Page 22 of Temptation

I get more money from commissions.

Only when you actually sell cars.

I'm going to pretend this conversation never happened. It was a figment of my drugged-up brain. You're going to remember you only have your job because of me, show a little gratitude, give up on this love overcoming all bullshit, and remember our agreement. Good night, Viki.

You're an ass.

VIKI!!!

Good night

Asshole

“Trouble in paradise,” Tenn smirked. “I wonder what their agreement was?”

“Probably something like the affair doesn't mess with the home life.” Quinn shrugged. “Come on, let's get this all to Deedee.” When they finished it and sent it to the lawyer, ending up putting it all in a folder on Google Drive and just sharing it with her instead of sending her ten emails, Quinn leaned back and stretched. “What time are you done?”

“At five. You aren't working today?” Tenn tried to keep his eyes on her face as she stretched, her breasts rising and pushing out as she arched her back and failed miserably. She was killing him without even trying.

“I went in this morning, told my boss what was going on, and she gave me two weeks paid leave to handle everything. We're at the end of the Spring term, so we're not busy. Everyone is just hiding in the library studying. We mostly handle meltdowns in the quiet room this time of year.” She shook her head with a small smile.

“Right.” Tenn chuckled. “Yeah, I really don't miss the end-of-term exam anxiety.”

“Yeah, me either.” She grinned at him and then tilted her head, her smile and eyes softening as she studied his face. “You have a great smile.”

“Thanks.” Tenn blinked in surprise and felt his cheeks heat up. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had complimented him. He cleared his throat, unsure how to react. “I did clear my afternoon in case the lawyer shopping took a while; want to put together the proposal?”

“Yeah, let's get it done.” Quinn nodded, looking very amused at his reaction to her compliment. “Then I have to go shopping for ingredients and get back to the house to start dinner.”

“What are you cooking?” Tenn pulled a chair around so she was sitting next to him, facing his computer, pulled up a Word document, and began to type.

“Korean Beef Sloppy Joes with Honey Butter Fries.” She leaned forward, read what he was typing, and compared it to her notes on her phone.

“Sounds delicious.” He paused, wondering how much she’d be willing to share about her food issues. “Can I ask a question?” He moved his hands as Quinn took over typing to add something.

“Of course.” She finished what she wanted to add, and he jumped back in.

“Can you explain your relationship with food?”

She let out a soft sigh. “I'm obsessed with food. I love food. I love new recipes. I love to cook, feed people, and see their joy when they taste something that makes them feel something. But I hate my lack of control around it. I want to eat; I want it all to myself, but because I was always shamed for what I was eating or how much I was eating, I struggle sometimes. When I spiral, I feel disgusted with myself when I'm finished and like I need to purge it from my system. I hate throwing up, so I purge it by taking laxatives and exercising.”

“I'm sure I can feel the calories changing to fat and can see my body growing as I watch, and to cope, I exercise until I collapse and eat lettuce until I see the change in my mirror. And the whole time I'm doing that, I dream about eating an entire lemon blueberry cheesecake or a big, medium rare, sirloin steak covered in honey garlic barbecue sauce, with a baked potato loaded with sour cream, butter, chives, and cheese, and corn on the cob dripping with butter.” She grinned. “Guess what my last meal would be?”

“Sounds like a great last meal to me, Flacara.” Tenn smiled, but inside, he was planning the unsolved murder of her mother and father.

“Right?” Quinn laughed. “So yeah. It's a complicated relationship that's abusive on my part. I have to focus on the pleasure and joy I get while eating rather than the shame and disgust I feel after eating. I've surrounded myself with people who build me up and cut contact with those who brought me down.”

“Was that why you almost divorced Joel before?”

Quinn nodded. “When I met Joel, I was restricting myself, and I was pretty skinny.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “I was also blonde. Anyway.” She shook her head. “We dated, and I was, in my mind, balancing things pretty well. He got concerned when he could see my ribs, brought it to Quill's attention, and I ended up hospitalized for a while. At first, when I got out, he was very concerned, met with my doctors, learned my triggers, said he would help me however he could, and was an amazing support. We got married; I was still pretty small but recovering well. I thought everything was great.”

Then, three years ago, he told me I was letting myself go and getting fat, among other things, and I spiralled hard. One month, he told me he loved my curves; the next, I was fat and needed to control myself. He used all my triggers, didn't tell Quill I was spiralling, and even limited my time with him so he wouldn't notice. I ended up hospitalized again, and he later explained he thought he would be able to control it. He was concerned I was gaining too much and triggered me so I would lose weight, thinking that when I got back to the size he wanted me at, he would start praising me, and I would start eating again. It didn't work; he didn't want to admit to what he did, and I ended up in the hospital with a heart condition.”

“Quill nearly killed him. He was arrested for assault, but Joel wouldn't press charges. He begged for my forgiveness, said he handled it all wrong, and the thought that he was going to lose me made him suicidal. He went to counselling, met with my team again, did everything he could to prove he would be better, and he has been mostly better, at least until he met Viki.”

“If I was in your life then, I would have joined Quill in beating his ass.” Tenn was livid. “What a fucking prick!”

“That he is.” Quinn smiled. “Are we good with the proposal?”

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