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Back then there was no YouTube to put said videos on, no antibullying campaigns on Facebook, no regulations in the school—at least not any that people took seriously. She’d been alone in her misery, and the torture continued all the way until adulthood.
“What if . . .” He cleared his throat. “What if you fell in love with someone who was rich?”
She snorted. Was he serious? “Not gonna happen.”
“How do you know? Maybe you wouldn’t know he’s rich at first . . .”
“I can smell rich people a mile away in a rainstorm.” She gave him a cocky look. “Nothing slips by me.”
A strangled laugh escaped him. She turned her head and bit his skin playfully.
“Watch it, girl,” he rumbled, making a thrill rush through her.
“Mmm.” She almost purred. Down, girl. “Anyway, I believe you choose who you love. It’s very controlled, very calculated.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Then why does everyone call it ‘falling’?”
She froze, keeping her gaze carefully set on the ceiling. If she looked at him now, he’d see the doubt in her eyes. There was no way she was going to fall for him first. When this happened—if it happened—she would be in control. Maybe a Dom could master her orgasms, but no one could master her heart.
* * *
Frustration made her grind her teeth as she typed int
o her phone.
Hello? You can’t just stop talking to me because you don’t have an answer.
When nothing came back right away, she grunted and shoved the phone into her purse. She took a minute pretending to check her hair in the break room mirror just to give her time to calm down.
“Everly!” Alison, the receptionist, shouted from the front. “Your next appointment is here.”
“Be right there!” Slowly, she inhaled then exhaled a deep breath, watching the stress leave her face. Next, she put on a cheery smile, satisfied that it looked real.
It’d been five days since she’d last seen Ambrose. Four days of texting. Three days of suspicion. He was stalling, which meant he was lying. But why would he lie about where he lived? Why wouldn’t he let her see his place? Something wasn’t adding up, and she was starting to worry he was hiding something. Was he seeing somebody else? Flashes of catching Scott with Mindy entered her mind, making her panic. The worst part wasn’t catching them together—it was how stupid she’d felt because she’d assumed they were exclusive.
But Ambrose had seemed sincere about their relationship. He wouldn’t break their agreement already, would he? He wasn’t living with someone, or married?
She had to clear those questions from her mind now, though, or she’d let her anger out while styling her client’s hair. That never turned out well.
“Hi, Genevieve!” she crooned as she walked toward one of her regulars in the front. “How are you today?”
“Fabulous.” They hugged, then Genevieve stepped back and looked her over. “You went back to pink?”
Everly led her client to her chair. “Yeah. I got bored.” She’d gradually exchanged the purple streaks for pink panels throughout the week. Changing the purple to pink or pink to blue or brown to blonde or black to red was commonplace for her, and for most hairdressers. Coloring her hair was like playing dress-up, only it lasted a little longer.
She’d never cared what anyone thought of her wild hair before, but since she’d done it, her stomach had been twisted into knots, worrying what Ambrose would think. Silly, because she still answered only to herself. She didn’t want a Master who controlled how she looked. But like any girl, she wanted him to be attracted to her. He’d passed a lot of tests so far—was he up for the hair challenge?
Ugh. She wished he’d just text back so she knew he was even alive!
“It’s cute,” Genevieve said.
“Thanks.” She stood behind her client, adjusting the chair to the right height. “So what can I do for you today?”
By the time she finished Genevieve’s foil highlights, her feet felt like someone had stuffed two inflated balloons in her shoes.
