Page 64 of David's Proposal

‘Never assume anything, stupid girl. Never assume anything,’the voice chants in my head, and for once, I fully agree with her.

So, how does he envision this…?

Him paying for my company?An à la carte sex menu? What exactly does he have in mind?

Kinks and stuff? Toys?

Stuff I’d normally be reluctant to but perhaps say yes to if the money was right and managed to remove my guilt?

He jabs at my boundaries––this man––and wants them broken down, and then what?

He and I need to talk about this‘I’m seeing other people’thing. And if I need to, I’ll put my conditions in writing, and he needs to sign off on them for this to work for both of us.

For now, there’s not much I can do other than vanish into the night, my body still warm and needy. Still wanting his touch, my hunger barely quenched.

I look at the valet intently, and the closer I get to him, the more his eyes come to life.

He straightens and looks directly at me.

A tailored waistcoat, a starched white shirt, and black pants and shoes set off his muscular frame. He might not work out but surely likes sports or outdoor activities.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks, a bit stiff, and I can’t miss the fact that he checks the lobby as if trying to get a clue about what’s going on.

I use the opportunity to check the lobby myself, and a pang of jealousy hits me like a lightning bolt.

David and that woman, let’s call her Pam––I don’t know her real name––talk to each other not far from the reception desk.

I may not be an expert in body language, but I can spot David’s tension from afar.

She, on the other hand, seems detached.

I peel my eyes away from them as the man in front of me still awaits an answer.

“I need a cab,” I say.

“Oh, sure,” he says. “A friend of mine will take you home.”

He quickly realizes he’s presumptuous.

“Oh, sorry. I should’ve asked you first.”

I smile.

“Don’t be sorry. Yes. Iamgoing home,” I say mellowly, and the shift in my tone makes him pay attention to me.

His eyes dip to my mouth, longing to slide farther down.

“How was your evening?” he asks in a different tone while showing me to one of the cabs waiting at the curb.

“It was all right. As expected.”

My cryptic answer says more than a three-page essay.

He can’t suppress a knowing smile, and I get all warm from his reaction.

“Well, if you happen to come back and you need a car or anything else…” he adds, pausing for a moment, “just ask for me. My name is Vale. Valentin.”

“Oh, good to know,” I say, smiling.

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