Page 23 of Billion Dollar Love: Manlove Edition

Carlos glances at the door, fights his impulse to flee. “Harper, are you safe?”

“What?” I’m floored. I just told him I was prepared to secretly record us having sex for some stranger he’s never met, and Carlos is worried about my safety. “Yeah. It’s not … it’s not like that.”

He nods patiently. “Then what’s it like? Are you his boyfriend?”

Boyfriend isn’t in the same country as correct. Client is closer, but, Christ, do I hate the sound of that. Secret sugar daddy and devil who bought my soul seem just as accurate.

“It’s not your problem. You should go.”

Carlos crosses his arms, showing a little more spine than I thought. “Is he forcing you to have sex with him?”

“Forcing? No! It’s just power games. He’s…” I glance at the bathroom and the phone I’ve left there. But that’s not enough to ground me in this choice. Not enough to keep me from cracking under this pressure.“Fuck, I don’t even know. I’ve never seen his face. The sex is intense, but … it’s not really an equitable relationship. Then there’s the donations and I … I don’t know. Everything is mixed up.”

Carlos absorbs this all, in silence, for as long as he can endure it before suggesting. “But, like, do you love him?”

I scoff instinctively dismissing the idea of anything as plebeian as love. When I look up at Carlos to share this sentiment, his concerned expression hits me like a gut punch. I can’t imagine being this vulnerable with Mr. Ito, seeing this anxiety in the eyes behind the mask. I’d love things to be so easy and soft. Love for it to be more than lust. To feel about Mr. Ito the way I feel with Carlos.

The crack finally happens, and I know the truth.

I love Carlos.

This scares the shit out of me. But I can’t get away from it.

“Naw, man. I don’t love him.”

Carlos nods, accepting that. He’s not sure where he fits into all this. What he’s supposed to say.

So, I try once again to get him a safe distance away from the disaster zone that is my life. “But … I don’t want him to be suspicious. We have a deal until the end of the run and—”

The words won’t come out of my throat. I squeeze my eyelids tight to keep my tears in place. I take a deep breath and steady myself. “I should go back to him now. Get him to delete that video.”

Carlos looks at the cameras I’ve left on the counter. “Harper, I don’t wanna… well, get in the way of… of your dreams. How can I… how do I make this easier for you? Like would he still want us to—”

I shudder at the idea. “I’m not bringing you into his games. I’m not even sure I want to play his games anymore.”

Carlos looks up at me hopefully. “Well, I think that’s probably the healthy choice, but … I mean, you deserve someone with that kind of money, Harp. Someone who can take care of you. Really let you focus on your dancing.”

I shake my head. “I don’t need him to… We don’t need him. Look at all we accomplished. We got fund-raising, and since we did one camp successfully, we’ll be a sure thing for other donors. The money will come. Right?”

Carlos smiles sadly. “But what if it doesn’t?”

“Then fuck it,” I answer. “I don’t care. If this is as far as I could get, as the company could get then … that’s all. But I don’t want—”

I don’t want to sacrifice my feelings for Carlos. I can’t tell him that. Christ, not right now. But for the first time in my life, I don’t want my dreams to get in the way of my relationship.

“I don’t need the money, Carlos,” I tell him.

He smiles shyly, coming a little closer. “What were you actually going to say, Harp?”

His fingers brush over mine, probably using the last of his boldness to touch me. I wrap my fingers around his and hold his hand. “I don’t need him, Carlos.”

I squeeze his hand, trying to signal what I do need. To tell him who I need without words getting in the way.

“Cool, cool, cool. I’m glad you said that. Like really glad. ‘Cause I…” Carlos’s wide grin pinches into his shyness, and he pauses. He lowers his head, thinking hard about something.

“Can I kiss you again?” I ask.

His eyes shoot up to me, and he smiles faintly and nods.

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