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Nathaniel
I spent all weekend either reliving every second I’d spent with Poppy in my gallery or glaring at my phone, making sure I hadn’t missed a message or a text from her. The fact that the little doe was a virgin only has me more eager to claim her again. And again.
At my age, I’d definitely thought my deflowering days were over, and that I would never have the good fortune of being with a woman so young and beautiful… but then fate blew Poppy into my life. Before our erotic moment at the gallery, there was only one other person I’d told about my rough childhood. And that was Danneel.
My parents were poor and from the wrong side of the tracks. My father was a laborer by day and a drunk by night. My mother had a string of jobs that came and went, but nothing that stuck. She couldn’t handle authority—people telling her what to do, especially if they were male. I suppose, she got enough flack of my father, and there isn’t a day that I don’t remember the bruises on her face most mornings. The strange this was, even with such imperfections, she was still so beautiful. As beautiful as the canvas that I showed Poppy at the gallery.
Poppy—my mind wanders back to her and my proposition. I know I told her Monday was fine. Part of me, maybe a cocky part, assumed she’d come back with an enthusiastic yes before that.
I mean, she’d be making more money over the next few weeks than most people her age. And despite me being her first lover, based on how she’d responded to me, I didn’t think that spending those weeks as my lover would be a hardship.
I glance at the time on my phone. She’s ten minutes late.
Roberto comes out of his office, holding his own phone. “The intern called in sick,” he tells me, shoving his phone back in his pocket.
“She did?”
He nods.
“You talked to her?”
He glances at me. “Obviously, man. She said she has food poisoning and she can’t come in. She’s hoping to be in tomorrow, and she apologizes for being out.”
He walks off, and I find myself staring off into space. My gut twists.
She’s avoiding me.
If she doesn’t want to accept my deal, all she has to do is tell me so.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” I call out to Roberto, and then I make my way out to the parking lot. I double
-check her address on my phone, and then I’m doing something I’ve never done in my life.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I must be out of my goddamn mind.
But lying and avoiding me is not okay, and if she wants to turn me down, I want to get that over with now, not later—whenever she decides to come back to work.
Fuck. If that’s the case, I can avoid her for the next few weeks. Roberto can work with her.
As much as I want to believe that it was a mistake to have sex with her, and offer her what I did, I can’t regret it.
A while later, I pull into a parking spot in front of a big, nondescript brick apartment building. This neighborhood is not the greatest—definitely not the kind of area where you want to be walking alone at night. I glance around, then go inside and take the elevator up to the sixth floor. Poppy’s apartment is at the end of the hall, and I take a deep, steadying breath before I knock.
A moment later, the door opens, and I’m face-to-face with Bruce. My driver. Her father.
“Fancy seeing you here, boss!” Bruce says heartily, and I give him what I hope is a relaxed smile. “I was just checking on my girl. Poor kid. Never, ever get seafood pizza,” he says, shaking his head, and I feel the knot in my stomach unwind, just a little.
“How’s she feeling?” I ask.
“Pretty rough,” Bruce says. “You here to check on her too?”
“Roberto told me she called in sick, and she seems like the type who’d try to come to work even if she was in a full body cast, so I figured it had to be bad,” I say, managing to get the half-truth out smoothly, but unable to meet Bruce’s eyes. This man has worked for me for a few years now. He’s a good man.
And I’ve fucked his virgin daughter, and I’m determined to fuck her many, many more times in the future.
Awkward doesn’t begin to describe it.
