The server returned to clear our plates and gave us each
a warm cup of butter, heated with a tea light candle. Another server, a petite
female, appeared carrying our lobster tails and placed them in front of us with
a flourish before asking if we’d like more wine.
“Please,” Dallon responded with a wink.
I frowned as I picked up my cutlery, digging into my meal.
Again, Dallon was correct; it was amazing. Everything about the restaurant was
amazing, from the view of the water to the flickering candles on white
tablecloths.
“So what made you interested in that… lifestyle?” I
asked carefully.
He smiled before placing a small piece of lobster into
his mouth. “Back on the subject, I see.”
I took a gulp of my wine. “I know what you want—I just
want to know
why
it’s what you want.”
Dallon cut a piece of broccoli in half, his arms against
his sides in a sophisticated display of table manners.
“I don’t think there is any reason for it, Amy. If there
was, then we could naturally assume there is a cure, like therapy. I’m not
angry or hateful of women, far from it—I just like the feeling that someone
might need me.”
Worded like that, it didn’t sound all that bad. “Your
need for control might have come from somewhere,” I pointed out, stopping
myself from going one step further and citing my Introduction to Psychology
class.
“You are a tenacious one, Miss Clair, and I can see how
you might have once considered law,” he smiled, but it was his sad smile. “If
you are correct and there is some underlying reason, for my need for control,
perhaps it is as simple as the fact that my mother left my father and me.”
He took a sip of his wine and glanced away for a moment,
as if deciding whether or not to continue.
“She didn’t just leave us once. The first time was a few
months after I was born. She’d never wanted a child and I was holding her back
from doing the things she wanted to do, like travel. I can’t even remember all
the places my father said she went—mostly Europe. He was left with a baby and a
job. She’d come back, claiming to miss
him
, but in the end she’d always
leave again.” He laughed bitterly. “When I was young, I wondered if it was me
that made her leave. She came back for him and left because of me.”
My throat constricted at this words and I reached out to
put a hand on his arm. “It wasn’t you, it was her. She was…”
“Selfish? Undoubtedly. I saw my friends’ families and
they weren’t perfect either. Many were divorced. But those few that were still
intact really stuck with me. I was jealous of every boy whose mother dropped
him off at school and kissed him goodbye. I became a bully, picking on those
kids and calling them a Momma’s Boy or other shit boys say. I was a complete
ass and I do regret that. Looking back, I know it had nothing to do with me,
but at the time I wondered what it was about me—was I defective?”
“No!” I exclaimed loudly and then repeated again quietly.
“No. You were a kid.”
He moved his arm, a gesture that he did not want my
pity, and then shrugged. “My father was absent, so I basically raised myself
and learned how to be independent at an early age. I made it my aim to make
something of myself so that I would never have to feel that way again.”
I nodded. “So you think you might control women so that
they don’t leave you?”
Dallon laughed. “I’ve never wanted a woman to stay
before, Amy, so I have no idea. I just thought I’d give you something to work
with, seeing as you’re so intent on figuring me out.” He leaned forward on the
table, clasping his hands. “What about you? Do you have any dark secrets from
your past?”
I glanced away. “I think we’ve all felt different than
other people at some point in our lives. I had a very good upbringing: loving
parents and enough money that we were comfortable.” I bit my lip before
continuing. “I think my biggest complaint about my parents would be that they
were… controlling.”
Dallon laughed loudly. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?
I’m controlling, and you like to resist being controlled. What fun we’ll have.”
He took a sip of his drink, his eyes twinkling above the
rim.
After a long lunch, I
turned down Dallon’s suggestion that we go to The Met or take a stroll in
Central Park. Our conversation and earlier workout had taken a lot out of me. I
needed time alone to clear my mind after the whirlwind week we’d had, and I
didn’t think clearly around Dallon King.
He took my hand as we
exited the restaurant and walked to the car. It was the first time we’d held
hands as a couple and the contact caused the hairs on my arms to stand on end,
the pull between us so strong that I knew he must feel it too. No matter how
much time I had alone to think, or how afraid of Dallon I tried to make myself,
I was always going to be affected by him like I’d never been affected by anyone
else. I was in deep and I knew it.
“I’d really like to go
home and take a long bath,” I confessed as he opened the passenger door for me
to climb in.
“I wouldn’t be opposed
to that,” he said, grinning wickedly.
I shifted
uncomfortably. “I was hoping to read a book.”
Disappointment flashed
across his features. “Very well.” He closed the door and I smoothed my skirt
nervously as he made his way to the driver’s side.
As soon as he closed
the door behind him, the car phone rang, the name Brendan appearing on the
screen. I assumed it must be a work call until I heard Brendan speak.
“Hey buddy,” Dallon
said. “Are we still shooting hoops tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” came the
reply, in a voice that was trying to appear nonchalant but could barely contain
its excitement. The voice of a teenaged boy.
“Okay, I’ll meet you
at the park at 6. Bring it.”
Brendan laughed.
“Yeah, man. See ya.”
Dallon pressed the button
on the wheel again and the call ended. He continued to drive, flipping through
Sirius stations so quickly, I didn’t know how he could tell what had been
playing.
“Who was that?” I
asked eventually. Did Dallon have a younger brother or a sibling with kids? I’d
always assumed he was an only child like me.
“That was Brendan.”
I rolled my eyes. “I
got that much. Who is Brendan?”
He frowned at my tone.
“I’m like a big brother to him, but it’s not through an organization or
anything.”
I waited for him to expand,
but he didn’t. I was about to ask how they’d met when my own phone began to
vibrate in my purse. I pulled it out, noting that it was a number I didn’t
recognize.
“Amy Clair speaking.”
“Hi Amy,” a friendly
female voice greeted me. “My name is Becky Platt. I’m calling from J. Houston
Oilfield Services in regards to the Administrative Assistant position you
applied for.”
“Oh, yes, how are
you?” I pointed at my phone and grinned at Dallon, who gave me a thumbs-up.
Becky laughed kindly.
“Great, thanks. We were wondering if you would be available to come in tomorrow
for an interview.”
“Definitely!”
“Would 2 p.m. work for
you?
“Yes, that works,” I
said, trying to contain my excitement.
“Perfect. I’ll email
you with more information, but you will be meeting with myself and Ren Helding,
Chief Operating Officer. In the email I will also provide the address.”
“Thanks, and see you
tomorrow!” I hung up and turned to Dallon, now grinning like an idiot. “I got
an interview!”
When we got home,
Dallon insisted that I take a bath in his bathroom. “I have a Jacuzzi tub. I’ll
run it for you while you call your mom.”
I shook my head. “No
way. She’ll get too excited. Better to wait until I have a job in hand.”
He laughed. “All
right, well grab your book then.”
He disappeared into
the bathroom and I heard water running. I quickly texted Sam about my interview
and then practically skipped to my room, changed into my robe and grabbed my
book, and then skipped back into Dallon’s bathroom.
The tub was already
half-full with large, vanilla scented bubbles. He was in the midst of lighting
a large candle at the side of the tub and glanced up, the light dancing across
his features. The sight took my breath away for a moment, and I paused in the
doorjamb uncertainly.
Dallon put the match
to his lips and blew.
“Thanks,” I said,
gesturing at the bath.
He smiled and
sauntered toward me slowly. With deft fingers, he undid my robe, letting it
fall to the floor. I instinctively moved to cover myself, but his eyes
hardened. He gently took a hold of my chin and tilted my face to look up at
his.
“I love your body.
Don’t hide from me.”
I kept my eyes locked
on his, grateful that he wasn’t looking down.
After a moment, he
sighed resignedly. “You want to get into the bath, don’t you?”
I nodded and he
released me. Gratefully, I sunk into the bubbles, the warmth enveloping me.
Dallon perched on the side of the tub.
“It amazes me you
thought you could be a model with such insecurity about your body.”
“I know.” I shook my
head, smiling. “I just really needed a job, and I thought I could overcome it.”
“You still can,” he
said, dipping a washcloth into the water before rubbing it over my back in
slow, relaxing circles. “I’ll help you.”
I laughed. “Of course
you will.”
He grinned back at me,
moving the washcloth over my shoulders and onto my chest. I leaned back in the
tub and tried to look comfortable with it. My fingers were knotted on my
stomach and I released them, letting them float to the sides of my body.
Dallon frowned and
wrung out the washcloth, hung it on the bath faucet. He crossed his arms and
cocked his head to the side, pausing as if trying to decide how to proceed.
“Seeing as today has
been all about getting to know each other, why don’t we talk about you for a
bit. Growing up you must have had tons of young men telling you you’re
beautiful.”
I sat up and drew my
legs to my chest. “Not really, actually. I was always kind of gawky and nerdy.
I had braces and glasses most of my life and was super skinny. It wasn’t until
University that guys actually asked me out.”
“And by then you
already believed you weren’t.”
I shrugged, trying to
catch a bubble that floated past. “I guess so.”
“I think there’s more
to it.”
I lifted my head. Now
who was the one being tenacious?
“When I was in
University, I started drinking beer and eating bad food, partially because I
was living in residence and that’s what we all did, and partially because I
actually wanted to have breasts. It backfired, though—my boyfriend commented on
my weight gain. I guess I’ve never felt like my body was good enough.”
“This boyfriend…”
“Michael.”
“Michael. How long did
you date for?”
I continued to play
with the bubbles as I responded. “Too long. I met him in first year and just
recently broke it off with him. I used to think he loved me, but now I don’t
think he even cared about me.” I took a deep breath. “I walked in on him
cheating on me.”
Dallon exhaled through
his teeth. “Asshole.”
I smiled. “He was. I’m
glad I’m not with him anymore. He was still texting me up until I got my new
phone.”
“Do you miss him?”
It was asked softly
with a touch of fear behind it. I looked at Dallon and found his face
impassive, but his eyes were wary. This was the first time I’d seen Dallon look
afraid, and it was because he was afraid of losing me.
“I want the honest
answer,” he pressed.
I closed my eyes
briefly before responding. “Michael was… charming. Everyone that met him liked
him. It was hard not to have fun around him, and he made me feel like I was the
most important person in his life. So I guess I miss that.” Before Dallon could
react, I added, “But it was all fake. After I walked in on him, he insisted I
meet him for coffee and wanted to stay together. When I said no, he got angry
and admitted that he had been cheating for months. I guess you just never
really know people.”
At this Dallon stood
and ran a hand through his hair. “I would never cheat on you.”
My eyes widened. I
didn’t know how to respond to that. I watched, silent, as he paced the
bathroom, his hands balled into fists. He stopped abruptly and stared at me
hard.
“I would never lead
you on like that or treat you like you were just for sex.”
Like Sam, Dallon had a
knack for hitting the nail on the head. I wrapped my arms around myself as
memories of the last time Michael and I had slept together rushed forth. It had
only been a few hours before I found him with another woman. I’d returned to
his place to grab my sweater.