Page 17 of Chase

“I’ve got a long way to go before I become a qualified nurse,” I tell him, pushing myself up to sit. He places the tray onto my lap, full of freshly made scrambled eggs and toast waiting to be eaten alongside a steaming latte. “It’s merely orientation anyway.”

“It’s day one of your new career. This is an important milestone. Eat.” He sits down on the edge of the bed, watching me intently as I lift the first forkful of eggs to my mouth. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrified. It’s one hell of a career change.”

“You’ll be amazing. And I can’t wait to see you in your new uniform.” He reaches forward and runs deft fingers from my earlobe to the base of my throat. “I’m glad you decided to stop dancing,” he admits.

“Why?” I ask, unsure what he’s going to say.

“Because the only man I want you to dance for is me.” His admission surprises me. He’s never given me any indication my work at Guilty Pleasures made him uncomfortable. I place my fork back onto the plate, then turn in his direction to give him my full attention. He looks down at his hands, twisting his fingers together, clearly uncomfortable.

“Were you jealous, Mr. Chase?” I tease gently, all the while feeling guilty. Connor is unaware that Russell follows me. He also doesn’t know that he watched me dance at the club. And I am one hundred percent confident he would have a coronary if he knew his brother had watched us have sex.

Russell may have stopped speaking to me, but his presence never leaves. He’s my silent shadow, always watching, waiting, and clearing any threat from my path. Occasionally, a message from an unknown number will pop onto my screen. It can vary from a warning about my safety to complimenting what I wear. But I know it’s him—he’s the only man ever to call me Trouble.

My relationship with Connor, if you can call it that, has progressed so naturally, it’s kind of unnerving. In the past, men have made demands of me, but Connor doesn’t. We discuss our schedules and plan time together which suits us both. He adds a relaxed calm to my life I didn’t know I needed.

His apartment has grown on me, too. At first, I found the lavish decoration and expensive content mildly disconcerting. The thought of smashing a drinking glass which cost three figures to replace was eye-watering. However, we’ve broken more than a few during dinner when he decides he can’t wait any longer to have me, and Connor doesn’t seem to care how much damage is caused as long as I’m willing to be his.

What I’ve discovered about him is that, although he’s quiet, control is something Connor doesn’t like to give up. He has a subtle but domineering quality that’s hard to say no to, and in all honesty, I wouldn’t want to. My willingness to give my body to him has surprised me more than anything as our relationship has developed. For once in my life, I want someone else to be in charge while I enjoy the ride.

Connor stands, then strides over to the huge walk-in wardrobe set to the right-hand side. He disappears from view, and I focus on eating my breakfast. The layout inside his closet is insane, suit after suit and shirt after shirt hanging precisely in their designated position. It’s the exact opposite of my clothing, which lays discarded on my bedroom floor or over the ironing board waiting to be smoothed out.

On my first overnight, I’d woken around three and stumbled out of bed naked in search of his ensuite. A wrong turn had landed me in the center of his dressing area. After flicking on the light, I’d stood with my jaw hanging open as I surveyed the insane wealth surrounding me. Beyond the suits and shirts, there were designer shoes, watches, and cufflinks. It was more of a store than a personal dressing area.

Connor appeared after waking and finding me gone. He had watched from the doorway, his expression nervous. When our eyes met, I tried to smile, but I believe it must have been more of a frown as sadness flitted over his features.

“Everything okay?” he’d asked.

“Sure,” I murmured, embarrassed at being caught snooping. “I was just trying to get to the bathroom.”

“Next door along.” He sighed softly. “Come back to bed, please. I miss you.”

“Your life is so different from mine. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to have all this,” I’d said as he went to turn away. He paused, then twisted back to face me. I gestured at the racks of clothing and items laid out on shelves.

“They’re only clothes, Sam. Inanimate objects with little value beyond a price tag.”

“It’s not only the clothes…” I’d trailed off, nervous to show any insecurity. He stepped into the closet, taking my hand and encouraging me to sit on the small velvet bench in the center. He lowered beside me, then wrapped a strong arm around my shoulders, pulling me to him.

“What else is bothering you?”

“I’m not the kind of girl you normally date,” I said simply.

“I don’t normally date, but I’m pleased that you’ve accepted we are.” He smiled, then pressed a small kiss on my forehead. “I was beginning to think you were just using me for your selfish pleasure.”

“You don’t date,” I scoffed, but I laughed at his comment. The way he fucks me, I’d be forgiven for thinking I’m the one being used. But hell, I enjoy it. “I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true,” he shot back, his eyes narrowing with irritation. “It’s been a few years since I actively dated. The women I’ve met in the past were incompatible with me, and I gave up trying.”

“And you think we are compatible?” He frowned again, clearly confused by my question. “A girl from the streets and a top-notch lawyer.”

“You’re not from the streets. A little white cottage next to the sea with hard-working parents does not constitute that. Stop talking shit about yourself.” He wrapped me a fraction tighter in his arm. “And just because you’ve had to work in less savory industries doesn’t reflect who you are. Sometimes we have to do things to survive.”

“Less savory.” I giggled. “I think you mean sex work.”

“And it’s in the past, and this is your future. What happened back then doesn’t define who you are now, but it helped you become the most incredible woman today.” He leaned in a little closer, his warm breath tickled my lips. I’d blinked at him, stunned by his compliment. “If you haven’t noticed, I think you’re fucking awesome.”

Connor reappearing fully dressed interrupts my recollection. He walks back over to the bed and sits down once more. In his crisp white shirt and dark trousers, he looks every inch the lawyer as he carries his suit jacket over one arm. The silver ribbon on a small black box in his hand glints in the morning light.

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