Promiscuous Lies (Vengeful Lies #2)

39. Dutton

CHAPTER 39

Dutton

“ H ey, boss. Posie is in your office if you’re looking for her,” Mike mentions as he walks past me.

What the fuck is she doing here? I told her she didn’t need to come in anymore and she could do everything from home. She’s mostly been doing that for the last month anyway.

“Dutton?” I stop as Paula steps in my way.

“Is she dancing tonight?” I ask curtly.

Paula looks at me, confused. “No, I think she’s just picking up a few things. But I do need to talk to you about hiring someone to replace her. The girls are a little strained.”

“I trust your judgment, Paula. I have also emailed the payroll company about your pay raise.”

“Pay raise?” she asks, surprised.

“Yes. You work hard and, in return, deserve more.” That, and I know she holds a soft spot for Posie, not that I’d admit it.

She nods like she can’t believe it as I step past her.

I couldn’t sleep last night, not after the discussion I had with Posie about her ex. I know she thinks I don’t understand because I’m not a family man, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have the urgency to protect what’s mine. And for better or for worse, perhaps both of us have been hiding behind promiscuous lies. We’ve been hiding behind the act of sex instead of confronting an obvious truth. At least, I hope she feels the same way about me that I do her.

I don’t want her with anyone else. And I pray to God she feels the same way because there’s no way I’m willing to hand her over. And if she tries to leave me, I’ll punish her. But I can sense the wall she’s put up between us, and I know it’s because of her son. They come as a package. And if I want Posie, I have to show her I’m willing to accept all of her.

Opening my office door, I find her putting things into her bag. She looks up at me as I enter. I shut the door behind me.

“Hey. I’m just finishing up so you can have your desk back.”

“I don’t want my desk back,” I reply. “Where is Bentley?”

“He’s with the sitter. I had to come in to do a few things.”

I lick my lips. I wasn’t expecting to have this conversation so soon, but I’ve never been a man to pull any punches.

“Do you have time for dinner?” I ask.

When I think she’s about to immediately shut me down, she glances at the wall clock and then nods.

“I can do dinner, or we can go back to your place for a little fun. But I have to be back home in a few hours.”

“Then we’ll get dinner,” I say, reaching for her. I tug her to me by the hip, and she raises an inquisitive brow at my choice of dinner over dessert.

“You always grab me. Are you afraid I’ll run?” she says, sliding her arms around my neck.

“Well, you seem to have the tendency to run away from me before I wake up.”

She smirks. “I don’t run. I have a son to return to. There’s a difference.”

“Who you didn’t tell me about, might I add,” I purr as I dip my head and kiss her soft lips.

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Mr. Taylor. Now, are you taking me for dinner or trying to seduce me?”

I clench my jaw, my cock already semi-hard. I just can’t keep my hands off this woman. But tonight, I have to at least until after dinner.

“Let’s go. I want to discuss something with you,” I say as I grab her hand and pull her toward the exit.

We go to a local restaurant, so we’re not too far from the club and her car, and it won’t take her long to drive home.

“Is it true you used to mainly ride your motorcycle, but now always drive your car?” she asks curiously.

“Who told you that?”

“Paula.”

“Maybe I should rethink her raise,” I grumble under my breath. She laughs as the hostess leads us to a table in a secluded corner.

I’d fallen into the habit of driving my car when stopping by my establishments. I didn’t, however, expect to spend so much time at Pearl. But my curiosity was piqued by this little blonde monster. And I continued driving the car because it had more room. Now, I have a booster seat permanently in the back for her son.

We order meals and a bottle of red wine. She talks about the ideas she has for the social media accounts, and I listen, agreeing with her on most things. How could I not? I’ve never seen this side of Posie before. She enjoys her work, I realize. She’s so passionate about it.

When they place our meals down, I take a sip of the wine, watching her silently as she looks at her plate with anticipation. I’ve come to learn she really enjoys food. I figured this out because the meals I send her are the only gifts she’s never thrown away. And I now know to ensure that nothing I send has nuts.

The conversation I had with my father a few days ago has been swirling in my mind, and I’ve come to a decision.

“Posie.” She looks up at me as she takes her first bite.

I pause for a moment to admire her. She’s dressed in all black, and her hair is tied back in a low braid. God, she’s beautiful. “I think we should get married.”

She chokes on her food, and I worriedly push her glass of wine toward her. She finally swallows, then sputters, “S-sorry, what?”

“You and me. Married.”

“Yeah, that’s a no.” She shakes her head in bafflement.

“Why not?”

She stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. She puts her cutlery down, saying, “Because unlike you, Dutton, I want marriage and take it seriously. I want to marry a man who will put me and my son above all else. A man who will love me for all my flaws, and believe me, I have a lot. And I want a big gesture, not just some random thought that we should get married.” She pauses. “Why do you want to marry me?”

“My father suggested it,” I begin.

She laughs, and I’m startled that the thought of marrying someone like me is so hilarious to her. I’m not surprised, but I still don’t like hearing her favorite word—no.

“That’s the shittiest reason for marriage I’ve ever heard,” she says, shaking her head. “So, no. We aren’t even dating. And, to be honest, I don’t know what we are, but I think you shouldn’t strain yourself with the idea of marriage because your father suggested it.”

“We can be whatever you want us to be,” I remind her.

“Okay, well, you can be my boy toy.”

“Boy toy?” I raise a brow at her.

“Yes. When I want someone to fuck me to help clear my head, I’ll call you.” She smiles.

I frown. “I do that already.”

“Yes, and you do it very well. It’s why you’ve been promoted from boss to boy toy. Now, let’s eat so we can fuck in your car before I have to get back to my son.” I go to speak, and she holds up her hand. “If you ask me to marry you again, I won’t fuck you.” I close my mouth, realizing I’ve been shot down.

I hate the idea of marriage, so why the fuck did I just ask her to marry me? It goes without saying that I want to protect her and her son, but she might throw her drink in my face if I mention Bentley.

She continues talking about work, and I’m reeling at the sinking feeling in my stomach that I’m of no more value to her than a vibrator. And I don’t know how to communicate what I feel to her because I’m unsure if she feels the same. And if I do tell her, will she push me away?

I remember my father’s words, suggesting I might have to be ready to walk away. But that option is unfathomable to me.