5. Chapter 5 #2
Benji makes his way toward the exit, calling out, “Bye, boss,” before stepping into the elevator.
Henrik nods in his direction as the door closes, and then his head swings my way. “Do you have any allergies?”
“Uh, no. But I don’t like seafood,” I admit, abandoning my seat and walking closer. Henrik tracks me until I stop on the other side of the stovetop island from where he’s preparing food.
“Shame,” he says simply.
I glance at what he’s cooking, pasta with Italian sausage and red sauce, and even though it looks like quite a lot, I don’t want to assume he’s feeding me.
He made it clear I’ll be left to my own devices, and I assume that includes making my meals.
Although it’d be nice to have someone to share dinner with on a regular basis.
“What is it?” he asks.
My eyebrow pops up at how adept Henrik seems to be at reading silences. I’m about to dismiss his concern, but then I think about his rules, and I realize the man probably prefers honesty. Well, honesty and cleanliness.
“I wasn’t sure if I was invited for dinner or if I should make my own plans,” I say.
Henrik’s lips purse together, a furrow appearing in his brow as he turns off the burner. “If I’m home in time to cook dinner, I will always cook for two.”
Oh, wow. Okay. That’s nice.
I nod, belatedly realizing, once again, that he can’t see it. “Um, thank you.”
He hums, reaching into a cupboard for two plates, which he passes to me over the counter.
A moment later, he hands me two sets of silverware, and I take the items to the table, setting one at the head where I assume Henrik will sit.
There’s a holder with cloth napkins nearby, so I grab two and situate them beside our plates.
Henrik brings the pan of pasta over, cradling it in an oven mitt, and he feels out the trivet on the table before setting the hot dish down.
I smile a little when he takes his seat and reaches forward, finding his place setting in the correct spot. I guess I did it right.
He dishes up his food with practiced ease before holding the tongs out my way. For a few minutes, we eat in silence.
“This is really good,” I finally say. And it is. Better than anything I can cook.
He hums a little around his bite of food.
He does that a lot, I notice—hum. As if he prefers the efficiency of the sound over voicing a full response.
When Henrik’s fork leaves his mouth, a little red speck stays behind on his full bottom lip.
I look at that speck, overcome with the urge to lean across the table and lick it off.
What would Henrik taste like under the sauce?
Henrik’s chewing slows, and I bring my gaze up his face, just in time to catch his raised eyebrow. “Are you staring at me?”
Shit. Busted.
I clear my throat. “Yes.”
“Surprised I can feed myself?” he asks, his wry tone a clear sign of displeasure.
Jesus , what?
“No,” I rush out, not wanting him to think for even a second that I’m watching him like some sort of freak show. I lean forward and swipe the speck of sauce from his lip, licking it off my finger after. He doesn’t even flinch. “My eyes were on your lips.”
“My lips,” he repeats, frowning.
“There was a little sauce, and, well, you know. You have nice lips.” Smooth, Mal .
Henrik is silent for a moment, watching me in his own way. He makes a sound, almost like a grunt, and then he twists more pasta onto his fork and continues eating.
I follow his cue, even as my gut squirms. Did I say something wrong?
This situation is so far outside of what I’m used to. I’m not sure how to approach it. With all of my other escorting gigs, there was never any question of where the night would end. They order my services; I provide.
But this is different. I’m here for the long haul, and if I have any hope of lasting, I need to learn Henrik’s unspoken rules as well as his direct ones. And so far, I can’t quite get a grasp on this man or what he’s expecting of me.
“Are you finished?” Henrik asks, breaking our silence.
“Yeah,” I reply, grabbing my empty plate.
Henrik nods, and the pair of us clear the table. In the kitchen, he opens the dishwasher, and I set our plates and silverware inside. He washes our wine glasses, and after drying his hands, he goes to walk past me, out of the room.
“Henrik,” I say before he can get too far. When he stops, I go on. “Do you need me tonight?”
“No, Mal,” he replies, head turned slightly. “Get some sleep.”
With that, he walks off down the hall, leaving me to my own devices, more than a little confused.
“I’m sorry, hold up,” Alex says, waving his hand in the air. “You’re working as an escort?”
Alex’s wide, hazel eyes watch me in impressed incredulity as Dixon and Niko silently observe Alex’s line of questioning from atop the massive couches we’re sitting on in our break room at Elite 8 Studios. Although it won’t be my break room after I have a word with Jerome.
Niko and Dixon don’t seem to have any problem letting Alex perform the role of lead inquisitor, a position he’s more than comfortable in. Nosy, but well-intentioned; that’s Alex.
“Shh,” I remind him, even though a quick glance confirms no one else has wandered into the break room. “Yes, I’ve been escorting,” I say around a sigh. “Don’t tell Jerome.”
Alex’s brows furrow. “I don’t think that’s against the rules, assuming you’re following safe sex practices.”
“I am, but I still don’t think he’d like it.
Just, please? Don’t tell him,” I plead. I’m already worried enough about losing my job when I tell the boss-man I need time off.
I don’t want him finding out about the rest. It’s a slippery slope that could lead to the truth about camming and my money problems. My past. All of my lies.
“Fine,” Alex says softly. “I won’t. And you know I’m not judging you, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” I tell him. I never expected any of them would. We all have sex for money.
And honestly, it feels kind of good to get this off my chest. One less lie I’m hiding behind.
“Okay, so what’s so different about this new client?” Alex asks.
Dixon raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to explain what he already knows from our brief conversation on the phone.
I let out a long sigh. “I’ll be living in his penthouse for the next six months, and I can’t do porn while I’m there.”
Alex blinks a few times. “His penthouse.”
“Yes.”
“So this guy is loaded. And you’ll be his exclusive plaything,” Alex correctly observes.
“Yes.”
Alex bites his lip before an impish grin takes over his face. “He’s your sugar daddy.”
I groan, falling back against the couch as both Alex and Niko laugh their heads off. I knew they were going to give me crap about this arrangement. Dixon just stares at me with a shit-eating grin.
“It’s okay, boo,” Alex says around his laughter, leaning forward to pat my knee. “Everyone needs some sugar.”
“Alex,” I moan.
He holds up his hands and stands, leading me to believe he’s done razzing me. That is, until the chorus of “Pour Some Sugar on Me” comes out of that smartass mouth of his. Good grief .
I ignore my friend’s back as he walks toward the kitchenette, focusing my attention on Dixon instead. “Thank you for letting me live with you for the past few months,” I tell him seriously.
He shakes his head. “No thanks necessary, Mal. And you’re welcome back any time.”
Hopefully, I’ll be able to afford my own place after this, unless Henrik fires me before I can finish out our contract.
“Still. Thank you. And Niko, I’m sorry for being in the way. You’ll have your boyfriend all to yourself now.”
Niko wraps his arms over Dixon’s shoulders from his place on the armrest, but he, too, shakes his head at me. “You were never in the way, Mal. You feel good about this guy?”
“Yeah,” I breathe out. “I don’t get any creeper vibes, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Alex walks back over, cups in one hand and a bottle of apple juice in the other. “If you do, you let us know right away, Mal. I don’t care how much this guy is paying you. Your safety comes first.”
I nod, swallowing around the lump in my throat. I have some pretty great friends.
“Now,” Alex says, lining up four plastic cups on the coffee table and filling each with a shot of juice. “Here’s to Mal and his new, rich beau.”
I roll my eyes but pick up a drink.
“To open minds,” Dixon says, raising his cup in the air and exchanging a small smile with his boyfriend.
“To open hearts,” Niko adds, bouncing his eyebrows at Dixon.
“To open legs,” I mutter.
Alex titters at me, and we all say a cheer, downing our symbolic shots.
“Yum, you know what this tastes like?” Alex pops up onto his knees, shimmying in his chair as he starts to sing the lyrics to “Sugar, Sugar.”
I bow my head as Niko and Dixon renew their laughter. With a small smile on my face, I pour another round of apple juice.
This may not be how I saw my life progressing—and I’m definitely going to miss working alongside my coworkers at Elite 8 Studios—but maybe this new job will be the turning point that allows me to claw my way to some semblance of control.
Being a sugar baby, even though that’s never what Henrik referred to me as, won’t be so bad.
It’s barely even different from what I’m used to.
Who knows? Maybe it’ll be just what I need.
“To new opportunities.” I down my juice.