Page 39 of Disgrace

“Where are you going?” He steps forward as I step away, maintaining the same distance.

“Oh, you know, places to be, people to screw. Time is money and all that.” I retort with a tight, bitter smile.

“Oh, very mature, Sam. You misunderstand what’s going on here, and your first reaction is to go fuck a client,” he growls. I halt my retreat, and he steps forward, towering over me, but I won’t back down.

“At least I’m honest about it.” I snarl.

“Fuck, Sam, jealousy goes both ways. You think I’m not jealous when you work, when you fuck your clients? You think that doesn’t fucking tear me up?” His anger is tempered with a break in his voice that catches me off guard. He doesn’t mean it. He’s deflecting because he was caught with someone’s hand in his cookie jar.

“I don’t fuck my clients.” I lift my chin to meet his fierce, dark eyes, scowling with hurt and anger.

“Whatever you do then. You think it’s any different to know that they are getting off with you, touching you, touching what’s mine?” He reaches to touch my face but I flinch. “Sam?” I can hear his plea in his voice, his eyes look so sad as his hand drops.

“I’m no one’s, Jason. I’m just a whore.” I close my eyes before I turn and walk away.

“Fuck!” I yell to myself and turn sharply to the table where Peitra is sitting quietly, eyes wide but her lips are pinched tight in a self-satisfied smile that makes my blood boil. I want to tear something apart, I am so fucking angry with myself. Sam must know how I feel about her. She can’t have believed there was really anything going on. God, she looked so hurt, she braved out a good show, but her mask slipped, and I could see her break in front of me, just in her eyes but it was enough.Fuck!I pick my jacket off the seat and slip my wallet out of the pocket. I screw up a fifty pound note and throw it on the table in front of Peitra.

“Jason you don’t need to payme.” Her saccharin voice resembles nails on a chalkboard. I flinch at her tone and the implication.Fuck her.

“That’s a fifty not loose change.” I snap, and her brows shoot up in shock. “For my glass of champagne.” I slip my jacket on.

“But, Jason, we’ve ordered over a thousand pounds worth of Crystal!” she protests.

“Youordered Peitra.” I flash a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t reach past my mouth.

“How am I supposed to pay, Jason?” Panic and embarrassment colour her face, a mix of pale and pink.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” I start to walk past, but she grabs my arm and snarls, all white teeth and pink gums.

“I’m not thewhore,Jason!” Spittle flies from her lips, her eyes are narrow with pure venom.

“No, you’re not; my whore has way more class.Youare just a fucking bitch!” Her expression is one of utter shock, but I doubt that is the first time she’s been called that. She jumps back in her seat as if I have slapped her.If only.I shake my head as I push through the crowded club, eager to get out. I need to get some air. I need to clear my head, and then I need to make this fucking mess right.

I waited in my club for two hours before I checked on the room Sam had booked directly after storming out. The room was empty and no one had seen her enter or leave, but that’s not especially unusual. My momentary irritation at wasting my time is quickly replaced with relief that she wasn’t at the club fucking someone else. Her throw away threat was aimed with precision, hitting me hard, but that appears to be all it was, a threat. I know she hides behind her Domme mask and wears her title ofwhorelike a shield, but I don’t believe she would use sex betweenusas a weapon. Nevertheless, I hurt her and I don’t feel nearly as confident that there isn’t someone else capable of comforting her right now, and I hate that, because that is my job. The taxi pulls up outside Sam’s silent home and idles noisily at the curb at this late hour.

“Do you want me to wait for you, mate?” The driver calls out as I bound up the steps. I shake my head and wave him off. I start to pound on the door and ring her flat number, pressing the button repeatedly. The windows are all dark, but light flickers above the main door before it creaks open. Leon, is wearing at least a towel around his waist, this time.

“What the fuck, man?” He yawns loudly. I ignore his groggy grumble and push past him. His sleepy state is a little unstable and he stumbles after me as I make my way through Sam’s flat. Her bedroom door is wide open but her bed is empty. I switch her light on as if suddenly illuminating the room will reveal her, but there is nothing. I hear the front door slam and turn thinking Sam has escaped past me but I am faced with a dark scowl and her furious flatmate.

“What the fuck are you doing, Jason?” He blocks my way as I head for his room. It wouldn’t be the first time she sought solace in his room. My muscles clench, hands curl into tight fists, and I square up to him. He is almost as tall as me; we are nearly eye to eye. He is radiating anger in waves, but they simply butt against my own.

“Back off, Leon, I need to talk to her.” He places his hand on my chest to stop me from moving forward. I instantly grab and twist his wrist, slamming him hard against the wall. He turned his head just in time to prevent a broken nose but grunts as I lean my full force and weight against his back. “I’m not in the mood for a pissing contest, Leon. I want to see my girl. She’s upset and I won’t let a fucking stupid misunderstanding end this,” I growl in his ear. His initial resistance stops, and when I am sure he is not going to retaliate, I let go. He turns slowly, tightening his towel and eyeing me warily. I hold his gaze because I have nothing to hide and everything to lose.

“What did you do?” His glare hardens, and his eyes narrow.

“Let me see her.” I can feel the tension in my jaw. I don’t have time for this. “I need to sort this out, Leon. It’s important we talk,” I grit out with as much restraint as my frayed temper will allow.

“She’s not here. Honestly, I thought she was staying with you for a few days.” His brows furrow. His expression might be confused, but he is not lying.

“A few days?”

“Her case is gone from the hall. I assumed she was staying at your place.” He steps around me and walks into the kitchen. The light from the refrigerator casts a sickly glow over his tanned body, and I wait patiently for him to consume almost an entire litre of milk.

“Where would she go?” I ask.

His brows knit together in thought. “Tell me what happened, and I might help.” His tone is both cautious and a warning. I step angrily around the kitchen island. He slams the fridge door and we are again nose to nose. “Or don’t and good luck scouring the globe to find her. I’m just looking out for her, Jason. Something I didn’t think I had to do since she got with you. But hey, we all make mistakes.” His snide comment knocks the wind from my lungs. I slide back onto the kitchen stool and drop my head in my hands, feeling like a complete shit. He’s right; she shouldn’t need protecting from me. She shouldn’t ever hurt because of me.

“I fucked up.” I exhale the pain with a deep, steady breath and recall the events of the evening, cringing with every expression of disgust that flashes on his face.

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