Page 33 of Forbidden Desires

I opened my mouth, only to close it again before I could say anything. I hadn’t considered that Eric might have felt the same way.

Dominque smirked. “I’m not going to tell you definitively what’s going through Eric’s mind right now, but if he hasn’t outright chosen to end your contract, I would simply suggest that you hold out and see what happens. I do know Eric well enough to say that he isn’t a man to punish the women who entertain him over his own emotions. But in this line of work emotions are a messy concept for men that they steadfastly avoid, which is why the arrangement works both ways because it’s transactional, without those expectations. Trust me. I’ve been through so many men at this point, and that remains the one and only constant between all of them.”

Unlike most of my conversations with Dominique, I did not end up leaving my lunch with her feeling any more confident or any less agitated. My irritation only seemed to escalate the longer it took Eric to contact me. Fine, maybe he was feeling all jumbled up inside, too, but did he really think it was so easy for me to spill my guts in turn and let him see the most vulnerable pieces of me?

I couldn’t help but feel used, and that was a feeling that was not easily placated by a little luncheon and a vague, “everything will be fine if you give it time”.

So, when Eric did finally send me a message by an impersonal email, I was not overcome with giddy excitement or even relief that I would continue to have work without worry. I was just more annoyed. But I was nothing if not a professional who honored their contract and obligations.

He wanted me to attend an investor’s ball for one of the galleries that he was a part of keeping afloat. Money donated by like-minded rich folk, smaller business owners who liked to invest in the local communities, and such. I almost didn’t care about it, but I knew that if I pettily blew him off so he’d feel the same sting I’d been living with the past month, it wouldn’t reflect badly on him. No, it would make me look like the spurned woman who wasn’t getting what she wanted.

Christ. This felt like amateur escort bullshit.

The small amount of petty that I was able to muster, however, was in the way I dressed. Eric preferred I wear a certain aesthetic to his venues, and I knew this. Allowing myself to be attractive wasn’t the issue; anything in the realm of risqué, however, was.

He’d been a jackass as far as I was concerned, so rather than any of the number of outfits he’d bought for me to suit the circles Eric ran with, I chose a knee-length red dress. It hugged my figure and with the way the neckline plunged, gave a good look at cleavage I knew Eric would frown upon. Whether or not I was playing with fire was a secondary concern of mine. I just wanted…fuck, I didn’t know. I wanted it to be known that I wasn’t happy with the way I’d been treated, and Eric would see that first hand, loud and clear, when he saw me.

And if Jeff’s reaction to seeing me when he picked me up from my apartment was anything to go by, then I was on theright track. His eyes were wide by the time I slipped into the backseat, and he cleared his throat when he realized that I noticed that he was staring.

“Miss Greene,” he said, nodding his head politely. “Good to see you again. Are you sure you’re…ready for me to take you to meet Mr. Maxim?”

I gave him the sweetest of smiles. “Of course, Jeff. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He seemed to be momentarily flustered by my rebuttal, then quickly recovered. “No reason, Miss. Just making sure, as usual,” he finally replied, then shut my door, got behind the wheel, and pulled away from the apartment.

Jeff had never before asked me if I was sure I was ready to meet Eric. The fact that he thought, or rather knew, my dress might displease Eric would have made me laugh if I cared enough. I was in a mood, and unfortunately for Eric, he was going to bear the brunt of that mood as I saw fit.

When we arrived at the venue, I knew that Eric would be waiting for me. If it was Jeff that picked me up, he always alerted Eric when we were on the way, so that he could escort me in. Usually, he seemed excited, in his own reserved way, to see me. I had to wonder if Jeff gave him the head’s up about my appearance before we arrived, however, because Eric was exactly curbside, and he looked stone-faced as Jeff pulled up beside him.

That unreadable expression remained as he opened the door for me and saw me. “Jasmine,” he said, almost through his teeth, like he had his mouth clenched on something tough.

I put on my best ‘fuck you’ smile, slipping my hand into his own outstretched one as he helped me out of the car. “Eric,” I said, my own voice candy coated and indifferent. “It’s good to see you again.”

His expression faltered just a little there at my tone, before his mouth settled back into a disapproving frown that delighted me. “What are you wearing?”

“Clothes,” I said, deadpan.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Yes, but whytheseclothes?”

Such an obtuse man, and the fact that he hadn’t yet realized the reason why I was being so defiant only upped my current rebellious behavior. I looked directly into his eyes, even knowing I was risking his ire before we walked in to the gallery. “Is there something wrong with the way I’m dressed, Eric?”

His eyes roamed over my frame, a mix of confusion and frustration passing over his handsome features as he looked back at me. “Was I unclear in what you were to wear tonight?”

I shook my head, and gave him a slight shrug of my shoulder. “Nope. You were perfectly clear.”

He had the fucking gall to look shocked. “So you dressed like this on purpose?”

My own anger finally crested and spilled over. “Dressed like what, Eric? Like an escort? Like a person you’re paying to come to these little events whenever your whims desire? Like a whore?”

The spiel came out of my mouth before I could stop it, but all the agitation, hurt, and disappointment that had plagued me for weeks spewed out in that little tirade, the vitriol of my feelings forcing themselves from within for Eric to feel, too.

Eric seemed taken aback, and additionally, more displeased than he had been before. He must have been banking on me being confused about his wardrobe request as opposed to be being outright defiant of his stupid rules, but that was going to be his problem, not mine. According to our contract, my one and only job was to stay by his side, make decent and intelligent conversation, and make him look good.

That, I could do, so I slipped my arm in his and looked at him expectantly. “Shall we, Mr. Maxim?”

He did not justify my question with a response.

Eric led us up the stairs and into the venue, which was styled after old Roman architecture with arches and pillars set into the building. It was not the gallery that these investors were putting their money and time into, but it was large enough to cater to them all and show off some of the pieces of sculpted works that would eventually call the gallery their home.

---