Opposition: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (NYC Doms), page 7
To be honest, I could get used to this.
I ignore the whispers and catcalls.
“Listen,” I tell him. “I can take it from there.”
“Mr. Alexander gave me orders, ma’am. Escort you to your residence, then wait until you need another ride.”
“So, you have to babysit me?” I ask, hating that I’m secretly pleased by the gesture. “Like I’m a child?”
He quirks a brow. “You might do well with a nap.”
Now I know why he hired this guy.
I sigh and let him walk me to my apartment.
“I’ll be waiting down here,” he says, then salutes me before he leaves.
I let myself in, step over a couple that’s doing something grossly sexual on the floor of our entryway, pass two teens discreetly vaping under the stairwell, and take the stairs two at a time until I get to our apartment.
I’m glad Liam didn’t come. I’d hate for him to have to see this.
Why do I care?
Opening the door to our apartment, I step in and shut the door quickly. Ben drops the book he’s reading and dives toward me, hugging me around the middle so hard I lose my breath. Bailey waves a wooden spoon to me from the kitchen and smiles at Ben’s antics.
“You actually came home for dinner?” Ben asks, and I feel a little guilty. The designer pizza weighs heavily in my stomach.
“Well, to be honest, I just came home to see you two,” I tell him. “I ate dinner with a friend already.”
Friend?
More like FRENEMY.
Liam Frenemy Alexander.
“What’d you eat?” Bailey asks.
“Pizza.” I don’t need to tell them it was million-dollar pizza on a rooftop.
“Ha! That’s what we’re having.” She opens the stove and takes a pizza out of the oven. “It’s one of the ones you got the other night.”
“Oh, right,” I tell her with a sad attempt at a laugh. Why do I feel so guilty? Why do I have to hide Liam from them? Because you don’t want them to know how badly you are at taking care of them, a nasty little voice whispers through me.
I sit at the dining room table while they eat and talk about school and how things are going.
“So… how was parent-teacher night?” Bailey asks, not meeting my eyes. She’s dying to know but trying to play it safe.
“Oh, it went well.” I tell her. “Everyone says you’re doing great in school. I was a little late but still managed to see everyone.”
She beams at me before she takes another bite of pizza.
“I’m glad you two are good students. Honest to God, I don’t know how I’d do it otherwise.”
“Wellll,” Ben says. He’s ten-years-old with the same flaming red hair that I have, his face a mass of freckles. Biting his lip, he looks away. “Can’t really tell you I did super great on my spelling quiz.”
“Oh?” I ask pointedly. “Why not?”
“Well, the words were stupid,” he says, his eyes flashing. “They all had silent letters. Which is dumb. D-u-m. Who needs that “b”? It’s just plain dumb.” He snickers.
“You know you get in trouble if your grades sink, Ben. You’ve got to do your best.”
“I know,” he says. “Well I get to take it again tomorrow.”
“Okay, good.” I’m hard on them about their grades, because it’s all they’ve got left. The only way I’m even able to go to college is because I got a scholarship. There’s no way we’d be able to afford anything else and I’m depending on their grades to get them scholarships too.
We talk easily, until Bailey gives me a coy look. “So,” she says. “Jennifer’s mom told Andrea’s mom who told Andrea who told me, that you got into a fancy-pants car at school.”
I knew someone would see.
“Mhm,” I say, not meeting her eyes, and pretending to be very interested in the permission form I have to sign for Ben’s science class.
“Mhm?” she parrots. “What’s that supposed to mean? Did you, or didn’t you?”
I give her a withering look. She looks just like me, except her eyes are a shade darker and she’s much thinner, like the lithe limbs of a willow tree.
“I did. And that’s all I’m telling you.”
“Really? OMG, Cora, come on. You haven’t had a boyfriend in like years, and the first time you go on a date with some guy, you don’t even tell us?”
I hold up my hand in protest. “There’s no date. He’s just a guy I know.”
“So, he didn’t buy you food?”
“Well, he did, but—”
“Did he flirt?”
“I, well I don’t exactly know if—”
“Did he kiss you!?”
I sigh but don’t respond. Bailey’s a romantic matchmaker who loves to be involved in every single romantic relationship she can.
“Enough, Bailey. Change the subject now.”
Deflated, she leans back in her chair and shreds her pizza with her fingers into little squares she pops in her mouth.
Releasing a deep sigh, she looks heavenward as if practicing patience with me.
“You know, Cat Lady came by today.”
Ugh. Cat Lady is our snarky term for our landlord. No one else in the entire apartment building is allowed to have pets, but she’s got a veritable menagerie in her place. I’m one week overdue on the rent, and she’s not gonna be happy.
“She says we’re overdue,” Bailey says. “And then when she realized you weren’t home, she started in about calling Child Protective Services. Says it’s illegal.” Bailey frowns. “I might be tiny and short, but it doesn’t mean I’m not capable of watching us.”
“Of course, you are,” I tell her. “And I’ll have her rent money on Friday.” Desperation claws at my belly, angry and fierce. She came when I wasn’t here on purpose and threatened my siblings. I hate her. I hate my mother for putting us through this. I hate myself for not holding us together.
But I will.
The proposition niggles in the back of my mind. I can’t sell myself to keep us together. Bailey wouldn’t want that.
Do I have to sell myself? Or can I make it a game?
No no no no no no no.
It’s kinky prostitution.
“She said tomorrow, or she’ll tell the police.”
I sigh. “Of course, she did.” She doesn’t have the right to evict us quite yet, but legally I’ve been late so many times on the rent, she can make my life a living hell.
“I tried to call you,” Bailey says, “but it just went to voicemail.”
“Will we have to go to a shelter?” Ben asks, his voice trembling.
“No,” I tell him emphatically. “And Bailey, I couldn’t call you or take your call because my phone is broken.” I groan. “I need to replace it.” But how the hell can I replace it when rent is overdue?
“Oh boy,” Bailey says with a groan.
I run a hand across my forehead and close my eyes. “I’ll figure something out, guys. I promise. Just eat your dinner and get your homework done, okay? I’ve got to get to work.”
“When do you have time to take care of you, Cora?” Bailey asks softly. “You look like you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks. I hear you, up at night, doing your homework when we’ve gone to bed. Studying, typing. You get no sleep and you’re running on fumes.”
“I know,” I say, shaking my head to dismiss her concerns. “I’m fine, honey. This is what people do in college.”
The lie sounds foolish even to me. This is what people do in college? Work two jobs and get no sleep so they can keep their families together? Or do they get drunk at frat parties and lose their virginity?
It doesn’t matter. None of it really matters. All that matters is that I’m doing the best I can to hold us together.
I go to my room and get dressed for Verge.
I need a phone.
I need to pay rent.
I need some rest.
And I need to get Liam Alexander out of my mind.
I whisper a silent prayer. Until recently, this all seemed so possible. So promising.
And now all I’ve got is a proposition from an asshole to sell myself to him like a fucking whore.
But as I sit in the car on the way to Verge, my mind begins to wander.
What would it mean to be his submissive for eight weeks?
What would he expect of me?
No one ever needs to know…
I shake my head when I get out at the club. I can’t let myself be swayed by this temptation. I make my way to the entrance, I knock, then smile at Geoff when he answers.
“Cora. Nice to see you.”
“Hey. How’s Giada doing? I heard she was under a major deadline and no one’s seen her.”
“She’s good,” he says. “But am I ever ready for her to get this book in already. I’ve hardly seen her.” Giada is his girlfriend, and she’s a writer. Occasionally she gets caught under a deadline and goes missing for days at a time, totally consumed with her work. Geoff puts up with it, and even though he grumbles, he’s proud of her. We all are. She and Chandra are excellent writers, and I love when we get to display their new books at Marla’s store.
“How are you?” he asks. And there’s something in his tender tone that makes a lump rise in my throat. I’m so wound up, someone I hardly know has me near tears with the most common of pleasantries.
“I’m good,” I say, ducking my head so he doesn’t see the tears well in my eyes. “Gotta get to work.” I step quickly past him and nearly collide into Braxton and Zoe in the waiting area.
“I’m not gonna do it,” she says. “No way, no how.”
“Do what?” I ask. Zoe’s standing with her hands on her hips squaring off to Braxton. She’s little, but the girl’s a spitfire.
“A demonstration,” Zoe says, her black hair falling on her forehead when she looks at me. “The people scheduled to demonstrate tonight are sick, and everyone’s come here for a show.” She waves a hand in the direction of the bar entrance behind her. “It’s full in there.”
“Who was scheduled to demonstrate what?”
“Beatrice and Zack were demonstrating the flogger,” Zoe supplies. “But Beatrice got a stomach bug, and you know Zack. He doesn’t scene with anyone else, ever. So Brax is trying to talk me into it, and a public demonstration is just not my thing.” My pulse races at the sound of the word flogger. It sounds terrible. Flogging is like a hard whipping or something, right? Zoe gives Brax a coy look. “Not to mention the fact that I enjoy the flogger on bare skin, and that ain’t happening in front of anyone else.”
Is she mad?
Brax sighs and looks heavenward, shaking his head.
“Aww. Well I’m sure Tobias will find someone.” I feel bad for Zoe but can’t imagine doing something like that myself.
“Find someone to do what?”
No.
I know that voice, and I want him to leave. A petty, juvenile part of me wants to take my ball and go home.
I was here first!
My skin prickles at the sound of the familiar voice behind me, and when I turn, there he is. No longer in his suit, he’s wearing black club attire, bare, tattooed arms folded across his chest, feet planted apart. Tonight, he isn’t wearing a mask, though, and he’s staring right at me.
“Cora,” he greets with a nod.
“Liam,” I respond coolly.
“Oh, hey, Liam,” Zoe says, like he’s just some guy who dropped by for a drink and not Liam Alexander, filthy rich asshole and dream destroyer.
“Hey,” he says with a nod.
Brax explains. “Tobias had a demonstration planned tonight, and people have been looking forward to it, but Beatrice is sick, and Zack won’t scene with just anyone. I was trying to convince Zoe to do it with me.” He rolls his eyes at her. “And she’s not into it.” He mutters under his breath, “But if she continues being so ornery, we’ll have a private session soon.”
Zoe’s cheeks flush a little and she juts her chin out but doesn’t respond.
“What type of demonstration?” Liam drawls in that sexy voice of his.
Oh my God. He is not considering this! I can’t… I won’t… just no. Demonstrations usually take place in the dungeon, I think? But the thought of him wielding a flogger on another girl…
Why does that bother me?
Ha. It doesn’t. I’m just wound up from today.
But it does.
“Flogger,” Brax says. “And it’s no free will offering, either. Tobias has been promoting demonstrations, and the turnout tonight’s pretty solid. There’s a damn good payout for the demo.”
A payout? They’re paying someone?
Hold the phone.
“I’ll do it,” Liam says. “Take me to Tobias?”
Zoe and I share a wide-eyed stare when the men walk into the bar area together.
“What does he think he’s doing?” I hiss at Zoe.
Shrugging, she just smiles. “Liam’s an expert top,” she says. “Didn’t you know that? He’s an old friend of Tobias’. I’m just a little surprised he’s interested in doing a demonstration, because he’s typically very private.”
Of course he is.
Is he doing this just to show off for me? What the hell?
“C’mon,” Zoe says. “I could use a drink, and you’re the woman for the job.”
Why does it bother me so much that Liam’s considering this? I have no claim on him. He’s made a ridiculous proposition, and one I’m not super into agreeing to. But as I walk to the bar and wrap an apron around my mid-section, I think about his proposition.
What exactly would it entail? God, I could use that money.
I greet Travis in a sort of haze, my mind preoccupied. Pulling drinks, wiping down the counter, refilling the little bowls of roasted nuts. I do my job like an automaton, barely registering what I’m doing.
Could I scene with Liam? Hell, all he did was take me over his lap for a pretty tame spanking, and he made me climax. What would it really be like scening with him?
Tobias approaches the bar and Travis hands him a drink.
“Find anyone to demo yet, Tobias?” I ask, feigning nonchalance. Travis gives me a sidelong look I don’t miss. My voice is unnaturally high-pitched and shaky.
“Got a top,” Tobias says. “Liam’s offered to demonstrate. Still looking for a bottom, though. I would have thought people would leap at a chance to scene with a guy like him, but I think people find him intimidating.”
Oh, really? I think to myself. Good looks, filthy rich, and a dom. What’s intimidating about that?
How about the fact that he’s an asshole?
I look around the room. It really is pretty busy here tonight, busier than usual, and I notice the pool tables and circular tables and chairs have all moved to the side so there’s a wide-open wall in front of us.
“Why is the room all rearranged?” I ask Tobias.
“For the demonstration that might not happen,” Tobias responds, sipping his drink. “We decided to do a demonstration here rather than the Dungeon, because people complained demonstrations in the dungeon detracted from play.”
“Ah. Well, that makes sense,” I say, and I’m surprised I can talk at all given that my mouth is dry and feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton.
Liam steps onto the floor, wielding a wicked looking tool in his hand, crimson red with strips of leather.
Oh my God. That’s the flogger.
“Are floggers super painful?” I ask quietly.
“Nah,” Travis says. “The name makes it sound wicked, but it’s pretty tame. It can produce a good sting, and not all floggers are the same, but it’s a good beginner’s implement.”
“Really?” I say, my voice weirdly squeaky.
“That’s why I chose it for tonight’s demonstration,” Tobias says. “So we can dispel some myths about floggers. Newcomers think they’re brutal, but they rarely are. I mean, like Travis said, you definitely can work up a good sting with one, but they’re nowhere near as intense as a leather strap or tawse.”
I pull a few more drinks and hand them out, smiling at the patrons who come for a drink, but I’m a million miles away.
Liam’s giving a demonstration. They need someone willing to receive the pain. And there’s a payout.
I pour a drink for a customer, and as I hand it to him, Liam approaches the bar. I open my mouth to say something, then realize he didn’t come to speak to me but Tobias. Nervously, I turn away, and accidentally knock the glass of whiskey over and it spills all over a guy sitting at the bar.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I say, heat creeping up my neck, I’m so embarrassed.
“Hey!” the guy says, jumping back from the bar. I grab a bar mop. “Stupid bitch,” he mutters. “Got me wet.”
My cheeks flame with indignation. He did not!
But before I can say a thing to defend myself, Liam’s got the guy by the back of the shirt, pulling him straight out of his chair like he’s a child.
No way. I blink in surprise.
“What did you call her?” he says in a dangerous tone. My heart thuds in my chest. What the hell is going on here? Liam gives the guy a shake.
The man is like half Liam’s size, though to be fair, it seems most guys are, because he’s freaking huge. The man squirms and tries to get away. “Hey!” he yells to Tobias. “No one’s allowed to manhandle anyone. You’re the owner. Do something!”
“You violated the rules of conduct first,” Tobias says coolly. Travis stands next to me with his arms crossed on his chest, glaring at the jerk.
Ok, so, I really love it here.
“I believe you owe the lady an apology,” Liam says, in a “make my day” tone of voice that, to my dismay, actually makes my heart skip a beat.
No one’s ever defended me before.
No one.
Ever.
Why does it have to be this jerk?
“I’m sorry,” the guy mumbles. “Now let me go.”
