“Careful … you might go broke,” I tease him.
“One more thing.”
Lawrence lets go of me before he walks to the nightstand. Puzzled, I watch him retrieve a piece of paper resting on the smooth wood surface then make his way back to me.
He hands me an envelope. “Here.”
I raise an eyebrow as I take the envelope and open it. My eyes immediately land on a black credit card with my name on it. There’s one thing that every self-proclaimed gold digger knows and that is that the small black plastic card in my hands is the Bible of credit cards. It has no limit and only the very wealthy have access to it. I mean, you could pretty much charge a Ferrari on it and no one would bat an eyelash.
I look up, our eyes meeting.
“Have I finally managed to leave you speechless?” he asks, laughter in his voice.
“You bet.”
“Go to Bergdorf’s and buy yourself a whole new wardrobe. Shoes, bags … whatever you want. I don’t want to see you wearing clothes that other men have paid for, or have had the pleasure of seeing you wearing it before me. Understood?”
“Are you sure? That’s going to be a lot of money, Lawrence. I have very expensive taste, you know.”
He leans down and kisses me on the mouth. The kiss is quick but still manages to take my breath away in its intensity. “I’m sure. Don’t worry about the price or how much it is. I can afford it, Blaire.”
I raise my hand in salute, teasing him. “Aye aye, Captain.”
He surprises me by spanking me on the ass, a playful glimmer in his eye. “Another thing.” He fiddles with the waistband of my thong.
“Yes?”
“When you’re in my bed, I want you naked. You, me, and nothing else, so don’t bother wearing these silly things in the future. There’s no point. Got it?”
Have you ever watched the flame of a candle burn? The flicker twirling fluidly as it dances in the air without restraint, its beauty hypnotizing. You can’t look away. You don’t want to. That’s how I feel at this moment as Lawrence and I stare at each other. His eyes draw me in, searing through me and leaving a trail of heat behind.
My mouth dry, I nod. “Am I going to see you tonight?”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize that I want to see him again.
Lawrence shakes his head. “Not tonight. I have a … business dinner of sorts that I can’t miss. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
I shrug my shoulder, pretending that his refusal doesn’t sting, that I didn’t sense a lie underneath his excuse. “Okay … can I ask you a question before you leave?”
“Yes.”
“Are we exclusive or can we see other people when we’re not together? Not that I plan to, of course, but I’d like to know where things stand,” I say, thinking of Walker and how he blindsided me.
“Blaire, we’re fucking, and hopefully having a great time together. Whatever you choose to do on your free time doesn’t concern me, and vice versa.”
After we kiss goodbye, I make my way to the bathroom. I should take a shower, but without Lawrence here I feel like the intruder that I am and just want to go home. I’m brushing my teeth with the new toothbrush Lawrence’s cleaning lady left for me when my eyes land on the necklace. It reminds me of the conversation we had after having sex for the first time …
We’re naked and lounging drowsily on his bed, sharing a glass of red wine when he asks me, “Have you always slept with men for money?”
“Yes and no. I’m usually in relationships with them. Some last longer than others. Walker, the guy you saw me with at the Met the night I met you, was probably my longest one.”
“Do you need the money? Debts? Is that why you do it?”
“Not really. I just like it.” I smile as I let my palms caress the cool softness of the silk covering the mattress.
“I see. No noble cause for fucking men like me, and selling your body,” he says wryly.
“Nope. I let you fuck me because I like how much you pay me.”
Lawrence places the wine glass on the table before he turns to kiss my chin. He slaps my ass playfully, then sits up with his back reclined against the headboard.
“Then let’s get my money’s worth.”
I stretch myself as though I were a cat and watch him out of the corner of my eye as he begins to stroke his cock with his hand. Getting on my knees, I straddle him as both of us watch his erection enter me slowly … the way the head opens me to his invasion … the penetration made easy by the mixture of new and old arousal from my body. I lean forward and hold onto the headboard as he fills me completely and say breathlessly, “Yeah, let’s.”
Once I rinse my mouth, I look at myself in the mirror. All I see is an ambitious girl with almond-shaped blue eyes and midnight hair who is willing to give up just about anything to achieve her goals.
I wonder how far is she willing to go to achieve them.
But what are those? Happiness? Wealth?
As I continue to stare at my reflection, I wonder if I even know what I’m chasing after anymore. I look so lost. The bitch inside me tells me that I may look lost but satisfied, and to check out the place. It’s huge, even for a townhouse. She also tells me that Ronan would never be able to give me any of this, so to stop playing the smallest maudlin violin in the world and get on with it. I feel like crying, but the tears won’t fall, and that’s all right. Because even if it were possible for me to do so, my tears shouldn’t be allowed. Tears are for people who are sorry for their actions.
And I’m not.
Life is a show where my soul is naked, but I’m covered in lies.
And I’m okay with that because, in life, only the fittest survive.
Lawrence offered me the service of one of his chauffeurs to drive me home, but I declined politely. I want some time alone to clear my head after everything that has happened in the past twenty-four hours, and the last thing I need is someone to look at me with judgment pouring out of their eyes because they know I’ve just spent the night having sex with their boss. Not that I think Tony would judge me, or that I would normally care, but I’m just not feeling up for it.
Riding the elevator to my floor, I can’t wait to get to my apartment so I can get out of my clothes and take a long hot shower. Maybe relax by reading a book, or take a much-needed nap. But the moment I step out of the elevator, I know that isn’t possible.
Ronan is sitting with his back against my door, waiting for me. As our eyes connect, I know it’s time to face the music.
When I begin walking toward him, Ronan stands up from his place on the floor and turns to face me. My heart beats angrily against my chest, but I disregard my body’s response to him; the way my fingers itch to tame the familiar wild golden brown hair that frames his boyishly handsome face. Mind over matter, Blaire. Mind over matter. Yet, as I close the space between us, I feel as though I can’t breathe because of the pain gathering in the center of my chest.
“So that’s it, huh? Not even an explanation as to why we’re done. Just a fucking text?”
I cross my arms and lift my chin in challenge. “I thought it was best. I hate theatrics such as this.”
“No, that isn’t it, Blaire, and you know it. I got too close, made you feel something real for once, and so the first chance you got, you ran.”