Page 12 of Toy Shop

Nola’s rapt attention follows me throughout, abstaining from speaking and undoubtedly curious.

I’m curious as well. About her.

Which leads me to make the fatal mistake of looking deep into her eyes post-orgasm.

Over the phone, I received the sassy Nola. When she pranced inside, I had the pleasure of meeting the bold and feminine side of her. On this chair, Nola showed me her wild and vulnerable and trusting characteristics.

Now, when she looks at me with those doe eyes, I’m seeing gratitude.

A touch of longing, too. For me.

Not for Alistair Cromwell the billionaire, not Ali the brother who doesn’t keep in touch with his sister the way he should, not Boss or Sir or any other name the world attaches to me.

She only has eyes for me.

The refreshing and easing notion walks hand in hand with numbing fear. My throat constricts, the muscles around my shoulders tighten.

It can’t be me. She has no use for me, nor is she aware of the abundance of reasons she shouldn’t. She’s not required to. It’s a one-time thing.

The one obligation I have for Nola is to have her walk out of here content, educated, sated. That’s it. Keeping her well-being in the forefront of my head, I rise to my full height, offering her my hand.

“How did I do?” Her brilliant smile infiltrates the darkness, her voice sweeter than any music playing in the background.

Let her go.

“The question is, how did I do? How do you feel?”

“I’m…” She taps her nose, another adorable gesture. “Happy?”

“Happy is what I aimed for.” I bow down, kissing the back of her palm, yielding to the unwanted separation. “You’re welcome to stay for however long you’d like. The private area is yours. I have to head out to business.”

“Okay, sure. Cool.” Her head bobs in agreement. The disappointment lurks behind those soulful eyes, a pang of guilt slices through my heart.

You don’t want me in your life, I think, concealing it much like Nola does her letdown.

Reluctantly, I free her hand. “Enjoy the rest of the evening.” And with that, I depart the bar to the driver waiting for me outside.

CHAPTER FIVE

Nola

Rhodes, my partner in crime for this Tuesday night shift at Toy Shop, receives a generous view of my back. I’ve just wrapped up telling him Alistair’s story, one I don’t wish to elaborate on, even though he pretty-please asked.

I’ve been reluctant about telling him anything to begin with, but he kind of left me no choice. The past week since Alistair’s class, my work buddy and best friend saw me in either a state of daydreaming or moping.

Seven days later, Rhodes’s self-restraint has peaked. He stole my phone until I broke down and related the story to him. Follow-up questions, however, weren’t a part of our deal.

In order to make my lack of interest in elaborating abundantly clear, I busy myself by reorganizing the cock rings shelf. I’ve done it twice this week in my attempts to forget Alistair, and here I am, avoiding something. Again.

Something that’s boring holes in my back the way he’s glaring at me. “Rhodes, you’re staring. I feel it.”

“Of course my eyes are on you.” He sighs, exasperated at how I’m missing the obvious. “You cut your story in dead the middle. What happened after the night with sexy Mr. Chadwick?”

It goes without saying that I kept Alistair’s identity a secret. While the rest of him is an enigma, one aspect of his personality can’t be hidden—the man prioritizes his privacy. Anyone who goes to such great lengths to manipulate the credit company to issue him a card under a false identity is a man who cares to remain in the shadows. At least about his sex life.

And that’s exactly where I leave him.

“Rhodes.” I spin to face him. Warmth seeps into the green, curious eyes I’m met with. “There’s nothing else. He wished me good night and left. End of story.”

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