“Yes, please,” I answered, my legs shaking.
“Do you remember much of last night?” he asked while he
filled our glasses, mercifully facing away from me.
“I think so.”
He turned around and placed a glass in front of me. “And
again you didn’t run, Miss Clair. I’m impressed.”
I took a sip, my heart rate accelerating. In actuality,
I hadn’t remembered
that
part of the night until he’d asked me. Maybe
I’d wanted to block it out, or maybe I was hoping he had been as drunk as well
and had forgotten.
I watched as he scooped eggs onto two plates half
covered in fruit. He placed the bacon in front of me, picked up our plates and
came around the bar to sit beside me. I instantly began eating the fruit,
grateful to have something healthy inside of me after last night. I hadn’t had
that much to drink since I’d graduated.
“I assume you don’t work today, so we can continue our
discussion after we eat,” he said, forking a strawberry.
“I don’t work at the café, no.” I took a deep breath.
“But it’s my first day at Mix.”
Dallon stopped chewing. He swallowed, put his fork down
on his plate carefully and wiped his mouth before speaking. “I thought we
discussed how I feel about Mix.”
“You said that you don’t want me working there. There
was no discussion.”
He looked at me sharply. “Now that we’re dating, I
thought you’d respect my wishes.”
“We’re dating?”
I knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment I said
it. Dallon swiveled in his stool to face me. “I thought last night cemented
that. Or do you make a habit of fooling around without dating?”
I glared at him and put my fork down too. “No, I don’t.
I told you, I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Then what is it—are we dating or not?”
“I don’t know. Before you wanted me to be your employee
and now you want to date. Why the change of heart?”
He sighed. “I realized I had to change my expectations in
order to have you. It’s called compromise, Amy.”
“You said you don’t date.”
“I don’t.”
“But you want to date me.”
“You catch on quickly,” he said dryly.
I glared at him until his lip twitched and then punched
him lightly, smiling in spite of myself.
He took my hands in his, tugging gently so that I was
turned to face him, our legs entwined. “I don’t want to play any more games,
Amy.”
I nodded, biting my lip. I didn’t want to play any more
games either. They were exhausting.
“So are we going to try this or not? If you say yes, we
can discuss last night or just spend the day together, whichever you want. But
I will not want you to work at Mix. I’ve not had a girlfriend in ages and I do
not like to share.”
His thumbs stroked the back of my hands in gentle circles,
and my pulse quickened. He looked at me pointedly before continuing. “If you
say no, I’ll understand and won’t stand in your way, but I won’t ask again.”
My throat went dry.
He wouldn’t ask again
.
Suddenly, I realized how much I wanted Dallon in my life. But I didn’t have a
choice.
“I need that job,” I said softly. “I told Michelle I was
quitting for another job, and she said she was going to call someone else to
take my place.”
“I see.”
Panic swelled like a balloon in my chest, but I tried to
keep my voice steady. “It won’t be that bad, Dallon. It’s just a job.”
His jaw tightened. “Not to me. So what’s your answer?
Would you like to date me or not?”
Of course I do
, I wanted
to say without any hesitation, but he wasn’t hearing me. “I need a job to pay
my rent, and I no longer have my job at the café.”
He smiled wryly. “It’s a yes or no question, Miss Clair.
If you agree to try, you have to trust me that it will work out.”
“How?” I asked in a small voice, hoping against hope
that his solution wouldn’t be the modeling position in another form.
“Let me help you. I can cover you for a month—loan you
money—until you get on your feet.”
“I don’t know how long it will take.”
“Then move in here. Temporarily,” he added, putting his
hands up. “Save rent money.”
I sighed and shook my head, pulling my hands away. “I
already told you—I won’t work for you, Dallon.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
I looked back into his eyes and could tell he was being
honest; he really just wanted me around and to help me out. The knowledge sent
both a thrill and a chill through me.
“That’s crazy. We barely know each other.”
“You can even live in the guestroom for now, if you’re
not ready to share a bed,” he smirked.
“That’s very generous of you, but I don’t think so,” I
said, laughing it off.
“What’s the worse than can happen?”
He was smiling his charming smile, like he really didn’t
understand the enormity of what he was asking. I had to admit, part of me was
totally intrigued with the idea; the part that wanted to be reckless instead of
cautious Amy, that was in love with his home and undeniably intrigued by the
man in front of me. But it was a fairytale.
I looked down at my lap. “I could get used to living
here and nothing else could compare. Then when it falls apart, I’ll be the one
that suffers; I won’t have a home.”
“You make it sound like it’s inevitable,” he said with a
low growl.
I shrugged.
This seemed to anger him more. “You think I’d just keep
you to the curb without helping you find somewhere else to live? That’s
ridiculous, Amy. I care about you.”
“What you’re asking isn’t… normal,” I stammered.
He laughed harshly. “Did I ever claim to be normal, Amy?
No. I told you last night that I am very far from normal. I thought you’d
figured that out the day we met.”
I closed my eyes, the memory of last night’s
conversation at the front of my mind. “You said that you like to control women
in bed.”
A muscle in his cheek twitched. “Yes.”
“But this doesn’t have anything to do with that?”
He looked at me steadily. “Of course it does.”
I made a shocked noise. “And you don’t think there’s
something wrong with asking me to give up a serving job and move in instead?”
He shrugged, unashamed. “It’s what I want, and I always
get what I want.”
I sighed. Dallon King was the most frustrating and
arrogant person I’d ever met. “You’re basically asking me to be your mistress.”
He smirked. “I’m an old fashioned man, Miss Clair.”
“But see I’m not an old fashioned woman.”
“Too bad, because back in the day women often worked as
muses.” He sucked gently on my earlobe before whispering in my ear: “I’d love
you to be my muse.”
I pulled away again. “Back in the day women needed men
to support them. They didn’t have much of a choice, and they did a lot of
things they didn’t want to do.”
Dallon sat back and raised an eyebrow. “Is that what
you’re afraid of, being indebted to me? You think that if I let you live here
while you figure out what you’re meant to do, I’ll expect you to return the
gesture with sexual favors?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “I’m afraid of being dependent
on you.”
“See, and that’s exactly what I want of you, Miss
Clair,” he whispered, leaning forward again to press his forehead to mine. “I
want you to look to me for support and to respect me. I also want to spoil you;
it’s how I show I care.”
I frowned. “That sounds more like I’d be your child.”
Dallon pulled back, a look of disgust on his face.
“Would I want to
fuck
my child, Miss Clair?”
I flinched at the harshness of the word. “Is that what
you want? To fuck me?”
“I’ve wanted that since the day I met you. Right now
that’s especially what I want to do, and hard. You’re managing to press all my
angry buttons.”
I swallowed. Apparently Dallon was done sugar coating
everything. “By asking me to give up a job and move in, you don’t just want to
control me in bed.”
He waved his hand around. “Everything is all messed up
with you. The lines between real life and sex are blurred. I want it all.”
His confession shocked me. I entwined my fingers,
struggling to believe I was actually hearing this, that he could be so brazen.
Everything in my body was telling me to run, that Dallon was a loose cannon and
potentially dangerous, but I stayed put.
“Eat your breakfast,” he said, spinning in his seat to
face his plate again.
I felt like I’d just tumbled through the rabbit hole.
Dallon had admitted what he wanted, and even though a
large part of it freaked me out, I also respected that he wasn’t afraid to
voice it. His desires were against society; men that wanted to control women
were thought of as chauvinists or borderline rapists. Women that let themselves
be controlled—or wanted to be controlled—were anti-feminist or sluts. These were
the thoughts running through my mind as I finished the last bite of my
breakfast and Dallon disappeared, only to return with a box wrapped in silver
paper.
“I have a present for you,” he said, passing me the box.
I took it gingerly. “What is it?”
“That’s not how it works.”
Feeling nervous with his eyes on me, I unwrapped the
present. It was a brand new iPhone 5. I looked up at him with surprise. “You
bought me an iPhone?”
He smiled. “I went out and got it this morning. I also
added you to my plan so that you can check your emails,” he added with a wink.
I pulled it out of the box, admiring how sleek it was.
I’d never had an iPhone before, but I’d always wanted one. I’d always wanted a
white one, too.
“Do you like it?”
I looked up again to see his smiling face, and I
couldn’t bring myself to tell him that he couldn’t give it to me. “It was very
nice of you, but you didn’t have to do it.”
“I know. I wanted to. Remember what I said about wanting
to spoil you?”
I nodded, biting my lip. The pessimistic side of me was
worried he had only bought it to keep tabs on me, while the optimistic side
wanted to believe that he had just seen a chance to buy me a gift I needed and
had taken it. It was obvious from his reaction watching me open it, and the
enthusiastic way he told me about all the new features, that he was excited to
give it to me. Dallon King was one of those generous people that honestly
enjoyed buying presents for other people.
He stopped talking and looked at me with concern.
“You’re not going to accept it, are you?”
“No, no, what makes you think that?” I rushed to assure
him, even though it was exactly what I had been considering doing. “I just
don’t want you to keep spending a lot of money on me, okay?”
Dallon sighed and sat down beside me on the stool again.
“I told you, this is how I show I care. Not with words, but by actions. If you
take that away from me...” He shrugged. “I’m not good at expressing some things
in words. My family doesn’t talk about our feelings, and I never heard my
father say how he felt about my mother.”
I frowned. “He never said he loved her?”
“Not that I heard. Then again, she took off when I was
quite young.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” He paused. “What is it?”
“Well, it just seems like you want to talk about us a
lot. So I’m... surprised.”
He laughed. “I am too. Seems I’m changing a lot of my
rules for you”
I smiled and looked down at my brand new iPhone. I
turned it on and went through the setup process, and then Dallon connected it
to his WiFi. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed checking my emails. I had a
few from my mom growing more and more worried. In the last one, she said she
was going to call me on Sunday and that she hoped I was all right. There were
also two from Dallon, the first one a short “how are things going” email, and
the second inquiring about my new place and whether or not I’d like to grab
dinner.
“Just got your emails,” I said sheepishly.
He laughed and winked. “No more excuses.”
“What’s my number? I’d better send it to my mom before
she wigs out too.”
“Careful now.” Dallon gave me a warning look. “I have it
in my phone—I’ll text it to you.”
He pulled his iPhone out of his pocket and in a few
seconds, my phone buzzed with his text. Dallon leaned over and pushed the Add
Contact button, and I typed his first name in.
Suddenly his phone started ringing. He glanced at the
screen and sighed. “It’s work. I’m going to go take this in the study, you play
with your new toy,” he flashed me a grin before walking out of the living room
and down the hall.