23. Chapter 23 #2
I shouldn’t be surprised, considering Henrik is the same way—keenly observant and courteous—but I appreciate it nonetheless.
I’m not used to people noticing me in that way.
Apart from Dixon, Alex, and Niko, I don’t have acquaintances in my life who even bother to try.
Well, there’s Henrik, but that’s temporary.
When I catch Alma’s eye, mouthing a thank you , she simply winks and retakes her seat.
“So, Mal,” Sigrid says. “That sure is a unique name. Is it short for something? Mallory, perhaps? Or Malcolm?”
“Oh, uh.” My mind spins, trying to think over any potential ramifications of revealing the truth, but I sincerely doubt any of Henrik’s family would know about my adult films. And, at this point, I’m confident Henrik wouldn’t be upset over Benji finding out, assuming he doesn’t already know.
He shares nearly everything with his personal assistant and trusts Benji to keep his confidence.
In the end, after only a second’s hesitation, I admit, “It’s short for Malibu. ”
“Is it?” Henrik asks, brows furrowing as he sets down his wine glass.
I turn to him in surprise, opening my mouth but saying nothing. Surely he knew as much from my file? A quick glance at Benji shows him just as confused, but his befuddled expression isn’t aimed at me. It’s aimed at Henrik.
“Um, yeah,” I say, realizing Henrik must be playing dumb for his family’s benefit. I can’t fathom why, but I relax having come to that conclusion.
“Oh, your mother must’ve loved the city to name you after it,” Sigrid assumes. I don’t bother correcting her. “That’s lovely.”
I hum noncommittally. This time, when I glance Benji’s way, he’s watching me with a carefully neutral expression.
Yet I’m more than certain now—he knows who I am.
He wouldn’t have been surprised at Henrik’s feigned ignorance earlier otherwise.
I wonder how long he’s been aware. Perhaps Henrik told him.
Either way, I dismiss my concern, grateful when Alma moves the topic onto this weekend.
It’s after ten at night when Henrik’s family finally leaves, Benji having gone home an hour earlier.
I enjoyed their company more than I thought I would, considering my initial nerves.
And truth be told, I’m looking forward to spending more time with them this weekend.
If nothing else, maybe I’ll gain a little more insight into Henrik himself.
When the elevator shuts, ushering Henrik’s family downstairs to the waiting town car, I grab the remaining glasses and bring them to the sink. Henrik glides up behind me at the counter, his hands smoothing around my hips to rest on my stomach.
He notches his chin over my shoulder. “Leave them,” he says gently. “I’ll take care of the dishes tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I acquiesce easily, leaning back against the comfort of Henrik’s broad body. He turns his head, nuzzling into my neck as goosebumps race over my skin.
“Are you okay?” he asks gently, face in my hair.
I nod slightly, realizing it’s true. “Yeah, I really am. I liked them.”
“I’m glad,” he says, his hands trailing lower. My breath hitches as his fingers slip under the hem of my shirt, teasing along my waistband. “I’m also glad they’re gone.”
“Yeah?” I ask, my cock filling as Henrik traces little circles against my skin.
“Mm. Come to bed with me?”
“You don’t have to ask,” I say, turning in Henrik’s arms and catching his hands, slipping them behind me. Henrik takes my cue and slides them lower, over my ass.
“I do,” he replies, running his lips over my jaw. “I don’t own you, Mal.”
I gasp lightly as he bites the side of my jaw, tempted to argue his point.
Not because he’s paying me, although that is true.
But because I know, in a way, Henrik does own me.
He has since the beginning. Since the moment I sat on his couch and told him my name, he’s owned a part of me no one else has.
He’s seen me in a way no one else has. And even though I told myself I wouldn’t let my heart get involved, it’s much too late for that.
To Henrik, I may simply be his escort. And in less than five months’ time, he’ll send me on my way without another thought.
But maybe not. Maybe I could change his mind. Maybe I could show him what the possibility of us would look like. Maybe the story we told his family tonight wouldn’t have to be a lie.
I’m tired of lies.
I want Henrik. I may not be able to have him, the real him outside the bounds of our contract, but I’m gaining the courage to try. Maybe that makes me foolhardy or naive. And perhaps I’ll be crushed.
But I’ve come to realize I’m never on around Henrik. I never have to pretend. I don’t know why that is, why he’s different, but I’m not ready to let go of the freedom I’ve found with him.
He makes me feel safe. He makes me feel wanted. He makes me feel like I’m worth something.
Just me.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing one of Henrik’s hands from where it was wandering over my ass. “Bedroom.”
Henrik follows me without a word. As I step into his room, turning on the light, he’s beside me.
As I unbutton his shirt, revealing his chest and stomach slowly, he waits.
And once he’s naked and I strip my own clothes off my body, Henrik’s hands begin to wander.
They slide over my skin, caressing, exploring, igniting.
And when Henrik lays me out on his bed, pushing my knees wide and swallowing my dick, it doesn’t matter how we started. It doesn’t matter that, when we’re done here tonight, I’ll retreat to the guest room like normal.
Escort. Porn star. Camboy. Malibu .
None of that matters. Because, for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m finding a piece of myself in Henrik’s arms.
The past falls away. The future lies ahead. And I’m desperate to write the story I deserve.
One that, hopefully, includes this man.