21. Chapter 21
Mal
“D oes this look all right?”
Henrik raises an eyebrow my way, and I curse.
“Crap, I’m sorry,” I say sincerely.
He looks nonplussed, stepping forward and proceeding to run his hands all over me, from my shoulders, down my lapels, to my hips. He brushes over the suit jacket fabric at my waist, as if wiping away nonexistent wrinkles, and then he steps back, hand on his chin as he nods.
“Hot.”
I laugh, even as my face flushes from embarrassment. “Sorry,” I mumble again.
Henrik shakes his head. “Benjamin said the color would suit you.”
“It does look nice,” I admit. The stylish gray suit Benji dropped off not only fits perfectly, but the steely tones make my eyes pop, even more so since my hair is pulled out of the way in a bun behind my head.
A simple white shirt completes my look, a piece of clothing that likely cost more than my entire personal wardrobe.
I try not to focus on the cost. Technically, I could have afforded the outfit I’m wearing tonight by myself now that my bank balance is sitting at a ridiculously high sum I never imagined I’d see.
But Henrik made it clear this was his treat.
And after a brief internal debate, I sucked up my pride and thanked him.
I am, after all, his sugar baby. His escort. I’m not his boyfriend or significant other. More like arm candy. And if Henrik needs to make that distinction clear by paying for the transaction of our night, I can respect that.
Even as it stings.
After fidgeting with my cufflinks for the tenth time, I turn to Henrik, who’s patiently waiting for me. “The paisley looks nice,” I say.
Henrik straightens. “What?”
“I didn’t think they still made suits in that print.”
I keep my lips pressed tightly together as Henrik frowns, feeling down his lapels as if he can detect the pattern there. But then his face clears.
“You’re fucking with me,” he states plainly.
“Busted,” I admit, laughing as Henrik strides forward.
He finds my arm and tugs me into his body.
Our chests collide as Henrik frames my jaw in his hands, angling up my face.
His lips are pursed, and he shakes his head, but then his mouth twists into the tiniest of smirks before smooth lips meet my own.
I go lax, absolutely melting as Henrik kisses me senseless, the onslaught feeling like the most welcome sort of payback.
I don’t even care that this blurs that whole escort-client line I was reminding myself of moments ago.
Because when Henrik’s lips are against mine, when he nuzzles into that space against my neck like he’s trying to inhale my scent, when he rubs me raw with his short stubble, as if trying to leave his own mark behind on my skin, I simply float away.
All those worries about money or what happens next or what this means stay behind on the cold hard ground, unable to reach me.
“Hen,” I groan, angling my head as he sucks against the skin of my neck. My fingers spasm into the fabric at his back, and I force my hands to relax, smoothing out any wrinkles. “We need to stop. You’re gonna leave a mark.”
“Don’t want to stop,” he grumbles, releasing my flesh and nuzzling his nose under my ear.
Fuck . He’s so goddamn tactile. I love it.
“We can pick this up later,” I force out. Before I come in my $4,000 pants .
Henrik sighs, his breath fanning over my skin. He doesn’t move for the longest time, and the position feels a lot like an embrace.
My heart skips frantically.
Finally, Henrik steps back, smoothing his hair into place. I help him out, enjoying the feel of the thick strands between my fingers.
“C’mon,” I say, giving him a little tug. Henrik follows after me as I head out of the guest room. “We should let the kittens free.”
I had shut them in the bathroom while Henrik and I were getting ready, not wanting fur all over the bottom of our pants. But as soon as I open the door, the kittens spring right against our legs anyway.
I sigh. “So much for that.”
“It’s fine,” Henrik says, always careful to step gently when the kittens are around. “I’ll have Benjamin grab a lint roller.”
I huff a laugh as I follow him toward the front of the penthouse. Henrik slips his wallet into his pants and grabs his cane, and I realize it’s the first time I’ll see him use it. The first time I’ll be out of this building with him, in fact. As his date.
My smile slips as my brain so helpfully reminds me it’s only a date for appearance’s sake.
This thing between Henrik and me isn’t real.
Yes, the past month has thrown us together in a way that makes the intimacy we share feel authentic.
As if we truly are two lovers building on something good. Building a relationship.
But sex doesn’t equal partnership. And living with Henrik doesn’t make me someone important to him. It’s only escalated my feelings for the man I see more frequently than any other person in my life at the moment.
But this will end. Whether some day soon or five months down the road, this will be over. I won’t be living here anymore, and Henrik will go back to being someone I never see. As if this didn’t happen at all. As if I was never here.
I can’t get used to being pampered and fawned over and having someone treat me like I…what, matter? Like they care?
Christ .
“Mal?” Henrik steps close, palm skating up my chest and resting against my neck. “Are you okay? Your breathing is labored.”
I force myself to relax. To count and focus on slowing my heart rate. After a moment, I nod, although my throat still feels tight and my chest is squeezed in an angry fist. “Fine.”
Henrik frowns. “Is this too much? We don’t have to go.”
“What?” I say before shaking my head. “No, it’s fine. I was just in my head.”
Henrik hums, his other hand coming up to smooth over my cheek. My breath rattles a little shakily as he leans close, his lips ghosting over my own. “When we get home, I’m going to help you relax.”
“Is that so?” I reply, laughing when Henrik bumps his nose against mine in an approximation of the type of kisses I’d see the girls and boys doing in school, when everything was simple and I was still a naive little kid who believed in tender happy-ever-afters.
I’m not sure what I believe in now, but I’m certainly not that kid anymore.
Henrik nods, drawing back, his green eyes bright and mischievous. “Mhm. I’ll lay you out on my bed, run my hands all over you until you’re boneless and unwound—”
“Mm.”
“—and then I’ll swallow your cock until you’re moaning my name,” he says, leaning close, his lips brushing my ear. “And after you come down my throat, I’ll paint your asscheeks and start the process all over again.”
I swallow roughly, my cock throbbing at the promise he’s giving. “Yeah. That sounds…fine.”
Henrik chuckles, stepping back and pressing the button to open the elevator doors. “Come on, Mal,” he says lightly when my feet stay rooted to the marble floor.
Shaking my head, I follow Henrik into the mirrored elevator. “Yes, Daddy,” I mumble, laughing when Henrik pulls me close and play growls. He wiggles his fingers against my ribs, and I gasp, flailing in his grip. “I take it back! Good God, I take it back.”
Henrik stops tickling me, but he doesn’t let go, and as I catch his reflection in the glass wall, seeing a small smile on his lips as he holds me tucked against his body, a hopeful little bird takes flight behind my ribs, battering to be let loose.
For one eternal moment in this tower of gleaming white, I forget about my worries, I forget about my past, and I simply breathe. It’s not so hard to do with Henrik’s arms holding me tight, keeping me from shattering.
When Henrik and I step out of his fancy-ass black limousine, Benji just behind, I freeze. There’s an actual red carpet and photographers ahead, already snapping pictures in our direction, the flashes blinding. Quickly, I paste on my most practiced smile, weaving my arm through Henrik’s.
He already coached me on how to guide him, so I do my best to ignore the photographers and walk us forward, stopping several steps behind the short line at the door.
People call for Henrik’s attention, but apart from turning his head and offering a close-lipped smile, he doesn’t react or answer questions.
I follow his cue, heart thumping wildly as we move slowly forward.
There are steps up to the entrance, and even though Henrik’s cane alerts him to their presence, I still lean close to let him know there are two.
At the top of the stairs, Henrik gives his name, and the attendant nods before letting the three of us through the doors, welcoming Henrik profusely and smiling wide.
Henrik told me a little about tonight’s benefit, but I didn’t understand how integral Henrik himself was to the proceedings until Benji explained it on the way over—how involved Henrik is in his business ventures and the success, specifically, of the incubators.
Henrik shook his head as Benji sang his praises, clearly not keen on being complimented, and yet, seeing the number of heads that turn as Henrik makes his way into the ballroom, I’m starting to realize exactly how big of a deal he is.
This is his company that he started from the ground up when he was in his twenties—before he was my age.
He’s made a name for himself in the Las Vegas business world, and until tonight, I didn’t understand the scope of that.
I didn’t understand exactly how many lives he’s changed, but seeing all the young entrepreneurs in attendance tonight, their gazes bright as they talk amongst themselves, I realize Henrik does more than shove money in people’s pockets. He makes dreams come true.
Maybe, to him, it is about cash. About success. But to these people, it’s their future. And after Benji told me avidly about the incentives for ventures designed for or by people with disabilities, I can’t help but feel like it’s about more than money to Henrik, too.