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Camden doesn’t respond well to threats or ultimatums, but when I’m just talking, he tends to react reasonably.
“You’re off work for three days and your classes are Tuesdays and Fridays.”
“How do you know my schedule?”
He shoots me a snide look before focusing on the road again.
Of course. Why did I ask.
“You’re such a fucking stalker. You still can’t kidnap me just because you feel like it. I have plans.”
So much for staying calm.
“You need to look up the definition of kidnapping, princess. I’m not supposed to check your plans before holding you captive against your will.”
There’s no reasoning with the dick, and I’m too tired to try.
Instead, I remove my shoes and check on my blisters. When I’m done, I lift my feet to the dashboard. Maybe I can annoy him into letting me go. No one wants gross, sweaty feet on their brand-new ride.
No such luck. He doesn’t even blink.
“Just so you know,” I say, “I’m not fucking you.”
I need to get the words out there.
He snorts dismissively, and drives in silence for a time.
The ride is not disagreeable, overall. He lets me pick the music without complaints, and his car’s a lot more comfortable than any of the others I’ve ever traveled in. Except maybe his fancy Aston Martin, but I didn’t pay attention to the comfort level on the way to his place back then.
“Why do you do it to yourself?” Camden asks out of the blue.
“What, work? Because I have bills to pay, Camden. Welcome to the real world.”
“You could let me take care of them.”
He really doesn’t get it. “I’ve never sold my body and I don’t intend to start now.”
“Haven’t you?” He tilts his head. “Look at your feet. You’re selling your body right now. Just not for very much gain. I’d take care of you.”
“You’d ruin the only thing I have: my self-worth.”
He’s already done it once, and I didn’t get paid for it. If money exchanged hands, I’d never recover. I’d see myself as the world sees me: like trash.
“I don’t want a whore, Morgan. I wouldn’t treat you like one. I want to fuck you, and you have basic, immediate needs that I can easily fulfill. That’s the basic principle men and women have followed for thousands of years.”
“You missed the last couple of centuries, where we actually worked pretty damn hard to be treated like more than cunts on legs, asshole.”
“Oh, no, I paid attention. Which is why I want you to be more than a scullery maid rushed off your feet and barely getting an education.”
“Scullery maid,” I laugh.
God, he’s such an asshole.
“Maid, waitress. The main difference is the uniform. You’re worth more.”
“And taking your dick for my paycheck is more?”
“I’m only offering the benefits I’d give to any woman in your position: comfort, security, luxury. Any girlfriend of mine would expect as much.”
