Page 22 of The Queen's Denial

“Do you really want to compare yourself to a hooker?” I ask, with a heaping dose of pretentiousness.

Chi scoffs. “You know, in Japanese culture, a geisha is one of the most celebrated female figures. They are ‘Women of Art,’ beautiful and graceful, which many girls there aspire to be. So, let’s not disparage women who get paid for sex, okay?”

I’m relatively certain that Chi is the only person who could ever make me feel like an asshole for such a benign remark. “I have no problem with hookers, Chi. I just know you’re not one, and that you don’t get paid to have your fun,” I say, trying to save myself from putting my foot in my mouth.

Chi looks at me skeptically but drops the subject and breathes out a long exhale. “My God. I don’t know if I can move after that.”

“Seriously, you were a fucking animal. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Her smile falters a bit, and now that’s twice in just the span of a few minutes that I’ve seen Chi’s carefully practiced façade tremble before my very eyes. “Nothing. I just like it that way sometimes.”

Now it’s my turn to look at her skeptically. I have a hunch, and while normally I would just leave it without saying anything, Chi is my charge and my responsibility right now. It feels like I need to make sure she’s doing okay.

“What’s wrong, Chee-chee?” I ask, rubbing a thumb over her cheek.

She blinks hard, almost wincing, before withdrawing a bit and biting her lip. “Like I said, there’s nothing wrong. I’m totally fine. I like rough sex, obviously. And I like to feel a little in control sometimes, even though that’s clearly not your thing.” She tries to roll her eyes at me, but I know she loves what I do with her. She’s just trying to be standoffish for some reason.

I really don’t know why I care. My MO is to not give a shit about anything — to let life roll off my shoulders. But it bugs the hell out of me that she won’t tell me what’s on her mind right now. I want to extract the words with a tweezer; yank it out of her when she’s not expecting it.

“You really don’t want to talk to me about it, huh?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she says, almost defensively, and backs up out of my embrace completely. “Actually, that’s not true. There is something I want to talk to you about. But unfortunately for you, it’s more of a bone I need to pick with you than anything else.”

I know she’s trying to change the subject, and I know where this is heading, so I give a long sigh and face it head on. “Okay. Have at it. Let’s get it over with.”

“I need to make a post, and it needs to be more than me lounging by the pool or in the library. I need to go out. I’m done being locked up in this house.”

I let out a breath and close my eyes to think of what to say back to this request. Well, it’s not really a request, but usually Chi just issues clear commands, so it feels like one.

“Chi, it’s not a good idea. You’re still healing.” She knows I’m full of shit at this point, I’m certain. It’s been two weeks since her concussion and she hasn’t had a headache in over a week. And with the frequency and vigor of our fucking, the veneer of trying to keep her from injuring herself further is so thin it’s almost non-existent.

“Andy, I’m not asking permission anymore. I’m just telling you. I’m going out. You can either come with or stay here. You should come, though. You say my dad has a stick up his ass, but I think yours would need to be surgically removed before you’d let yourself have fun at Hive.”

Hive is the club that Mara’s uncle owns, and I’m not interested in going for a multitude of reasons. Firstly, I don’t trust any of Mara’s shady-ass family members, but secondly, going to a dark, sketchy club is the easiest way to get yourself hurt or kidnapped. Unfortunately, I don’t think Chi is the type of girl to respond well to rational arguments about her safety, at least not from me. Her father and his old friend, Daiki, pretty much let her do what she wants, as long as she has a group of guards around her at all times.

I sigh and shake my head. “The doctor said a month—”

“The doctor said up to a month. He said I would be feeling symptoms for up to a month. So, I’m going out.”

It seems I’m going to really need to put my foot down. “Chi, I’m head of security here while Cas heals. I can tell the guys not to let you—”

Chi is pissed. “The guards will absolutely listen to me over you, and you know it. How dare you—”

I smother her mouth with my hand, which just pisses her off even more, but I speak over her anyway while she struggles, her eyes spitting fire and her muffled words vibrating down my arm.

“I can tell the guys not to let you out of their sight, but only if you go some place calmer.” And safer, I think, but don’t say it.

She settles down a little at my dramatic turn around. She was right though, to think I was going to forbid her from going out under threat of being picked up and carried back here. I was going to tell her that the guards won’t let her leave if I tell them not to. I do think they would listen to me over her — at least, my guys would — but if her father found out, it could be quite the clusterfuck. In any case, my quick thinking seems to have worked.

She speaks as soon as I take my hand away from her mouth. “I’m going to the club. They can go with me, of course. But no one is stopping me from doing my thing.”

I know what ‘her thing’ is. She’s the life of the fucking party, when she decides to go to one. Her presence is coveted, because she goes through bouts of wanting nothing to do with social gatherings and holes herself up in historic mansions and famous houses. She has a reputation for being picky, often only going to parties that are obligatory or clubs that she deigns worthy of her time.

Hive is the most exclusive club for 20-somethings in the downtown area. Their oldest clientele are just a couple years older than Chi, but I guess she’s using whatever time she gets to continue sewing her wild oats or something.

“How about this,” I say, trying out a rub to her shoulder in an attempt to mollify her. “How about we rent a mansion, and you can go crazy. Bring all of your toys and costumes.”

She gives me a murderous look, and I realize that the word “toys” probably wasn’t the right choice for this particular situation.

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