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Evander drags me from the dining room. I keep pace, fear taking over from the angry embarrassment I felt a few seconds ago.
It occurs to me that yes, I definitely went a little too far, and something else nags at my thoughts.
He called the money hisgenerosity. He called it a gift.
Did I misread that situation?
No, that’s not possible… he left cash by the bed. That’s what guys do when they’re paying hookers.
Right?
I’m starting to feel dizzy as he shoves me into an empty private room and turns on me, his face contorted with rage. “What the fuck was that, Camille?”
I back away from him and bump into a table. “You left money,” I say, feeling stupid. “On the nightstand.”
“Yes, I did, because I know you’re in trouble and there’s no way in hell those credit cards you stole are still working.”
“I didn’t steal them,” I mutter and rub my face. “Wait, you weren’t paying me?”
“Paying you for what?” he asks, throwing his hands up.
“For the sex.”
And his face goes slack. His hands lower.
And he laughs.
The motherfucker laughs at me, and suddenly, the anger’s flooding back.
“No, I wasn’tpayingyou, my god,” he says, shaking his head and chuckling. “Is that what you thought? You thought I was treating you like a hooker?”
“You left money on the nightstand after we had sex all night,” I say through my teeth. “You’re really going to stand there and tell me that’s a crazy thing to think?”
He hesitates as his chuckle fades away. “Maybe not, but it still doesn’t excuse your behavior.”
“You could’ve left a note. You could’ve woken me up and explained. You could’ve done a million things, but what you did do was leave a bunch of cash by the bedside like you were paying me for services rendered. Do you have any clue how humiliating that felt?” My cheeks are bright red and tears gather in my eyes. I will not cry for this man, but I hate him right now, hate him so much.
After everything I did, after how hard I worked to escape Christopher, only forthisto happen.
To be treated like flesh.
Like nothing but a body all over again.
He shakes his head. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“It was mortifying. Fuckingmortifying. I’ve never, ever slept with a man the way I slept with you last night and to wake up to find money on the nightstand was like a slap in the face. You took away any shred of dignity I had left and spit all over it.”
He’s silent for a long moment, studying me with that intense look of his.
I feel exposed, but I wrap myself in my anger and hold it tightly. Maybe I misunderstood his intent, but that doesn’t change what he did and how it made me feel.
Evander’s all but a stranger, and he doesn’t owe me a damn thing, but I am so freaking tired of letting men walk all over me.
For years, I took shit from Christopher. I took my abuse, my pain and my misery, and I swallowed it all down.
Yeah, I got mouthy, but I didn’tdoanything about it.
Until yesterday.
