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The people who came in flashing new watches or their latest phones were the ones who were faking it. They were pretending to have more cash than they did, and they were trying their very best to waste my time. Maybe it was to look good for other people. Who knew? Some people just liked the feeling of power that came with looking at a million-dollar property.
To make the money I made, I had to read people, and I had to do it fast to avoid wasting my time and getting screwed over. Paige was different, though. She was hard to read. She was curious, but she was cautious, and sometimes, like right now, she was just downright sexy as hell.
She bit her bottom lip and looked at her phone.
Then she shook her head.
“Strike two.”
“Locke, will you shut the fuck up about the strike?” She snapped suddenly, looking up at me. Her eyes were blazing, and she was pissed. Good. I was glad she got all worked up. It made me happy and satisfied that I’d gotten under her skin, even a little.
“And that’s three,” I said calmly. I held out my hand, and even though she probably didn’t know why she was doing it, she slapped her phone in my hand. Then she took her keys and tossed them onto the area rug in the center of the room. They hit the floor, and she raised an eyebrow, challenging me, silently asking me what I was going to do about it.
I slid her phone into my phone and took her hand. Then I guided her to the desk.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
This time, her words held no bark. No bite. This time, she sounded nervous. For the first time since Paige walked into my office, it seemed as though she felt uncomfortable. Apparently, she finally realized who was in control and in charge: it wasn’t her.
“Place your hands on the desk,” I told her. Something changed between us then: a subtle shift in the air, a sudden shift in the dynamic between us. My cock was hard, then, and I wondered if I reached between her legs if she’d be wet for me.
“Why?” She whispered.
I moved behind her, pressing my chest against her back.
“Don’t make this harder on yourself,” I whispered into her ear. “Obey me, Paige.”
She reached out and placed her hands on the desk. I pressed my own hands to her hips, and I held them there for a minute.
“Paige, I demand complete respect.”
“I know,” she whispered. “You tell me that every time I see you.”
“And yet you so often fail to give me the respect I ask of you,” I tell her.
“You ask a lot of me,” she said.
“Not so much,” I started moving my hands up and down her hips. “I don’t ask more than you can give.”
“How do you know how much I can give?”
“I know a lot about you.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re very strong,” I told her. “And that you’ve had to be strong for a very long time.”
I know more about her than I should: more than I’m supposed to know. As far as Paige knows, she’s my tenant and nothing more. The reality is very different. She’s my tenant, yes, but she’s so much more than that. Paige has been through hell. She’s had to learn to survive on her own. She doesn’t know that I know perfectly well what happened to her mother. She doesn’t know that I’ve been trying to find her.
She definitely doesn’t know about her connection to my sister.
I’ve gotten to know Paige for a few months, but always from afar. It wasn’t until just this week that things began to change between us. It wasn’t until this week when I decided it was time to move things forward to find the answers that we both need so very desperately.
“How could you know that I’m strong?” She whispered.
“You take care of yourself,” I say simply. “You don’t depend on anyone.”
“That’s true,” she whispered.
