Chapter 7 Allie
ALLIE
“Don’t.” I hold a finger up to Nate’s mouth as he opens it to speak. “I’m not in the mood.”
For once in his life, he actually listens and snaps his mouth shut, but he clearly has something he wants to say. I can see it in the depths of those swirling gray eyes.
“Okay, what?” I relent.
“I was just going to say that I need to get back to work. I don’t think my dad will appreciate it if he finds out I left to be your personal trainer all morning.” He finishes racking the weights and grabs a fresh towel to wipe his forehead.
“Thanks, Nate. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime.” He flashes a rare smile. “I’m gonna shower and take off. You’re welcome to use the shower in your—in the guest room.”
“I will, thanks.”
Nate throws his towel in a wicker basket by the weights and goes to leave, but he stops and taps his fingers on the side of the wall. “Oh, one more thing.”
“Yeah?” I look up at him. He’s so damn tall. I wouldn’t consider myself short, but I feel like a child whenever I stand next to him.
“What the hell was that?”
There it is. I knew he wouldn’t let me get off that easy.
“Ughh,” I groan. “I thought you were going to let it go!”
“Yeah, fat chance,” he retorts.
“Well, I don’t know what you want me to say. He’s obviously an asshole. Did you hear the way he spoke to me?”
“Like he’s your boss?” Nate’s brows furrow slightly, his eyes set in stone. It’s his I mean business glare, but it’s not going to work on me. I already have one man who thinks he can order me to do his bidding. I do not need another.
“Wipe that look off your face, Caldwell.”
He attempts to school his features, but a hint of concern remains. “Just be careful, Allie. Getting involved with your boss…”
“First of all, I’m not getting involved with anyone. Secondly, it’s none of your business who I do or do not get involved with anyway.”
Nate sighs and comes closer, resting his hand gently on my back.
“Look, I know you can handle yourself. I’m honestly more concerned for Ashton than anyone else.
I don’t know what went on with you two a few months ago, but I do know you’ve been avoiding him since the gala, and now you have to be around him every day. Be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I always am.” I try to sound convincing, but I’m not sure it comes across.
Nate gives me a brisk nod as he turns to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Tomorrow night? Oh, shit. I completely forgot about Luke’s belated New Year’s party. Em had to work double shifts at the hospital for the first week of January and had to miss out on all the parties, so Luke is hosting one for her tomorrow at her father’s house.
“He’s going to be there, isn’t he?” I whine.
“Considering he’s one of Emory’s best friends? I would think so.” He looks me up and down before he steps out, closing the door behind him.
Great. Just what I need after this hellish week and waking up to gut-wrenching pain.
I have to hand it to Ashton. He didn’t get all weird when I mentioned my period like some guys would have.
Still, telling him about my pain made me vulnerable.
Just because he didn’t use it against me today doesn’t mean he can’t in the future.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching my mother, it’s that you don’t give people ammunition to make your life miserable unless you’re willing to deal with the consequences.
As if she could hear my thoughts from miles away, my phone lights up with a text from her.
Mom: How’s the new job?
It’s good. I should be able to start helping with the rent in a few weeks.
Mom: That’s not why I asked, sweet pea. I’m managing.
I know you are. Gotta run, but I’ll come over soon.
Mom: I’m holding you to that.
I look back over the conversation, taking note of all the lies woven within the letters like a braid.
Hers and mine.
Like mother, like daughter.
The only thing left to do now is take a shower and hunker down with a heating pad and my laptop for the rest of the day.
Twenty-four hours and a couple of pints of mint chocolate chip ice cream later, I’m sitting on a chaise lounge in the dimly lit library of Brian Caldwell’s mansion, sipping a tequila soda and watching Emory and Luke across the room.
He whispers in her ear, and she giggles and blushes, playfully swatting his hand away.
String lights twinkle along the mahogany bookshelves, and the soft glow of the crystal chandelier hanging above them catches on the gold-lettered spines.
Emory resisted having a whole party just because she missed New Year’s Eve, but Luke finally convinced her, saying he would make sure it was intimate.
True to his word, he only invited a handful of people and made sure it was in the library, Em’s favorite place, rather than the grand room where her dad’s summer gala is normally held.
My heart sinks at the thought of the gala.
The gazebo. Emory’s ex. The lies.
Ashton comforting me.
I let him comfort me.
Luke bends down and whispers something in Emory’s ear again, and her eyes go wide.
She looks up at him with puppy-dog eyes and tugs at his sleeve, but he shakes his head.
She narrows her eyes with a bratty look on her face as she crosses her arms. Luke chuckles as he nuzzles just behind her ear, and she softens, melting into him.
“Get a room,” I mutter to myself, taking another sip of my drink. I love those two fools, but the sight of their unbridled love is not doing it for me tonight.
“She likes to wait,” a voice says above me, and I startle to the point that I almost spill my drink.
I’m expecting to see Ashton’s annoyingly perfect, smug face when I look up, but it’s not him.
The man standing in front of me is around the same height as Ashton, but that’s where the similarities end.
He looks like he just stepped out of an alternative rock music video.
His tousled dirty blonde hair is flipped off to one side, revealing the dark roots beneath it.
He has thick black studs in both ears and a silver ring hanging off the cartilage of his left.
Swirling ebony roses rise up from his chest, encircling the side of his neck.
The shadows from the nearby fireplace dance along the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jawline, creating a jagged halo behind him.
His lips form a straight line as his deep brown, almost-black eyes stare intensely.
That’s when I notice his lip ring glistening in the light. I recognize that lip ring.
Declan Astor. None other than Ashton’s best friend.
Okay, so I may have done an even deeper social media dive on him last night than the one I performed over the summer.
I may have also gone so far back that I saw pictures of him, Skylar, and Declan from high school.
He looks a little different from the dark-haired, dimpled boy in the pictures, but it’s definitely him.
Same chiseled jawline. Same midnight eyes.
“Wait?” I question as he nods to the seat beside me. I scooch over and move my purse to the other side of the lounge.
“She likes to have to wait for it.” His voice is neutral, almost bored, despite the fact that he was the one who started this conversation. “And he likes to make her wait.”
Understanding takes over, and I can’t help but smirk. Who the hell does this guy think he is?
“What are you, some kind of kink whisperer?”
“Nah. I can read people. It’s one of my many talents.”
“I see.”
“Want to know what yours is?” He leans forward at an angle and lowers his voice to a near whisper.
“My talent?”
“Your kink.”
“Sure, why not,” I say, knocking back the rest of my drink. Something tells me I’m going to need a buzz for this.
“Easy,” he says with confidence even I couldn’t muster on my best day. “You like control.”
I scoff. “Lucky guess.”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“Maybe you didn’t deserve to finish.”
“Exactly.” Completely unfazed by my dig, he pretends to study my eyes for a moment. “You’re the humiliation type, aren't you? You get off on making men fall at your feet, begging and desperate. Making them feel helpless.”
He says it so matter-of-factly, like he’s guessing my favorite color. I’m glad I already finished my drink because I would have spit it out all over him if I had just taken a sip.
I snort out a low laugh. “Are you saying I’m a Daddy Dom?”
“I’m pretty sure it would be Mommy Dom in your case,” he corrects, arching an eyebrow.
I narrow my eyes. “That’s where you’re wrong. Daddy is a vibe. It doesn’t correspond to a gender.”
“Whatever. You already knew all this. Want to know the part you keep a secret, even from yourself?”
“You’re going to tell me anyway, so might as well get it over with,” I sigh.
“You want all those same things done to you. You want to be controlled and degraded. You want to be told what to do.”
My stomach sinks like I’ve just been caught by a teacher looking at someone else’s answers during a test. How the fuck does he know that?
I’ve never told anyone. I’ve barely admitted it to myself.
I’m not ashamed of my sexuality. I enjoy sex and I won’t apologize for having a lot of it.
This is different, though. Growing up watching my mother in controlling relationships, hearing the vile things her boyfriends would say to her, I promised myself I would never let a man treat me like that.
So instead, I became the one who needed complete control.
It’s true, I get off on seeing men submit to me.
But maybe there is a small part of me that wants it the other way around. Either way, I’m sure I need therapy.
“Your silence tells me I hit the nail on the head.” Declan’s raspy voice drags me from my thoughts.
I cross my legs and avoid his comment, not willing to give him the confirmation he wants. “So this is what you do?” I scoff. “Sit around judging people’s sex lives?”