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I raised an eyebrow at him, then said, “Let’s go check the drawer these cuffs came from for a key, just in case Dante was lying and there really is an easy way to open them.”
Chapter Eleven
I was still wearing manacles and my new blonde accessory when I returned home an hour later. Austin remained amused as hell by this whole thing, which was good. It would have been no fun at all to be chained to a cranky rent boy for hours on end.
There had been no key, and on closer inspection of the cuffs, no lock either. I’d tried to figure them out and failed miserably. So until I either discovered the secret to opening them or located some sort of industrial grade metal saw, Austin and I were inseparable.
We were already adapting to our situation. Driving home had given us a crash course (thank God not literally) in teamwork. I’d driven with my right hand, my chained left arm crossed over my body, and Austin had shifted with his free left hand. Which had been interesting, since he’d never actually driven stick. But he learned fast as I talked him through it.
Somehow we actually made it home this way, and as we stepped through the door of my apartment, Austin said cheerfully, “Any time you’d like me to begin my lecture on what a terrible person Dante Dombruso is, just let me know.”
“We’ve got time, Austin. Pace yourself.” We went through to the kitchen, and he stopped short when Peaches started growling at us from inside his pen.
“What the fuck is that?” he asked.
“That’s Peaches.”
Austin burst out laughing. “Of course it is.”
“Want something to drink?” I asked as I pulled the refrigerator open and grabbed a soda, popping it open with my thumb. Since Dante had fastened my left hand to Austin’s right, I still had the use of my dominant hand. Which was something at least.
“I’m good. Thanks, though.”
I regarded Peaches, who showed me his teeth when he saw me looking at him. “I need to take the dog for a walk. He probably needs to pee.”
“Ok. Let’s go,” Austin said agreeably.
“There’s a problem. He won’t let me pick him up. I need to put on those big leather gloves over there on the counter so he doesn’t bite me, but I can’t do that with my wrist chained.”
He chuckled at that. “Wow, and you seemed so normal when I first met you.”
“What does that mean?”
“You look like the archetypal all-American boy – clean-cut, wholesome.” I noted that my rent boy had an impressive vocabulary. And then I chastised myself for having automatically assumed he wouldn’t be that bright. He was saying, “But it turns out, you date mob bosses and keep rabid vermin as pets. You’re a total freak.”
I grinned at him. “Thanks.”
“So, what happened between you two that led to this?” He jingled the chain that linked us.
“Dante got freaked out about hurting me and broke up with me. But I told him I didn’t accept our break-up. Not when I know for a fact we both want to be together.”
“How did he hurt you?”
“Um….” I blushed embarrassedly. But come on, I was talking to a prostitute here. This guy had heard, and probably done, it all. There really wasn’t a reason to be embarrassed around him, so I admitted honestly, “He spanked me so hard that he bruised me. And when he realized that, he got really upset and withdrawn. Right after that, he broke up with me.”
“Now why the hell would that bother him?” Austin mused. “He bruises the hell out of me all the time, and doesn’t bat an eye.” But then a look of understanding appeared on his pretty face, and he said, “Oh.”
“Oh what?”
“Oh, he’s in love with you. That’s why it upset him that he hurt you.”
“He’s not in love with me. We’ve only gone out a few times.”
“So?”
“So people don’t fall in love that fast.”
“Not always. But it absolutely can happen.” He looked surprisingly wistful as he said, “I’m not sure about love at first sight. But I wholeheartedly believe in love at first date. It can be real right from the start.”
“Wow, you’re a total romantic.”
He grinned at me. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Oh, it’s not. I was just thinking that it must make your job kind of difficult.”
“Why? Because, as a romantic, I must forever be falling in love with my clients? Believe me, that’s not a problem.”
“How do you date in your line of work?”
“I don’t.”
“At all?”
“Why would I? I get more than enough sex on the job. And I’m not looking for a relationship, so what would be the point of dating?”
As I was mulling that over, my phone rang in my pocket. When I fished it out, I didn’t recognize the number on the screen. “Hello?”
