Chapter 12 #3
“We don’t trust each other.” I deny his words and stare at the ant-sized cars below me.
He’s watching me, I can feel it between my shoulder blades, but I don’t look.
“That’s stupid. We’re nothing to each other.
I’m gonna be long gone before you know it, and we’ll both move on and forget each other.
No trust needed. I’ve dealt with plenty of people and didn’t trust them as far as I could throw them, but I still got what I needed from them, and they got what they wanted from me.
Stop bullshitting me. Trust has nothing to do with business.
People just use each other, trade one thing for another, and that’s all there is to it. ”
His silences are always heavy, always full of pressure and meaning, and this one is no different.
I fist my hands at my sides and finally whirl to glare at him.
He looks… thoughtful. Like he’s trying to puzzle something out.
And suddenly I realize that he knows about my time as a prostitute, he knows because Joshy just outed me, and I just made some vague statements about my time as a whore, and he knows.
I hadn’t meant to bare my soul like that, to even imply that I have any kind of baggage about it, but he draws these things out of me without even trying and that pisses me off.
“What?” I grit my teeth. “Spit it out. Say what you want to say.”
My tone is combative, but instead of snapping at me or lashing out, he just settles in his chair and beckons me closer. “Come here, Tommy.”
“Fuck you.”
Those eyebrows of his raise, and he slowly reaches forward and taps the desk in front of him: two taps, a clear command.
I want to argue some more, or ignore him. I want to make him angry, but curiosity is a weakness of mine, so I stomp over there. “What?”
He just taps his desk again. I frown in confusion, but he’s waiting me out.
I hate that. But I must not hate it that much because I finally get it and put my palms back on the desk, and lean over it just like I was before.
His desk is massive, a gargantuan monster, so it’s not like I’m only an inch away from him or anything, but we’re certainly closer now, our faces almost level.
“What?” I ask again, but even I can tell that my tone is decidedly less angry and more cautious, curious, maybe even… sullen and pouty. Pathetic. Needy.
With a long, slow movement, one I can see coming and could dodge if I want to, he reaches up and takes my chin and jaw into his hand, just like he did on the plane.
He tilts my head down this time, since he’s sitting, but it feels no less overpowering and controlling to be the one above him when he can so easily move my face the way he wants.
Leaning over the desk like this I suddenly feel very vulnerable and off balance and small…
and I don’t hate it, even though I want to.
“This isn’t just a transaction, Tommy. This is a contract.
Long-term, committed, and involving my very important and only niece.
” His deep voice soothes me and riles me up at the same time and my breathing gets choppier.
“There’s a difference between what you used to do, and what we’re doing now. You know that.”
“I’m bought and paid for,” I manage to get out, my face feeling hot. “That’s all there is to it. I’ve sold myself before, and I did again to Kira, and now to you. That’s all this is. It’s no different.”
He’s so hard to read. I can’t ever tell if my stubbornness makes him angry or amused, or maybe both. Either way, his eyes flash with something I can’t decipher before he continues.
“In the car, you mentioned that my warning about soap in your mouth wasn’t valid because I said it in the jet, and we aren’t on the jet anymore.
” He’s being casual, almost idly chatting as he runs his thumb over my bottom lip like he’s picturing putting a bar of soap on my tongue right now.
A blast of heat travels through my whole body at the silent promise and the heated touch.
“But I promise you that it doesn’t matter where we are.
If you lie to me, or to yourself, I’m going to call you on it.
You said you’d behave, Tommy. So be good. Tell me the truth.”
Holy shit.
I’m struggling to breathe; my lungs are shaky as lust and helplessness and fear and a terrifying giddiness floods my system and short-circuits my brain. I swallow hard, and I know he feels it with the hand holding my jaw.
“I… I don’t… I…” I shake my head slightly, but not enough to dislodge his hold.
I don’t want him to let me go. Then, abruptly, I realize what I’m doing and yank myself backward.
I stare at him like he’s a psycho killer about to plunge a blade into my heart, and he looks at me–his hand still holding the air like he’s inviting me to rest my chin there again–like he always does.
With an awkward laugh, I brush my shirt off like I got something on it and shrug. “Yeah, whatever you say.”
He drops his hand and lets me retreat so I can compose myself at the table Yosef brought in for me.
I steal a glance at him and catch his gaze running down my frame and back up again, and I wonder why he studies me so closely.
Before I can be a brat about it and let my defensiveness translate into rudeness and bad behavior, Yosef returns.
I slouch in my chair casually. Yeah, nothing to see here. Just me, definitely not getting brat-tamed.
I say a soft ‘thanks’ when Yosef places a notepad and some pens in front of me, along with a couple magazines and someone’s unfinished sudoku puzzle. I wonder if he yanked it right out of their hands.
Young-gi’s laptop chimes and he pulls out some headphones, but spares a moment to say, “be good.”
I mutter and grumble but eventually nod, and he nods back like we’re equals making an important agreement and not just a washed-up rent boy and his rich buyer.
Picking up the pens, I fiddle with them, my eyes running over Young-gi as he starts his virtual meeting. I find myself putting the nib to the paper before consciously deciding to do so, and before I know it, I’m making my first mark.