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There was really only one way to solve the mystery. I’d have to open the box.
Tucking it under my arm, I returned to the kitchen, put the bottle of wine away, and then picked up my glass. I sipped at my drink as I padded back to my bedroom, where I then placed the box on the bed.
Setting my glass on the nightstand once more, I let out a shaky breath. It took me a few seconds to peel off the small pieces of tape that secured the box shut. Removing the lid, I found another much smaller box inside. This one was patterned and wrapped in cellophane. And I knew exactly what it contained.
My stomach clenched hard. Danton didn’t do gifts, but there was one thing he consistently bought me every couple of months—this specific brand of perfume, which only came in a very small bottle. I’d worn it the first night we met. From then on, he’d liked me to wear it for him, just as he’d occasionally asked me to wear a particular dress or outfit.
Essentially, he liked to dress his doll himself, though not in person.
I hadn’t only spritzed on the perfume when meeting him at the club. I’d used it pretty much every day at his request. It had seemed like his way of ‘marking’ me, though I couldn’t be sure.
Spotting a small slip of paper, I lifted it. It was a handwritten note, I quickly realized. It read:Cat. I meant to give this to you at the club last weekend. You might as well have it. D.
A force wrenched at my gut. I got it now. He’d recently bought it for me as usual, unaware that I meant to end things, and he figured there was no sense in keeping it.
I closed my eyes. He hadn’t meant for it to be a kick to the gut, I knew that. But it felt like one all the same. Felt similar to an ex handing back possessions that you’d left at his home. It made our parting ways seem sofinal.
Snapping open my eyes, I grabbed my phone and unblocked his number. I needed to text him. I needed to give him a ration of shit for … for … well, nothing. It would be for nothing. He hadn’t done anything wrong, had he?
If he’d even suspected that this would hurt me, he wouldn’t have done it. I believed that down to my bones. Danton could be a ruthless shit, but he wasn’t a bastard for the sake of being one.
Staring down at my cell, my thumbs hovering over the screen, I bit my lip. This was dumb. I should just block his number all over again and then get on with my evening. But I found myself rapidly typing:You didn’t need to send me the perfume.
Worse, I pressed fucking ‘send.’
Groaning, I tossed my cell on the mattress. The wine. I blamed the wine.
Ooh, wine.I took my glass from the nightstand and downed almost half of it in one gulp. The girls were going to give me so much shit for this, and rightly so. Everyone knew better than to text their ex—or ex-club-buddy, whatever—when they’d been drinking. It simply was not done.
My phone beeped, signaling an incoming message. I blinked, surprised. I hadn’t been expecting a response from him, let alone for one to come so fast.
Maybe the text wasn’t from Danton. Maybe it was from one of my friends.
After placing down my glass, I snatched my phone from the bed. No, the message was from Danton all right.I wasn’t gonna give it to someone else.
No, he’d pick a different perfume for his next toy. But I didn’t care about that. I didn’t. Nope. I began texting a message saying as much, but then I cursed at myself for being an idiot, deleted the whole thing, and typed a simple:Thanks.
There. Done. We could now just forget—
My phone chimed again. A peek at the screen told me it was another message from Danton.Answer the phone.
I frowned, confused. Until it then began to ring in my hand.Shit.
I stared at it, biting the inside of my cheek. I shouldn’t answer it. I should let it go to voicemail. I should make—
I answered it. “Hello?” The greeting came out quiet and soft.
A low male hum. “I half-expected you to ignore my call.”
God, I’d missed that voice. Which was ridiculous. It was just a freaking voice.
“I almost did,” I admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “So, um, what do you want?”
“From you? Same thing I always want,” he said, the words practically dripping with sex.
My lower stomach clenched. “I’ll rephrase. Why did you call?”
A short pause. “I wanted to check on you; see how you’re doing.”
