Page 40 of A Secret and a Lie
“I wouldn’t know.”
“What do you mean?” I inquire, my eyebrows creasing in my reflection.
“I haven’t touched her. I can’t.” He’s silent for a moment, his admission dangling in the air by a noose before he adds, “I don’t want her, because I want you.”
I want you.
“Ford,” I warn, despite the twist in my chest and the tightening of my nipples. I’m unsure what, specifically, I’m warning him against, but I use my Domme voice so he knows I’m serious.
He needs to lose my number. This can’t happen. No matter how much I want to slide between the sheets with the first man who’s caught my attention in years.
There’s too much at stake, especially with danger breathing down my neck.
He hasn’t touched her… He doesn’t want to, my subconscious whispers, and I rub at my temple like that’ll miraculously stop that knowledge from sinking in. It doesn’t. What his words do, however, is fill my belly with warmth.
I need to shut things down and create some distance, even if I have to ignore the tingling sensation coiling in my belly every time he speaks.
Ignoring my caution, he barrels on, “Go out with me.”
“I don’t date clients.” It’s the truth as much as it’s a reminder for myself.
“Fine,” he huffs. “Then I’d like to pay you to go out with me.”
In the mirror, I arch an eyebrow as I lean back against the wall. “You want to pay for a date with me?”
“Are you a matchmaking service or not?” He throws my words back from the first night we met.
I don’t submit.
I square my shoulders, steeling myself. “Yes, but—”
“Great, then I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he insists, interrupting me. “Add it to my invoice.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I squeeze my eyes shut against the blooming headache. I don’t think he’s going to back down from this. Relenting, I breathe out, “I’ll give you two hours.”
Two hours is perfect. Nothing bad can happen in two hours.
“Four.”
“What?” I blurt as shock roils through me.Surely, I misheard him.
“I want four hours with you.”
Fuck, how do I turn down forty grand in one night? At least that’s the excuse I make for myself.
“Pick me up outside my office.” I end the call, dropping my head back against the wall with a thud.
Humidity sticks to my bare legs like tape as I step through the open door to my building, and I wonder if the short, black designer dress I chose today was a mistake.
“Call if you need me,” Marcus murmurs before closing the door behind me. “But for the record, I don’t like this, Gen. I wish you’d let me come. I could sit outside, and I’d be there if you needed me.”
I smile at Marcus, my gratitude and affection genuine. I don’t approve of off-site visits anymore unless there are extensive security measures in place beforehand, which is why I’ve curated a safe place where everyone’s needs could be met. It reduces the risk for all parties involved, but especially my employees.
Agreeing to meet Ford outside of my building is unlike me, but there’s something about him that makes me feel as though I’m in nophysicaldanger, just emotional.
“Thank you, Marcus. You’ve always been such a good friend to me. I’ll be careful, and I’ll text you when I leave.”
A man I don’t recognize opens the rear door to the black SUV, smiling as he says, “Miss Watts, I presume. Mr. Crawford asked me to escort you this evening.”
