Exposed to You (4 page)

“I think I need a
glass of wine,” I said and went to help myself in the kitchen.

When Monday afternoon rolled
around, and Mr. King still hadn’t responded, I became an emotional wreck. I
oscillated from shame and self-pity to anger, and finally the last one stuck—I
was seething and ready to rip him a new one. Who did he think he was, not
bothering to respond to my email? Did he think he could get away with it? Well,
I’d show him that I was not the pushover he’d so obviously labeled me. If
necessary, I would embarrass him in front of all his colleagues, out him for
being a complete pig.

By the afternoon, I’d
decided to take matters into my own hands. I took the subway back to his
office, seething the entire way. My anger didn’t even fade when I stepped into
the lobby. Madeline the receptionist looked surprised to see me again so soon
but greeted me warmly.

“I have to speak with
Mr. King about an urgent matter,” I said in a clipped tone.

“Mr. King is very busy
today,” Madeline warned me.

“It will only take
five minutes.”

“All right then, I’ll
try.” She picked up her phone. “Mr. King, Miss Clair is here. She says she
needs to speak with you about an urgent matter.”

I bit my lip, waiting
for him to tell her to throw me out. Instead, her eyes widened in surprise and
she opened a calendar on her computer. “It’s in fifteen minutes. Should I
cancel, or tell them you’ll be late?”

I was momentarily
surprised, and then suspicious. Perhaps he thought I was going to take him up
on his offer. That I was so desperate for a job, I would allow myself to be
treated that way again.

Boy would he be
surprised.

Madeline escorted me
down the hall, looking at me as if for the first time. “It must be very
important,” she said to herself or me, I wasn’t sure which.

Some of my anger was
slipping, and I tried to stir it back up again. Confronting him had seemed like
a much better idea before I’d left the house. I’d been so busy fuming; I hadn’t
taken the time to think about what I would do when I actually saw him again.

Madeline opened the
door and announced my entrance before hastily exiting again. Mr. King was
resting his chin on his hands, a smug smile on his face.

“I was hoping you
would return.”

“You didn’t respond to
my email.”

“No, I did not. Like I
said, I was hoping you would return.”

I narrowed my eyes.
“I’m not here because of that. I’m here to find out what you plan to do with
those pictures.”

“It’s really none of
your business,” he said calmly.

“None of my business?
The pictures are of me!” I was angry again and didn’t care who heard me. Good,
I’d ruin his reputation.

Mr. King seemed
unfazed by my outburst; he simply shrugged casually. “You signed an agreement.”

“Yeah, an agreement
that says I won’t tell anyone. And don’t worry, I won’t be telling anyone about
your sick project!”

He put a hand against
his heart, pretending to be wounded. “That hurts, Miss Clair.”

“You never even told
me what your project was about before you…” My sentence trailed off, but he
ignored it anyway.

“The agreement read
that in addition to not betraying my projects, whatever photographs we took
would become my property,” he said softly.

My mouth fell open.
“You didn’t tell me that either. You tricked me and I trusted you like an
idiot.”

He smirked. “You’re
young. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

My hands balled into
fists at my sides. I was either going to destroy his office in a rage or burst
into tears, I didn’t know which. My heart was beating so fast, it took me a few
moments to speak.

“You are a bad guy,” I
said finally, holding back my tears.

Mr. King chuckled and
stood up, came around his desk to stand in front of me. He moved to touch my
hair but I jerked away.

“I’ve heard that
before, but that’s what some people like about me,” he whispered in my ear.

I began to shake.
“What are you planning to do with those pictures? Are you going to sell them on
some porn site or something?”

“Of course not.” He
looked disgusted with the idea. “I’m not a total cretin.”

“You just trick
twenty-something girls into letting you take pictures of them.”

“Twenty-two year old
girl
,”
he corrected, sitting down on his desk and crossing his arms. “And as I recall,
this whole thing went down a lot differently. We took some test pictures, I
offered you a modeling job, and you turned it down. We entered into some
consensual foreplay—because let’s face it, you didn’t stop me—I went upstairs
to bring you breakfast the next morning, and you were gone. I thought you
weren’t interested. In my proposal or in me.”

I stared at him. How
could such a gorgeous and successful man be completely insane? How was it that
he got by day to day without anybody realizing it?

“Sit down, Amy,” he
said sternly.

“No.”

His jaw clenched.
“That was your free pass, Amy. I’ve let you storm into my office and say what
you want, and now it’s my turn. The next time you disrespect me, I’ll take you over
my knee, no matter where we are.”

“I’m not into that
kind of thing,” I retorted, crossing my arms.

His look didn’t waver.
“We’ll find out.”

My legs practically
buckled under me as I sank down on his pristine couch. I had to find a way to
get those pictures back. Even if he actually was being honest and didn’t plan
to sell them, the idea of him keeping them to look at as desired freaked me
out.

“Let’s talk this
through, shall we?” he said and moved his desk chair in front of the couch
again, sat down on it. “You’re angry, I can see that. But isn’t there a part of
you that is interested in my proposal?”

“No! I just want my
pictures.”

He raised an eyebrow.
“I beg to differ, Amy. I think you enjoyed our time together much more than
you’re letting on. I felt it with my own fingers.” He lifted his right hand and
twitched his fingers, smiling a half smile.

Blood rushed to my
cheeks, but I clenched my jaw and didn’t drop my gaze.

“Now,” he leaned
forward and clasped his hands together loudly. “You claim to be here about the
pictures, but I think there is something more. I think you’re actually
interested in getting to know me better.”

“In your dreams,” I
said and crossed my arms.

He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not such a bad guy. I said I would give you a decent salary and a place to
live. Have you found another place to live in the meantime?”

“Anywhere but with
you!” I spat.

“Don’t be childish.” He
frowned at me as if disappointed. “And it’s impolite not to answer a question.”

I sat there, seething.

He sighed, leaned back
in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “All right, seeing as you seem
a bit shy about going first, how about I start? When you came into my office on
Friday afternoon, I could tell you were completely nervous about the modeling
thing. You met all of the physical requirements I listed, but you definitely
didn’t have the personality.”

I glared at him, but
he only smiled and continued.

“Still, there was
something about you that I instantly liked. Something raw. Genuine. Learning
more about you, something struck a chord with me. I loved your blush.”

At the last sentence,
Mr. King turned a bit red himself and sat forward quickly, as if to draw
attention away from it. My breathing slowed slightly at his confession, despite
how I felt about him.

He cleared his throat.
“Many women have called me a jerk over the years, and I get that. I can be
emotionally insensitive at times. I’ve never cared about what they think or
what they’re about, but you’re different, Amy. I want to get to know you.”

I rolled my eyes and
looked away. “So you can take more photographs of me?”

It took him a moment
to respond. “Well, yes. But also because… you turn me on.”

My head snapped back
to him and I gaped. “So you want to have sex with me? Well sorry, Mr. King, but
I’m not that kind of girl.”

I got to my feet and
stomped to his office door. Before leaving, I turned back. “My friend Luke is a
lawyer. If you don’t delete those pictures, I’m going to contact him and find a
way to sue.”

His eyes turned cold
and he and stood up slowly, buttoning his suit jacket.

“Miss Clair, I
appreciate your opinion on this matter, and respect your freedom of speech to
barge into my office and demand my property, but the agreement you signed was
legal and binding and will hold up in a court of law. Besides, while I’m sure
your friend is an excellent lawyer, I have the means to secure an excellent
lawyer myself and do not foresee a court date going smoothly.
Pictures
would have to be shown as evidence.”

I swallowed, my hand
shaking on the doorknob.

“Good day, Miss
Clair,” he said icily before sitting back down at his desk.

Tears pricked me eyes
as I stormed out of Mr. King’s office and past Madeline with a simple wave. I pushed
the button for the elevator repeatedly, as if it might speed up the process.
Once alone in the safety of the elevator, I leaned against the metal wall and let
the tears slide down my cheeks. I’d always been emotional, and I cursed myself
again for not being stronger.

I hadn’t planned to
talk to Luke about the matter—it had just slipped out. Now that the idea had
been voiced and I realized how fruitless it would be, I felt even more
depressed. There was nothing left to do; I was going to have to get over the
entire ordeal and live with the fact that Mr. King had nude photos of me. Chalk
it up to a learning experience.

I shivered as I walked
through the busy streets, even though it was a warm, humid day. In order to
warm up, I ducked into a coffee shop—Cat and Fiddle Café—and ordered a hot
chocolate. As luck would have it, a comfy chair was available beside the
fireplace. I sat down and crossed one leg over the other, stared at the black
leather boots I’d worn to present a tougher appearance. So much for that.

There was nothing left
to do but accept what had happed, and so I spent the next hour working through
it and trying to cheer myself up.

What was the worst
that could happen? He would look at them. Obviously. He would sell them. Okay,
that was a possibility. He said he wouldn’t, but he’d proved I couldn’t trust him.
Still, I had been bent over for the nude photo. Technically no one would be
able to tell it was me. Then again, connected with the other photos, it would
be hard to refute…

My thoughts traveled
in circles until there was no denying that I had to stop thinking about it.
Trying to predict his actions was only going to drive me crazy.

For now, I needed to
focus on surviving in New York City.

I looked around the
café. Empty dishes were scattered everywhere and newspapers and magazines were
glued to the tables with coffee splotches. I wondered if they were in need of
some help. It was certainly not what I wanted to do for the rest of my life,
but maybe I could help out for a bit.

I walked up to the
counter to give them my dirty mug and asked, “Are you hiring by any chance?”

 The server at the
cashier was around my age with auburn hair and bright, green eyes. She looked
up and smiled widely.

“Yeah, for sure! Are
you interested?” She waved the question away and continued. “I’m Assistant
Manager and can interview you right now. We could really use the help.”

We returned to where
I’d been sitting and she introduced herself. “I’m Michelle. We aren’t usually
this disorganized, but a bunch of students just quit on us when they graduated
and got ‘real’ jobs.”

Ouch. I bit my lip
before responding. “I should probably warn you that I’ve just graduated as
well. I’m looking for work until I find something in my field. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I understand,”
Michelle smiled. “It’s the nature of this kind of position. Have you ever
served before? Made lattes and cappuccinos?”

“No, but I’m a quick
learner.”

Michelle beamed.
“Great. Can you start tomorrow?”

***

When I got home, I was
in much better spirits than when I’d left. I had a plan now. The job didn’t pay
well by any means, but it was temporary and with my savings, it would allow me
to survive for… Well, three months. Three months to find something better was
doable.

“I feel bad that we
can’t live together again,” Sam said, tucking her dark hair over her shoulder
before picking up another box to move into the living room. She was wearing an
oversized T-shirt and leggings, her legs six miles long.

“Seriously, it’s okay,
Sam. Of course you should move in with Luke. Don’t worry about me.” I was
sitting on her bed with my laptop, scrolling through apartment rentals.