Page 49 of Black Velvet

Instead of giving me a reply to my question, he opts for another sip of his drink. I keep myself from rolling my eyes at his dismissive and secretive behavior. If that's part of his game, fine. At least it keeps things interesting.

When he decides that enough time has passed for him to skip the question without deigning me with a reply, he leans back into the sofa away from me, catching my still-expectant gaze.

"Have you ever thought about quitting? About doing something else?" he asks, declaring my inquiry from before done and dealt with.

I reciprocate his look, lulled by his gorgeous features and the intensity of his gray eyes as he locks me into place. For a moment I ponder whether I should insist on an answer to my question before giving him one, but I'm helpless against his powerful stance. He owns me, almost literally, as he's still the paying customer while I'm being paid to entertain him. Despite the intimacy that's shared between us, I should always remember that.

"As a matter of fact, I did," I tell him. "I wanted to quit a few months ago. I made an appointment with Miss Barry, got all dressed up and professional even, and told her I wanted to quit."

"Then what happened?"

I sigh, disappointment at my own weakness crawling up my spine when I remember that day.

"She told me about The Velvet Rooms and how I could work here without having to sleep with clients anymore," I say. "The pay is good. So I stayed."

He nods with understanding. "That's why you were dressed as an angel on opening night."

"Right."

I bite my lower lip, somewhat fearful of where this conversation is headed. While my story may be true, it doesn't make me look very good. I come across weak and spineless, like someone who has no will of her own. Like my sporadic hiccups of determination are easily killed when someone dangles an easier opportunity in front of my nose.

Yes, that's what it feels like. I'm here because I'm weak, because I couldn't make the jump I needed to make. Despite all the grief that this work is giving me by now, I still consider it a comfort zone I'm not ready to leave.

"That madam has a way of convincing people to do what she wants them to do," Damon mumbles next to me, causing me to arch my eyebrows in surprise.

"Why do you say that?"

He casts me a crooked smile laced with a hint of mischief.

"It wasn't my idea to become an investor of The Velvet Rooms," he says. "I can't say I was hooked or even impressed when she first mentioned it to me. But she had something to offer that made me reconsider."

I cock my head to the side. "What?"

"You," he says matter-of-factly, sending a hot wave of excitement through my chest.

"Me?" I stutter. "But... we didn't even know each other."

"I told you, I saw you at the agency a few months ago," he says. "I had an appointment with Miss Barry because she wanted to tell me about a new opportunity at the agency—The Velvet Rooms, as it turned out."

He pauses, chuckling and shaking his head as he loses himself in the memories.

"She made me wait, and I was just about to storm into her office when the door opened and you walked out, looking like a fucking fairy in your dark blazer and that sinful skirt. Shit, you looked phenomenal."

He looks at me, lust and hunger coloring his expression as he narrows his eyes. "I wanted you so fucking badly. I wanted to fuck you right then and there, bend you over the madam's table and fuck you senseless. But you just walked right by me and barely looked at me."

My heart is racing and I know the light in here is not dim enough to hide the glow on my cheeks. A blazer, he says. I was wearing a blazer.

"It must have been the same day," I utter. "The same day I told Miss Barry that I wanted to quit."

He shrugs. "Maybe. Could very well be."

I nod, lowering my eyes. "Yes, it has to be."

Would it be right to call this fate? Would he be here if I hadn't shown up at the agency on that very day? Would I ever have met him?

"In any case, I asked about you and whether I could buy you," he continues. "And she told me that you no longer accepted new clients—but that there would be a chance for me to meet you here if I decided to become a part of this."

I look at him, my heart still pounding with excitement. He wanted to buy me. He has mentioned before that he saw me and that he wanted to see me again, but I dismissed it as an empty compliment, just a story he made up to catch my attention.

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