Virgin for Sale

Chapter 16

He’s not had it cut, and it makes me want to run my fingers through the thick locks. This is bad news. Fantasizing about the boss is a huge no-no.

Sitting back, I wait to see what he wants. His office is huge. His desk is in front of a large window that spills light into the room. Some of the blinds are partially down, but for the most part, the view of the city is stunning.

On the left-hand side of his office is a sofa with a large coffee table. It looks comfortable, cozy. He clearly spends a lot of time here.

On the right-hand side, the wall is covered with books. I can’t make out any of the titles, but that’s okay.

Clasping my hands together, I return my attention to him.

He’s been watching me.

“You have a nice office,” I say. What else am I supposed to say? This is so confusing. I wish Malcolm had warned me about this. He’d assured all of us that we wouldn’t have to meet the men who paid for us.

One night.

No consequences.

Clearly, he hadn’t thought about what would happen when one of us went for a job, and why should he? My service to him, and his to me, was over.

Tucking some hair behind my ears, I wait for instructions.

“I don’t like that you cut your hair.”

I cut it so I wouldn’t be reminded of all the times he’d gripped my hair as he rode my body. Instead of saying that, I wait patiently for whatever else he’s going to say.

“You were in the process of gaining your business degree?”

“Yes.”

“Would you go back to college if you could?”

I think about Kerry and know it’s not an option for me.

“It’s not something I’m looking to continue. I need to work, and not everyone needs a degree to make a career.”

“You have no plans to start a family?”

“None.”

“Any boyfriend waiting for you at home?”

Is it relevant to know this? It seems a little personal to me.

Shaking my head, I look down at my clenched hands. This is all so embarrassing.

“No?”

“No.”

“Are you dating?” he asks.

“Why is this relevant?”

“It’s not.”

“Then why ask it?”

“Because I want to know, seeing as you walked out on me.”

Staring at him, what do I say? “Our time was up.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You were asleep.”

“So, you sneaked out of bed so you didn’t have to face me in the morning. Were you worried that I’d want to know your name?”

“It wasn’t part of the agreement,” I say. “None of it was. One night, and in the morning we could go our separate ways. That’s what I did. Why do you keep bringing this up?”

He stares at me for the longest time.

I feel torn open.

The past year has felt more like a nightmare than I want to realize. Everything had changed, and all that remains is a state of fear.

I’ve been afraid for so long. Even that night I gave myself to him, I was scared, but the moment he touched me, everything became so very clear. Since we parted, life has been going on. One day into another, waiting for something to happen.

Yesterday in the elevator, it was like I finally woke up.

“I need you to make some notes for me on a couple of phone calls I’m about to make. Be clear, as that will decide what you do next.”

For the next hour, I listen to him as he talks business. I watch as he paces the office holding a tennis ball, which he throws up in the air and catches with precision. He doesn’t miss any catches. All the time, I make notes. When he nods in my direction, I make sure to write it down so that nothing is wrong.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the conversation ceases. My next orders are to return the files back to Emily, to get him some coffee, and to hurry up.

Each of his demands always includes for me to hurry up. To not take my time. To keep moving.

The day is long and hard. By the time it nears five o’clock, I’m exhausted. I’ll need to leave soon to be ready to collect Kerry. I have to use public transportation, and it’s never reliable. Besides that, I’m hoping for any excuse to leave.

My sister, however, has a meeting with the counselor. Her session will run until eight. The doctor she spoke to was happy to accommodate her need for privacy. She doesn’t like going places during the day.

By seven o’clock, I have to leave. This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

No one else is on the floor, but Chase is still working.

Nerves flood me as I walked up to the door. I knocked lightly so as not to disturb him even though I want his attention.

He’s pulled the blinds closed, and his office is now in darkness apart from a singular lamp on his desk.