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Chapter 11
DARREN
Past
“You don’t have to drive me back. I can take BART, you know,” Bridget says the following morning as she sits at my dining table, wrapped in my bathrobe.
“You’d rather take public transportation?” I ask as I set down two cups of coffee.
“No, but I figured you have stuff to do.”
“I don’t have anything on my schedule except a lunch meeting.”
After getting the club established, and with Cheryl managing the day-to-day, there’s not much I have to do. I think about Lee Hao Young’s offer for me to take over the US counterfeiting division for the Jing San. It would definitely be challenging. Stimulating. Something that would make my father proud.
“Either way, I’m a big girl,” Bridget says. “I can find my way back to Berkeley.”
If it was just about sex with Bridget, I’d let her take public transportation. Or I’d have one of my employees give her a lift. But I want to drive her back. I want to prolong our time together. Stuff like that, and the fact that we made breakfast together this morning, feels like things one does in a relationship.
In Phuket, my mother warned me about falling in love. I think she likes Bridget, she just doesn’t think Bridget is right for me. I agree with my mom. Bridget’s too opinionated, too political, too goody-goody for me.
But her pussy’s sweet. And she was fucking amazing last night.
“What are you doing tonight?” I ask her.
“Catch-up on what I missed while in Thailand,” she replies as she butters her toast.
“What about tomorrow?”
“Because I got Shawn to take my shift while I was gone, I told him I’d take his tomorrow.”
“So you’ll come over after that.”
“I can…”
I raise my brows.
She narrows her eyes. “You make these imperial assumptions about what I’ll do all the time.”
I casually tear my croissant in half. “They’re not assumptions. They’re commands.”
She rolls her eyes. “Even worse!”
“It makes life easier if you just do what I say. Besides, I don’t tell you to do anything you don’t actually want to do.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not true.”
She looks cute when she’s rattled.
“Maybe not in the moment,” I acknowledge. “But you put up with it for the reward.”
“What reward?” she asks, though she knows the answer.
“Me.”
She tosses her bread crust at me.
“That’s going to earn you a good punishment,” I tell her, picking the crust off my lap.
