are you going to sell them on some porn site or something?”
“Of course not.” He looked disgusted with the idea. “I’m not a total cretin.”
“You just trick twenty-something girls into letting you take pictures of them.”
“Twenty-two year old girl,” he corrected, sitting down on his desk and crossing his arms. “And as I recall, this whole thing went down a lot differently. We took some test pictures, I offered you a modeling job, and you turned it down. We entered into some consensual foreplay—because let’s face it, you didn’t stop me—I went upstairs to bring you breakfast the next morning, and you were gone. I thought you weren’t interested. In my proposal or in me.”
I stared at him. How could such a gorgeous and successful man be completely insane? How was it that he got by day to day without anybody realizing it?
“Sit down, Amy,” he said sternly.
“No.”
His jaw clenched. “That was your free pass, Amy. I’ve let you storm into my office and say what you want, and now it’s my turn. The next time you disrespect me, I’ll take you over my knee, no matter where we are.”
“I’m not into that kind of thing,” I retorted, crossing my arms.
His look didn’t waver. “We’ll find out.”
My legs practically buckled under me as I sank down on his pristine couch. I had to find a way to get those pictures back. Even if he actually was being honest and didn’t plan to sell them, the idea of him keeping them to look at as desired freaked me out.
“Let’s talk this through, shall we?” he said and moved his desk chair in front of the couch again, sat down on it. “You’re angry, I can see that. But isn’t there a part of you that is interested in my proposal?”
“No! I just want my pictures.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I beg to differ, Amy. I think you enjoyed our time together much more than you’re letting on. I felt it with my own fingers.” He lifted his right hand and twitched his fingers, smiling a half smile.
Blood rushed to my cheeks, but I clenched my jaw and didn’t drop my gaze.
“Now,” he leaned forward and clasped his hands together loudly. “You claim to be here about the pictures, but I think there is something more. I think you’re actually interested in getting to know me better.”
“In your dreams,” I said and crossed my arms.
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not such a bad guy. I said I would give you a decent salary and a place to live. Have you found another place to live in the meantime?”
“Anywhere but with you!” I spat.
“Don’t be childish.” He frowned at me as if disappointed. “And it’s impolite not to answer a question.”
I sat there, seething.
He sighed, leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “All right, seeing as you seem a bit shy about going first, how about I start? When you came into my office on Friday afternoon, I could tell you were completely nervous about the modeling thing. You met all of the physical requirements I listed, but you definitely didn’t have the personality.”
I glared at him, but he only smiled and continued.
“Still, there was something about you that I instantly liked. Something raw. Genuine. Learning more about you, something struck a chord with me. I loved your blush.”
At the last sentence, Mr. King turned a bit red himself and sat forward quickly, as if to draw
attention away from it. My breathing slowed slightly at his confession, despite how I felt about him.
He cleared his throat. “Many women have called me a jerk over the years, and I get that. I can be emotionally insensitive at times. I’ve never cared about what they think or what they’re about, but you’re different, Amy. I want to get to know you.”
I rolled my eyes and looked away. “So you can take more photographs of me?”
It took him a moment to respond. “Well, yes. But also because… you turn me on.”
My head snapped back to him and I gaped. “So you want to have sex with me? Well sorry, Mr. King, but I’m not that kind of girl.”
