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So, you’re getting physically aroused from being scolded by an older man as if you’re a stupid horny girl?
Yes, yes, I was.
There would be time for me to sort out the meaning of that, at how humiliating and embarrassing that was, but that time was not now. My task now was to decide if I was going to have the courage to turn around and flee back to my car, or if I was going to do exactly what he told me to do. As before, the reactions of my body were not cooperating, and making this decision was surprisingly more difficult than it should have been. In any other circumstances I would have told him to go fuck himself, spun about on my heel, and headed off to the rest of my life.
Mr. Winters was not the sort of man that would put up with that. And the last thing I wanted was to make this more of a scene than it already was. So, I would talk to him, listen to what he had to say, and then tell him my decision was final.
At least then he would feel heard. Respected. Wasn’t that what men valued the most?
I was sure Mr. Winters was no different. “Okay. I can talk. But I don’t think I’m going to change my mind.”
He stepped aside then, his arm sweeping inside toward the interior of the house. “We’ll just see about that, Ms. Grant. We’ll see.”
I stepped inside, the door slamming behind me with an almost sepulchral thud, a chill of unease dancing down my spine. He followed me closely as I walked to the dining room.
I pulled out one of the sumptuous high-back chairs, the seat a cream overstuffed softness beckoning one to sit, the ornate carving of the legs, the back, and the arms as elegant as any dining room set I’d ever seen. The table and chairs alone probably cost more than the entirety of my earthly possessions.
Surprisingly—or perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised at all—Ellis did not sit. Instead, his arms crossed over his massive chest, he paced slowly back and forth along the other side of the long, broad table not looking at me at all, instead seeming to study the floor intently, as if weighing what to say, or deciding whether or not he was going to explode on me.
I could tell he was angry, the firm set of his jaw, his sudden utter quiet, the tension of the sinews of his forearms signaling in no uncertain terms that this was a very unhappy—and perhaps dangerous—male.
That this display both frightened me and turned me on was as confusing as it had ever been, and Mr. Winters was nothing if not excellent at confusing the living shit out of me, in just about everything he ever did. That was maddening, intriguing, and mystifying.
“Now, I suppose I could ask you why you think that not taking the job is a good idea. But to be honest, I don’t really care why. Because I suspect the reasons that you don’t want to do this are likely to be silly misunderstandings, or simply just nerves.”
NowI was pissed. “Silly? I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not some stupid little girl.”
He spun slowly, facing me, the muscles in his forearms twitching, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Oh, I think that’s exactly what you are. And I think the little treatment I gave you the other night wasn’t near enough.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I held up my hands, then slapped them on the dining room table. “You know what? I don’t care. Let’s just call this a bad idea, and something that we never should have even considered.”
“I want you to close your mouth, and listen to the words I’m saying to you. Can you do that, Lola?”
“I don’t really—”
His voice lowered, the tone almost a growl now. “Isaid, can you do that?”
I didn’t say anything then, wondering what it was he had in mind. if I went by my instincts, they told me to shut the fuck up, or get the hell out. But I knew enough about this man to know that right now doing what he told me to do was probably the better idea. So, I did. “Yes… I can do that, I guess.”
He laid both of his hands atop the back of one of the chairs, his long fingers squeezing it tightly. I initially thought it was from anger, but I quickly realized it was overconfidence. The subtle hint of mirth at his lips confirmed it to me. How was it I had just told him I was calling the whole thing off, and yet, he looked like the cat who got the cream.
“I want you to tell me exactly what it is you’re objecting to with this little arrangement. And don’t bullshit me. Lay it out, whatever it is.”
I definitely didn’t expect that, either, when what I was sure I was going to get from him was a tongue lashing, a scolding. And the whole time I’d have to figure out a way not to be turned on by that too.
You’re so fucked up.
“Setting aside the fact that you’re literally almost twenty years older than me—that’s right, isn’t it? There’s the whole vibe of the payment. I’d be doing this for money, wouldn’t I?”
He inclined his head at me, his eyes watching closely. “I don’t know. Are you?”
“There you go again, answering my questions with a question.” I blew out a breath, staring at the ceiling. Then I met his gaze once more. “The fact that I’m getting paid for this makes this a little bit uncomfortable for me. I mean, we’re not doing anything wrong… but it is a little weird, nonetheless. So, I think I’m going to have to say no. I just… I just can’t do it.”
What I really didn’t expect was the sudden feeling of almost… loss. As if I were passing up the opportunity of a lifetime, something that might be special. Or at the very least, a lot of fucking fun.
And don’t you think that’s exactly what you’re doing?
He began to pace again, seeming to be deep in thought. For a long while he wouldn’t even look at me, the tension and awkwardness of the moment dragging on, deepening. Finally he spoke. “So, let me get this straight. You’re worried that you’re going to be what? A prostitute?”
