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Holly
You’re a fool. As soon as the words left my lips, I knew it was always going to be yes. The feminist inside me, the strong woman who takes no shit and has ambition tattooed on her soul, mocks me as I fold under the most exquisite pressure.
I want him. The man who just opened up like a beautiful, impressive, rare breed of plant and showed me the beauty inside. He trusted me with something that must have been unbearable to witness and then live with forever more. To tell someone even part of that story would be difficult, but just seeing the dead expression on his face when he relayed it made my heart break and my head understand. Can I help? Possibly not, but I want to. I want to bring some light to his world, to help him heal and yet I’m under no illusions it will be reciprocated.
Dexter wants to control me. To be his sex toy and to be his partner in life that he gets to mold into his idea of the perfect woman. No emotion, no shit because that man has emotion written in war paint on his soul. He is a challenge, a definite challenge, but I’m always up for those and as I sit cradled in his arms, I am forgiven everything because this almost feels normal.
Dinner tonight is a more intimate affair. We talk, we laugh and, to anyone watching, we have known each other for years. Tonight, everything that happened before is paused to resume at a later date, because tonight, we are normal.
“So, baby, tell me how you came to work for Media Corp?”
I can tell he is genuinely interested, and I smile. “I’ve always been ambitious; I suppose it comes with the territory of not having much as a child. The only thing I was good at was writing, and I had a thirst for knowledge that journalism seemed to quench. My father is in the military but you already know that.”
He laughs softly and I roll my eyes. “In fact, you probably know everything about me already. I’m guessing you do your homework, Mr. Prince, and could tell me my favorite color, best day ever and the current state of my bank account.”
“Maybe, then again, there’s an important part of you I’m struggling with.”
“I think you’ve discovered every part of me, sir.”
I flutter my eyelashes and he raises his glass in a salute, “And what an enjoyable voyage of discovery it was.”
Suddenly, he looks more serious. “No, it’s your mind I have no control over and that scares me because I don’t know what you’re thinking. Do you play poker, Holly?”
“No, why?”
“Because you’d be a natural. You give nothing away, which is a good trait to have when you’re learning about people’s lives and shocking news first-hand. You don’t let your emotions show, I like that.”
“Says the man who won’t allow emotion into his life. I kind of expected you would.”
“Touché.”
Once again, he raises his glass and I smile.
“This is nice.”
“It is.”
“It almost feels as if this is our first real conversation and it’s been well over a week since you ruined my life and made me your prisoner. Goodness, how time flies.”
He laughs softly and I love how that makes him look. More relaxed, the stress lines banished and a more carefree dictator than the dominant, angry, powerful one I have come to expect.
Leaning on the table, I say with interest, “This place, have you had it long?”
“A while, possibly seven years, but it could be eight.”
“Do you come here often?”
I wink and he shakes his head. “Not as much as I’d like, which reminds me, I have an interesting activity planned for us tonight.”
Now I’m almost squirming because I wondered when he’d bring it back to the reason he wants me here. In fact, I feel a little sad about that because conversation counts for a lot when you’re getting to know one another. Sex is great, more than great, but I’m learning a lot about him tonight and I’m starting to like the man behind the monster.
Almost as if he can read minds, he says almost sadly, “Tonight is necessary to show you who I really am. I want you to be comfortable around me. I want you to be able to ask me anything and not be afraid I’ll bite your head off. I may be the one in charge but I am human after all and this—arrangement can work well for us both.”
“How do you imagine it working, I’m curious?”
For the first time, I realize he hasn’t colored in the details and he smiles.
“Maybe we should head to the den. I have it all waiting.”
Just like that, the moment of intimacy is gone, and it reverts back to a business transaction. Hiding my disappointment about that, I say brightly, “Of course, can I bring my champagne, I think I’ve developed quite a taste for it.”
Reaching out, he grabs the bottle and winks. “Good idea, it will come in handy.”
As we walk from the room, I wonder what he’s going to raise a toast to because if there’s anything waiting that I don’t like, I’m calling time on this. Period.
