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"Just sex," Blake offered.
"Right. And after I lived like that for a year or two, I realized I preferred it that way. I didn't have to try to negotiate some messy emotional entanglement. I hadn't met anyone who could hold my interest that long. And that's true for Elizabeth, too. It had just become routine with her. It's not like I was shattered that she married my father. I just thought it was tacky, like everyone else."
"But we won't have a messy emotional entanglement," Blake persisted.
Sheesh. Maybe she really can’t stop thinking about my cock.
I smiled smugly to myself. Wouldn't be the first time.
"And I'm not saying that because I'm desperate to sleep with you—trust me, I'm not," she said, as though she were reading my thoughts. "But I still would like to understand where you're coming from."
"If we have sex, you're going to want it every night," I warned her.
"So that's what you're worried about, big boy?"
I shrugged. "I'm just saying."
"I think I've finally met my ego match." Blake laughed then pointed to herself. "You think you wouldn't want this every night?"
I chuckled. "Of course I would. Well, maybe I would—or maybe your charms would wear thin when you started snoring next to me. Or maybe you'd turn needy. But that's the problem. You'd be here either way while I figured it out. And if we're married, and we're sharing a bed, and we're having dinner together… for a year… that's starting to sound a little bit too much like a relationship to me. And I don't want that. That's messy, and I don't do messy."
"Got it." She drank some more wine. "Enjoy your period of celibacy. I know I will."
"Cheers." I clinked her glass. I sounded sure of myself, but then again, when didn't I?
Later that night, I lay in bed, wide awake. I refused to masturbate. If Blake walked in on me again, she would never let me live it down.
But I was still thinking about her. And not just her hair and her luscious body. I was thinking about when she'd ordered for me at lunch today, and how we liked the same foods. I was thinking about her cheeks getting heated when I ogled that other escort.
I was thinking about holding her hand and introducing her to Herman Pace. I'm expecting the future holds good things for you two. And the pictures, the goddamned engagement pictures…
I lay awake for a long time that night. And I wondered what it would be like if I asked Blake to join me in my bed every night for a year.
And I decided it would be anything but a good thing.
Chapter Eleven
Blake
The reservations had been made, the menus chosen, and the bags packed. We knew what we had to do to obtain a valid marriage license as soon as we landed in Las Vegas. I couldn't believe it: we'd planned an out-of-state, black-tie wedding in less than a week.
Having billions of dollars at your disposal sure helped you get shit done.
I decided to call my mother one last time before we left. But it wasn't my mother who answered her cell phone. "Blake?"
"Chelsea?" My stomach plummeted. "Is Mom okay? Is she sick?"
My sister sniffed. "She's fine now that I'm here."
I felt a sudden, intense headache coming on. "What does that mean?"
"It means it would've been nice if you'd told me you were going out of town so I could check in on her."
You mean so it was safe for you to come over and ask her for money. I bit the thought back. "She's fine. I've been checking on her. I always do."
My sister snorted. "For a hooker, you sure do have a superiority complex."
I counted backward from ten so I wouldn’t jump through the phone and throttle her. "Can I just speak to Mom, please?"
