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“No.” I feel my eyes flash with an energy that surprises me as he raises his eyes. “No?”
“I want to earn people’s respect. If I’m to do this, nobody must know you are doing me any favors.”
He falls silent and I can tell he’s wrestling with something and for some reason, I feel weary. Just talking about this like it’s some form of contract is not sitting well with me. He wants to control every part of me and as much as I like the thought of being with him, the terms suck because he just wants me for sex and the job is the golden carrot designed to trap me.
I’m almost crying when I shake my head and say sadly, “I can’t agree to something I feel uncomfortable with, as much as I desire the opportunity. Right now, I have nothing—you’ve seen to that and in your eyes am in the perfect place to agree to everything you say. You hold all the cards and I have nothing; how can I sacrifice my principles under those terms?”
I look up and smile regretfully. “I do want you, sir. For the most part, I’m enjoying this experience but it’s not enough. If I’m honest, I’m a little afraid of you. You turn in a split second and the way you made me feel earlier, well, it made me feel—disposable.”
He nods and my heart sinks as I sense him retreating and know I’ve just signed my exit strategy.
Taking another slug of my drink, I place it on the side and say regretfully, “Maybe we should keep things strictly professional from now on and when I’m allowed to leave, I’ll look for another job.”
“Holly.”
His deep voice sounds commanding and yet wrapped in softness, and I look at him nervously.
“I want you to trust me, understand me even, and so I need to tell you something that may shock you. I’m not sure if I can even complete the sentences but I’m going to try—because I value what we could have.”
This is so unexpected and I stare at him in surprise and yet hang onto his every word because I so need to hear whatever he has to say.
He appears a little lost for words and that’s so unlike him and as the tortured expression reflects back at me, I hitch my breath as I wait for what he thinks will change everything.
“I can’t love. I can’t allow myself that luxury because of something that happened in my past.”
He exhales sharply and I prepare myself for the old story of an unrequited love or something, a betrayal perhaps, but nothing prepares me for the story he tells me through faltering speech and fractured sentences. There is no emotion as he tells me the circumstances surrounding his sister’s death and the dead way he speaks make my heart break. He delivers the shocking tale as if he’s talking about someone else proving to me that Dexter Prince is fifty shades of fucked up.
As he breaks off, he looks me directly in the eye and says dully, “Any questions?”
For a moment I can’t form words because the horror of his past deserves better comment than any I can think of and I say softly, “I’m sorry,”
He nods. “Thank you.”
I feel a little confused and wonder if I should say anything because I heard a very different story to this one and he says calmly, “Spit it out, Holly.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yes, you already said that. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m sorry…” He raises his eyes and I say quickly, “It’s just that I read your sister died from a mystery illness. I read none of what you’ve told me. The mafia connection. I don’t even recall a trial, or anything about the incident in the news. How can that be because surely this would have been running in the news for months, if not years?”
He nods and my breath hitches when he stares at me with so much power in his eyes, I am instantly speechless. Dexter Prince is most definitely the devil because just that one look alone, tells me that he can indeed do anything he wants, even re-write history.
