Page 18 of Billion Dollar Love: Manlove Edition

He keeps watching.

The silence crushes me.

“What more do you want? So what if I like the guy? He’s—”

Not my type. Not if last night was any indication of how dark my tastes run. “Nothing serious.”

I gesture vaguely to the diamond handcuffs, the mask, the … everything. “Listen, if you wanna keep this up after the show, I can tell him I’m committed to someone else. No big deal. But if you get tired of me by then…”

Fuck. I should have stopped half a sentence sooner. “Then … maybe I wanna get to know him better.”

Mr. Ito has the cruelest smile. I know I’ve walked headfirst into any other trap when he pulls something out of his pocket. “Get to know him better now.”

He extends a tiny case, a bit like those little velvet boxes engagement rings come in. “The nice boy or me, Omocha.”

The box is terribly light, and when I open it, I’m not sure what I’m looking at. Three squares. Smooth white bubble devices. With round black eyes.

“What’re these? Cameras?”

“Yes.”

I don’t understand.

“They clip magnetically. Or you can use the kickstand to steady it. Tap it twice to begin recording. It transmits wirelessly to my device.”

I don’t like this. “You want to record me at any given moment?”

“That’s a little obsessive, even for me.” He chuckles. “No, I have simpler desires. Record yourself with Carlos. When you ‘get to know him better’.”

The request stubbornly refuses to click into place. “Like … you want me to go on a date with him and record it?”

“I want you to fuck him and record it.”

Oh shit.

“I’d like to see you in action as a seducer and as a…” He says a Japanese word. It annoys him when he translates. “As a top. The more aggressive, the better.”

This is pushing a line I never thought I’d be anywhere close to. Totally disrespecting another man’s privacy. There’s no way.

But before I can speak, he says, “Take your time making your choice, Omocha.”

I remain sitting on the bed. Aching all over, burdened by the weight of such small light cameras. But I know myself. “I won’t do this.”

He shrugs. “You have until the end of the run to make your choice. I’ll know when you start filming. But I must go to work now. Go shower.”

I rise obediently. He’ll leave the apartment while I stand under the water, leave the mask on the wall when I cannot see him.

When I’m in the doorway of the bathroom, he pauses. “Harper.”

Christ, has he ever said my name? It sends chills up my spine.

He’s so perfectly put together, this man. His hair gelled in neat streaks, his pale brown suit crisp and professional. Just that damned demon mask.

His smile is reassuring. If I could see the rest of his face, I’d probably fall in love with him on the spot.

“I doubt I’ll tire of you any time soon.”

****

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