Page 47 of Keeping The Virgin

I trace my finger down my vodka tumbler. “Okay. But anybody who reads a business article about you can get those answers. How about, you know, your hopes and dreams? Those are different from ambitions and plans.”

He stays silent.

I try again. “If Mr. Vasiliev were to engage me in conversation about those topics, I’d need to know what you’ve told him. A girlfriend would be up on those kinds of things, don’t you think?”

I’m balancing on a wire here. On one side is the Cage I’m dying to know more about—the one who seems so close to revealing more about himself to me sometimes. On the other is the Cage who might shut down immediately if I push too much.

He finally answers. “You want to know about my hopes and dreams? All right. I hope to always have enough money to buy my security. And I dream of never having to answer questions like these ever again.”

All right. That last part wasn’t the answer I was hoping for, but at least he gave me something.

“You’re happy with your status quo in life then?” I ask.

“Very.”

“Then…” Oh my god, I’m about to say something I’ll regret, but I can’t stop now. “If you were so happy with how you ran your dating life with all those temporary women, why did you decide to keep me around?”

Mistake. Big mistake. He freezes right before my eyes, black ice, impossible to get a grip on, as hard as stone.

“Well then,” he says, gesturing to someone near the exit. “That should do it for the night.”

Something tells me that my huge mistake during this rehearsal wasn’t in drinking too much booze or inspecting some cool salt- and peppershakers on a dinner table. I challenged Cage’s boundaries of intimacy again, just not in a physical way this time.

I obviously got to him.

Our limo driver comes over, and Cage stands and nods to him.

“Take her home,” he says.

What?

“You’re not coming with me?”

“I’m staying here for a while.” He sits back down and orders something else from the server.

I feel as if I’m drifting on a wind that’s blowing me away from him, and I barely hear the driver as he says, “Miss Lively?”

I numbly turn to him to see him sweeping his arm toward the door.

I don’t make a scene. I just go with him, my steps heavy. Cage could’ve had more drinks in his home if he wanted to, but I’ve obviously upset his balance and he doesn’t want to be around me.

Tonight I think I robbed him of that control he so sorely needs, and all he can do is get it back by distancing himself.

The ride to his place seems to take forever, and when I’m finally inside, I slink to my bedroom, shutting my door behind me. I really messed up tonight. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? Haven’t I learned to do that yet?

After I go into my walk-in closet to put my shoes on their rack, I try not to linger there, to think about how he got me off in here last night, how I thought that maybe we’d found a twisted yet deep connection…

I rush out of there, moving into the bathroom and turning on the light. I stand in front of the marble sink for a moment, then begin to take off my mask of makeup, one layer after the other. What’s left in the end is a woman, not a girl, I’m only starting to recognize—sadder and wiser, but she’s definitely changed from even a couple of days ago.

I finally see what Cage sees, and I want to cry.

But then I hear a slamming sound, like a door. I don’t move. About twenty frightened heartbeats later, I hear my own door open, and I hold my breath, still staring in the mirror.

There’s only one person who can get into Cage’s place and slam the doors that way.

He walks into the bathroom and stands behind me in the mirror, his tie gone, his jacket off, his collar undone. His hair is messy, as if he’s run his fingers through it while fighting himself about something, and I see the same dark look in his eyes that he had last night, right before he dominated me and I so willingly submitted.

“I thought you were staying at the bar for a drink,” I whisper.

But then I see Cage lifting a red blindfold in the mirror. It dangles like a new, exciting escapade.

“You need another lesson, Karini,” he whispers, right before he ties the silk around my head, making everything go black.

---