Page 45 of Enthrall
A wave of disappointment hit me.
I wondered if he had a wife waiting for him, and if so would he go over his day with her like a normal couple. Perhaps he’d explain how the last few hours of this evening had unfolded with Cameron, Scarlet, and me in Enthrall’s playroom. She’d have to be more than open minded to cope with hearing about any of that. Being married to him she probably needed as much therapy as he did.
Maybe I should have taken that job in Best Buy, though the pay wouldn’t have come close to what Enthrall paid. It was exciting to hang out with Richard, even if he did seem overly confident. It was his worldliness, his charisma, that made him fun to be around. And he’d just spanked me in the playroom I was banned from, rounding out my education into his lifestyle.
My legs weakened and I wondered if I’d ever be able to tell Bailey.
Within a minute or two we’d made it to the front door of my ground floor apartment, and I made a mental run through of how I’d left the place. Tidy, as far as I could remember.
“Next time choose a second floor apartment,” he said. “It’s safer.” He frowned towards my left neighbor’s front door; gunshots from a television poured into the courtyard.
We stepped inside my place and the noise dimmed.
“This is a studio.” His horrified stare roamed the bedroom, sweeping over to the bathroom door.
“Yes.” I strolled over to the kitchen, wondering how long he was thinking of staying and hating the idea of him judging me.
“I thought we were paying you well?”
“You are.”
“Do you have tea?” he said. “Caffeine free?”
“I can make you coffee.”
He looked amused. “Thought you didn’t have any?”
Didn’t he know theI have no coffee code?
He followed. “Is it decaf?”
“No.” I opened a cupboard and reached for the Nescafe jar.
“Oh, instant. Yum.” He stared at it. “Just water for me then.” He leaned back against the counter.
With a twist of the tap I poured him a glass of water from the faucet.
“You haven’t lived in L.A. long have you?” he said.
“How do you know?” I offered him the glass.
With a wave, he declined it. “You can’t drink the tap water here.”
“Why?”
“Tastes nasty. Amongst other things. Do you have any bottled water?” He widened his gaze. “Not that that’s any safer.”
“How do mean?”
“The plastic’s absorbed into the water.” He shrugged, and his steady gaze studied my fridge. “How old is that thing?”
“My best friend gave it to me.”
He opened the freezer door, reached in, and removed one of the low fat meals.
“Would you like one?” I said.
He shoved it back. “It would certainly serve as a reasonable punishment for what happened to you tonight.”
