The Complete Arrogant Series (28 page)

“Let’s get out of here.” He doesn’t stick his arm out this
time, and I make sure I’m walking at least three strides behind him.

When we emerge among the living, the blinding afternoon
light sears my eyes. I want to ask if he’s mad at me, but I can’t say a word.
We walk in total silence back to Townsend Tower, and when we reach the end of
our hallway, I refuse to let him walk away without at least telling me where I
stand.

With my hand on the door to my office, I inhale, and say,
“If I’m not right for you, tell me now.”

Only he doesn’t answer, and by the time I turn around, he’s
gone and his door is shut. I’m not sure he heard me, and I’m not sure I have
the courage to march into his office and ask that question one more time.

I plop down in my chair and rest my head in my hand before
reaching for a pen. It’s the silver bullet pen I signed the consent form with.
I spin it around as fast as I can like I’m playing spin the bottle.

Not that I’ve ever played spin the bottle.

I’m not sure what else there is for me to do until Dane
tells me what’s going on.

Two hours pass before my desk phone rings. I clear my
throat.

“Bellamy speaking.”

“Do you trust me?” The sound of Dane’s voice sends a
pleasant electric current down the center of me that incinerates the bulk of my
worries.

Am I already
that conditioned to crave his attention?

I teeter a bit, not sure if I should tell him the truth and
risk being kicked to the curb or tell him I wholeheartedly trust him.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” he says.

Is this a
trick question?

“I don’t know you that well yet,” I say.

“Correct answer.” He ends the call, and within twenty
seconds he’s standing in front of my desk. “You don’t trust me yet, Bellamy,
and that’s normal. You shouldn’t trust me. That’s something we build over time.
Together.”

He steps from the front of my desk to where I’m seated,
pulling me up. We’re separated by a couple close inches, our scents mingling.

“What you did earlier,” he says, his jaw clenched. “At the
Crystal Swan...”

“What did I do?”

“The fear, Bellamy. You thought I was going to hurt you when
you spoke out of turn. You covered your mouth, and I saw it all in your eyes
when you flinched. You can’t be afraid of me, or this will never work.”

“I’m not afraid
of
you
,” I hold my head up. “I’m afraid
to
disappoint
you.”

“Fear is fear.” He lifts a hand to the side of my face. “I’m
not a sadist, Bellamy. Fear and pain don’t mix with pleasure. Not for me. I’ll
never degrade you, humiliate you, punish you publicly or painfully, and I’ll
never abuse you.”

“I understand.”

“Why don’t we take a night to sleep on all this? I imagine
it’s been a pretty intense day for you.”

My heart drops with a quick thud, and I’m ninety-nine
percent sure he’s in the process of changing his mind about me.

“Why is your face falling like that?” The corner of his
mouth twists up, revealing a flash of a dimple I’d give anything to run my
fingertips against. “You think I’m letting you go? You think I’m going to
change my mind?”

I nod, my head falling. He lifts it up, forcing our gazes to
meet.

“I’m taking things slow. This night, this extra time to
think things over, it’s all for you.” I get lost in his stormy eyes for a split
second and forget about the absurdity of this entire arrangement. “My goal is
to keep you constantly turned on and thinking of me. There’s no greater feeling
than being wanted, Bellamy. So if you want to know what I get out of this power
exchange?
If it’ll help put your mind at ease?
There
you have it. I get off on knowing a beautiful woman can’t stop thinking of me.
It’s a power trip like you wouldn’t believe, and one I’m fully addicted to.”

“So it’s about power and sex?” My voice comes out meeker
than I intended, my vocal chords strained.

Dane’s lips spread wide. “That’s exactly what it’s about.
Sex is power, Bellamy.”

He’s exactly right.

Sex.

Is.

Power.

BELLAMY

“How was your first day of work, sweetie?” My mother asks as
if she cares.

Summer and Kath buzz about the kitchen, doing final prep
work for dinner as the younger kids start ushering in from the family room. Dad
should be home soon.

“How’s your boss?” Summer asks. “Do you like him? Or is it a
her?”

I almost choke on my iced tea. “My boss is a man.”

“Okay, so tell us about him,” Summer pushes.

I crack a smile because it’s all I can do to relieve the
intense pressure building inside me. I’ve got to frame his description in a way
that doesn’t give away a thing, and for that, I need a bit more time.

Besides, I’m still trying to wrap my head around what
I
think of him.

“He’s just a regular boss.” My shoulder slinks up to my ear,
and I shake my head. “You know, business suit. Doesn’t smile much. No
nonsense.”

“I’ve never worked outside the home, so I wouldn’t know.”
Mom juts her lips out and shrugs. If her eyebrows were lifted any higher,
they’d fly off her face.

“I had a job once.” Summer glances off to the left. “Dairy
farm. Dirty job. Stinky. But it was fun. Oh, and then I nannied for the
farmer’s family. Two jobs. Same boss.”

Kath doesn’t speak; then again, she doesn’t speak much.
She’s the calmest and quietest of the three of them. We don’t know much about
her life before she met my father, just that she was married to some preacher
who abused her. None of us know an ounce of the details, and none of us have
the poor sense to go prying.

“Do you think you’ll like your new job then?” Summer hands
me a stack of thin ceramic plates, and I make my way around the table with
them.

“I think so. It’s still early, but it looks promising.” I
set all but the last four
plates,
stopping momentarily
to appreciate the buzzing that goes clear through to my fingertips.

What is that?
Nerves? Excitement? Anticipation?

“What kinds of things will you be doing?” Mom asks.

My cheeks flush red out of nowhere. I’m not sure how Dane
expects me to spend the afternoon in some sex lair and then go home like
nothing happened. Scratch that. I’m not sure how I expected myself to be able
to do that.

I drag in a slow, cleansing breath. “I don’t know yet. I’ll
be assisting the CEO and probably doing a little bit of everything.”

Literally
.

“Dad’s home!” One of my little brothers, True, comes ripping
and snorting from down the hall, and the slam of the front door follows with my
father’s footsteps growing close.

It’d be really great if I could compartmentalize everything…

Starting now.

“Hey, champ.” Dad ruffles True’s head and works his way to
my mom, kissing her cheek. “And how’s Little Miss?”

Little Miss. The nickname I’ve still yet to outgrow even at
twenty-two.

“Good.” I take a seat halfway down the table, sandwiched
between Waverly’s spot and my other sister, Honor.

The doorbell chimes and several of us crank our necks to
glance out the window.

“Who’s here?” Honor crinkles her nose.

“Not sure,” I mumble.

“Oh!” Mom wipes her hands on her apron and leans around us
to peer at the driveway. She runs a smooth palm over her hair and tucks it
behind her ears as she unties her apron. “It’s Cortland.”

“Cortland travels on Mondays.” I stand up, brows angled and
unsure if I should work my way toward the door or not, but within seconds, Mom
has beaten me to it.

My father catches my glance and nods toward the door,
silently telling me to greet my suitor.

I can’t forget to feign excitement whenever he’s near,
though it’s excruciatingly difficult when all I feel is a sick, heavy dread in
the center of my chest when I see him. I slap a smile on my face and tiptoe to
the foyer where my mother is gushing over something in her hand.

She turns to me and holds it out. “Look, Bellamy. I
mentioned to Cortland last week that my favorite gold locket had cracked. He
took it to his cousin who happens to own the jewelry store on Outpost Avenue.
Had it fixed for me. Isn’t he the sweetest?”

Cortland grins like a harmless boy scout, his gaze traveling
back and forth between us.

“I thought you were traveling today? The northeastern
territory?” I ask.

“I stuck around town today,” he says. “Took care of a few
local places.
Swapped territories with my brother, Corbin.
He’s been itching for new turf anyway. Think we might make it official.
Besides, I’d like to be around more to get to know my future wife a little
better.”

My insides twist like they’re caught in a vice grip. I loved
that he traveled, and I loved that I only had to see him twice a week. The fact
that he’ll be local now means he’s going to find every opportunity he can to
come over.

“Have you eaten yet?” My mother extends the invitation I saw
coming three seconds ago. Sometimes I think I know her better than she knows
herself.

“Oh, I don’t want to impose, Mrs. Miller.” He answers her
but looks at me.

“We’d love to have you.” I lie through my teeth and a
close-mouthed half-smile. “I’ll set another place at the table.”

“You’re practically family,” my mother says, taking him by
the arm and leading him away. “You’re always welcome here, Cortland.”

Minutes later, we’re scrunched at the table, side by side,
our arms touching but our postures perfectly respectable. At one point his hand
slips off his knee and onto mine under the shield of the tablecloth, but my
fingers twitch and rise up to my hair, out of his reach.

He shoots me a glance, but I ignore it, so he spends the
better part of the next several minutes kissing up to my father and showering
my mothers with compliments galore.

My sister, Waverly, watches us from across the table with
stars in her eyes, staring like I’m lucky to have found someone our father
approved of.

If she only knew.

Halfway through dinner, I lose my appetite. It just up and
walked off, along with my attention span and my thoughts, which are one million
percent focused on my new job.

Well, Dane, if I’m being specific.

“Isn’t that right, Bellamy?” My father’s voice yanks me out
of my otherworldly daydream.

“Beg your pardon?” If I pretend I didn’t hear him, I might
be okay.

Cortland and my father exchange glances and share a light
chuckle together like they’re a couple of old pals bonding.

“Your father said as a child you were addicted to chocolate
ice cream. Said you wouldn’t do anything unless they bribed you with it,” my
khaki-outfitted suitor says.

“Oh. Yes. That’s right,” I exhale my words along with a
handful of relief. “As a small child, yes.”

Dad sits up and dabs his napkin across his mouth. “You two
have been courting now for, what, a couple of months?”

“Seven weeks,” Cortland says.

My mothers all grin and tilt their heads like he’s some
romantic dreamboat.

“I think it’s time you two spent a little one on one time
together,” Dad says. “Why don’t Jane and I run you down to the local ice cream
shop. We’ll keep our distance, but this will at least give you two a bit more
time to talk.”

Wonderful.

“That would be great, Mr. Miller,” Cortland says. “I’d love
that. Bellamy?”

“Can’t say no to that.” I force another smile and drop my
fork against my plate. This night needs to end. If I could blink and be in my
bed alone right now, that’d be amazing.

Aside from seeing him at Bible study each Wednesday,
Cortland comes over on Saturdays. He usually dotes on me for a little while and
then ends up helping my father with things around the house. After that we
finish the evening with a board game in the family room.

He hasn’t had an opportunity to touch me or kiss me or pin
me in weeks, and he wears the expression of a sexually frustrated man aching
for a chance to take me to bed and have his way with me once and for all.

That is, after all, his ultimate
goal.

That also explains his territory switch at work. He wants to
spend more time here. He wants to
fast-track
the
courtship.

“Shall we head out?” My father’s plate is empty, and he
motions for my mother to grab the keys to the car. “Cortland and Bellamy?”

Waverly, Kath, and
Summer
rise up,
clearing dishes and starting dinner clean up. I’d give anything to be washing
dishes right now.

***

The backseat of the car is dark, and Cortland’s hand
twitches on his knee. His stare is penetrating, and I’d give anything for my
father to turn around for a second and see the way he looks at me when he
doesn’t think anyone will notice.

My father pulls up to the ice cream emporium and shifts his
Buick into park. “All right. I’ll let you two skip ahead. It’ll be like we’re not
even here.”

Yeah.

Right.

He’ll be watching our every move like some crazy, stalker
dad.

Cortland walks me straight up to the cash register where he
orders a scoop of chocolate ice cream in a dish
for me and a
scoop of mint chocolate chip
for himself. He doesn’t even give me a
chance to browse the fifty other available flavors, and I hate that he ordered
for me.

He declines waffle bowls, which are only a fifty-cent
upcharge. I’m not sure if he’s cheap, or he doesn’t think I need the extra
calories. Either way, I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to eat ice cream,
and I don’t want to be with him.

“Here you are,” he hands me a pink spoon and a small dish of
chocolate ice cream. We find a spot in the corner, a little table for two with
two connected swivel chairs. The hard plastic is just as uncomfortable as the
turmoil boiling beneath my faux-façade. “Chocolate. Your favorite.”

Chocolate was my favorite when I was, like, five.

“Thank you.”

“This was kind of your father,” he says, using his skilled
tongue to lick green ice cream from his spoon. His tongue used to be pure
magic. Now it’s a dangerous weapon. “Maybe this’ll open up more opportunities
for us to hang out solo? Like really solo.”

I shake my head. “Never. He won’t allow that.”

“Psh.” Cortland scoffs, as if to say, “
I’ve got this. I can handle Mark Miller
.”

“You don’t know my father very well. He’s crazy protective
of his daughters’ virtues and the family reputation.”

I realize how utterly ridiculous I sound considering months
ago I had no problem hopping in the backseat of a car with a random guy from
church and doing everything
but
…

And the only reason I never had sex with Cortland was
because neither of us had condoms, and I’m not on the pill, and we weren’t
about to risk being seen trying to obtain such things.

I stare at deceptively handsome Cortland and can’t help but
wonder if he’d be relentlessly pursuing me if I’d given it up already.

He probably wants to screw me just as bad as I want freedom.

Only one of us will win.

“This is my way of protecting your virtue, Bellamy.”

“What are you talking about?”

The door jingles and we both crank our necks to see my
father walk in and head up to the counter. Mom is still out in the car. This
whole thing is bizarre. He doesn’t make eye contact with us, which I’m sure is
his warped way of doing us a favor by pretending we’re strangers.

He’s here, but he’s not.

We wait for my father to walk out with two banana splits
before another word is spoken.

“What were you saying a minute ago?” I refuse to drop it. I
want to know how the hell he thinks he’s protecting my virtue.

“Because you’re damaged goods.” He says it like he’s stating
a scientific fact.

I shove my spoon in the center of the melting mound of ice
cream in front of me and shove the cup away. “Excuse me?”

“Come on, Bellamy.” He cocks his head, flashing a perfect
smile. “You know what I mean. You’ve…you’ve been touched. You’ve done stuff.”

“Yeah. With you.”

“Yeah, but if another guy knew? I don’t think he’d be cool
with it. A guy might get the impression that you’re a loose girl.”

What is this,
the 1950s
?!

“What about you?” I cross my arms over my chest. “What does
that make you?”

His lips pucker as he stifles a laugh. “It’s different for
guys. You know that.”

I rise, unwilling to tolerate another minute across from
that imbecile.