Chapter 10
Riley
“No, oh no, oh please, Marvin. Don’t do this to me now.” I squeezed the steering wheel tight as Marvin hitched and wheezed and groaned before backfiring. A huge plume of black smoke erupted from the tailpipe, and Marvin died with another quiet groan.
I steered to the side of the road and shut off the car before, praying under my breath, I turned the key. Nothing happened, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Fuck. Come on, Marvin. I know you’re tired, and I know it’s cold, and I fucking get that, I do, but please, buddy, you need to start, okay? Please, for me?”
I held my breath and turned the key again. Marvin chugged, gasped, and whined before falling silent.
“Fuck!” I screamed, banging my hands on the steering wheel so hard that pain shot straight up to my elbows. I grimaced and rubbed at my hands as I studied my phone. Mr. Rainer had given me a last-minute job, and I’d worked so late that I hadn’t had time to go home to change or grab a quick bite. The stressful day, crying, and lack of food had left me with a raging headache.
I rubbed my temples, trying to think past the throbbing pain. I didn’t have enough money for an Uber, and even if I did, they wouldn’t make it out here in time to get me to Mr. Steele’s house for seven. There was a bus stop back on the main road, but that was at least an hour’s walk away, and I hadn’t seen a single bus stop on the road leading to Mr. Steele’s house anyway.
Obviously, I didn’t have Mr. Steele’s number, but I could text the sisters and let them know I had to cancel.
I rubbed again at my aching temples. If I cancelled, I’d lose my payment tonight, and maybe Mr. Steele would be so annoyed by the last-minute cancellation that he’d find someone else at the agency to play with. If Marvin were even fixable, I would need every extra bit of money I could find. I hated to use the money from the agency for something other than my mom’s treatments, but I didn’t have much choice.
I glanced at the time again. I wasn’t that far from Mr. Steele’s house. If I booked it, I could make it by seven. Maybe.
It’s freezing out, and you’re wearing a skirt, and you didn’t bring mittens or a scarf or anything.
That was true, but walking fast would keep me warm, and I at least had my winter boots in the car, right? If I had to walk through the snow and the ice in my heels, I definitely wouldn’t make it on time.
How will you get home after your play session is over? It’ll be really dark by then and even colder. Even if you can walk to the bus stop without freezing to death, what if the bus has stopped running for the night?
That was a problem for later Riley. Right now, I needed to get my ass moving to Mr. Steele’s house.
You’re fooling yourself if you think you won’t be late. He’ll be so mad at you. He hates tardiness, remember?
I muttered a curse, stuffed my phone into my purse, and slid out of the car. I slung my purse over my shoulder and zipped my jacket up, tucking my face inside my collar. The cold air bit at my nose and ears, and I pulled the hood up, tugging the strings tight. My winter jacket was a thin, cheap thing I’d picked up at Walmart a couple of months ago. I used to have a nicer one. In fact, I’d had a whole closet full of nice clothing, but I’d sold most of them as my savings had begun to dwindle. I’d kept a bit of the expensive stuff for work, but any clothing and household items I could sell, I’d done so, sending the extra money to my parents to help cover their living costs.
Stuffing my heels into my purse, I slammed the car door and hauled ass toward Mr. Steele’s house.
* * *
Deacon
Charlotte was late.Despite how clear I’d been about my disapproval of tardiness, Charlotte was nearly fifteen minutes late. I paced in my office, my annoyance growing steadily higher. After a supremely shitty three days at my new job, I’d been looking forward to tonight, and Charlotte had ruined it with her carelessness. Now I wouldn’t get to hear her sexy voice moaning my name, taste the sweetness of her pussy, or -
The front door opened and then shut with a bang. I sat down with a thump behind my desk, staring stone-faced at my laptop as I heard Charlotte run up the stairs. She didn’t make her usual stop at the bathroom, just hurried down the hall and into my office. I could hear her panting, hear the thump as she dropped to her knees on the cushion, and smell cold snow in the air, but I refused to look at her.
I waited two minutes before saying, “You’re late.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Steele.” She was out of breath. “I’m late because -”
“Tardiness is not acceptable. I made that clear, did I not?” My voice was icy, and I needed to take it down a notch. I knew how sensitive she was. But dammit, I’d been looking forward to tonight, and she’d ruined that for the both of us.
“Yes, sir.”
I could barely hear her despite how quiet my office was.
“Yet, you still arrived late.”
“I’m very sorry. I didn’t -”
“I’m not interested in your excuses,” I said. “Our play session is cancelled for this evening. You can return home.”
“Please, Mr. Steele,” she said softly, “if you could give me another chance, I promise I -”
“I was also clear that I do not give second chances,” I said. “Wasn’t I?”
“Yes,” she said.
I continued to stare at my laptop, listening as she stood and left my office. I waited until I heard the front door close before I slammed my fist on the desk and stood.
“Fuck!” I snarled to my empty office.
My office window faced the driveway, and I told myself not to turn and look out the window, not to watch her climb into her shitty car and drive away, before spinning around and staring out into the darkness.
“What the hell?”
Charlotte’s piece of shit car wasn’t parked in the driveway, and, barely visible in the dark, Charlotte stood at the end of the driveway. As I watched, she started walking down the road, her head bent against the wind and her arms wrapped tightly around her torso.
“Fuck,” I repeated before running out of my office and down the stairs. I didn’t bother to snag a jacket, just went out the door and, skidding on the snow and ice, jogged down the driveway.
“Charlotte!” I shouted, and she jerked wildly, slipping on the ice and nearly landing on her ass before she caught her balance.
She turned around, staring wide-eyed at me as I joined her. “Mr. Steele? What’s wrong?”
“Why the fuck are you walking?” I asked.
“My car broke down on the way here,” she said. “It’s why I was late.”
It was too dark to see much of her features, but I could see how her body shivered in her thin coat. She at least had winter boots on her feet, but she wasn’t wearing a hat, gloves, or even a damn scarf.
She started to back away. “I’m sorry, but I need to go, Mr. Steele. It’s a bit chilly tonight, and I’m not dressed for the weather.”
“A bit chilly? It’s fucking freezing out here. Come with me.” I took her hand, tugging her back toward the driveway. There was no sound but the crunch of the snow beneath our feet and Charlotte”s occasional sniffle. Once we were back in the house, I got my first real look at her, and guilt rocketed through me. Her face was pale and streaked with tears, and her lips were blue. Despite the warmth of the house, she still shook wildly, and her teeth chattered.
“Thank you,” she said. “As soon as I warm up, I’ll leave.”
I bent to unlace her boots, and she took a step back. “Oh, um, my feet are kind of cold. I’ll just leave these and my jacket on while I warm up.”
I ignored her and unlaced her boots before pulling them off. I felt her foot through her nylons, muttering a curse at how cold her toes were. “You might have frostbite.”
“I don’t,” she said.
I stood and took her purse, setting it on the side table before unbuttoning her jacket.
“Mr. Steele,” she tried to bat my hands away, “I’m very cold and I -”
“You have hypothermia,” I said.
She smiled faintly. “I don’t have hypothermia.”
I tossed her coat on the side table and took her hand, pulling her across the foyer and down the hallway. I walked her past the formal living room and into the smaller family room. I made Charlotte sit on the couch and tucked the blanket draped on the back of the sofa around her body before turning on the fireplace. I sat beside her and pulled her in tight against me, rubbing her arms briskly through the blanket.
She was tense and still shaking, and I kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I was a dick.”
“You weren’t,” she said. “I knew the rules. I should have texted the sisters and asked them to notify you that I needed to cancel instead of trying to get here on time by walking.”
I made her rest her head on my chest. “You shouldn’t have walked here in the dark. That was incredibly dangerous.”
“It wasn’t that far,” she said. “It’s why I thought I could make it on time, but the steep hills and snow slowed me down more than I expected.”
Her body had finally stilled, but I hated that she was still tense. Keeping my voice low, I slid my hand under her silky hair and lightly kneaded the back of her neck. “Be my good girl and relax for me, Charlotte.”
She immediately burrowed against me, tucking her legs up under her and wrapping an arm around my waist. We sat silently for nearly a minute before she said, “I’m so sorry I was late.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain.”
I continued to knead the back of her neck, working on the knot I could feel just at the base of it. She made a soft groan. “That feels really nice.”
“Good,” I said. “Are you -”
Charlotte’s stomach growled long and loud, and she sat up, pressing her hand against it. “Oh God, sorry. I had to work late and didn’t have time for dinner.”
“Are you warmer?” I asked.
“Much warmer,” she said. She leaned against me again before suddenly sitting up and giving me an embarrassed look. She threw off the blanket and stood up before I could stop her. “I’ll go now.”
I stood and took her hand. We walked out of the family room, but when Charlotte went toward the front door, I pulled her toward the kitchen instead.
“Mr. Steele, I -”
“Hush, please, Charlotte,” I said.
She quieted obediently and followed me into the kitchen.
“Sit at the island,” I said, pressing my hand against the small of her back to urge her in that direction.
She sat down and watched silently as I took the leftover soup I’d made for dinner from the fridge and spooned it into a bowl before popping it in the microwave. I set a spoon and napkin in front of her before opening the refrigerator. “What would you like to drink? I have water, juice, wine, or beer.”
“Water, please,” she said. “You don’t have to make me something to eat, Mr. Steele.”
“Technically, I’m not.” I handed her a bottle of water before taking the soup out of the microwave and setting it in front of her. “I’m reheating soup.”
I was weirdly pleased when she ate a spoonful, and a look of pure delight crossed her face. “This is so good. Where did you get it?”
“I made it,” I said.
“You’re a great cook.” She spooned more soup into her mouth with enthusiasm and a lack of self-consciousness that I appreciated. I loved to cook, but most of my previous girlfriends had been too calorie-conscious to truly enjoy the food I cooked for them.
Charlotte isn’t your girlfriend.
I grimaced inwardly. She was being paid to be my good girl and nothing more. Hell, Charlotte wasn’t even her real name, and I would make damn certain I didn’t ask her to tell me her real one. I’d learned my lesson with Eloise.
“Seriously, this is delicious,” Charlotte said happily. “It’s perfect. Do you enjoy cooking?”
“I do,” I said as I sat beside her.
“Was it your mom or your dad who taught you?” she asked.
“My grandmother, actually,” I said. “She and my grandfather owned a restaurant for years.”
“Oh, cool.”
It was actually a chain of incredibly popular restaurants they sold for a whopping amount of money when they retired, but I wouldn’t tell Charlotte that. Maybe she’d recognize the name, or maybe she wouldn’t, but I wouldn’t take the risk.
“So, even though you love to cook, you decided not to join the family business?” Charlotte asked.
“My father was adamant I go to university and get a real degree,” I said. “By the time I finished, my grandparents had retired and sold the restaurant.”
“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. “I was angry at first, but ultimately, I think my personality was better suited to the business world. So, my father did me a favour.”
“Do you get along with your parents?” she asked.
“Mostly,” I said in a tone that made it clear I was done talking about that subject. “Eat your soup, Charlotte.”
She ducked her head and quickly finished her soup before drinking some water. She still looked exhausted and anxious, but I was pleased to see that the colour had returned to her cheeks, and her lips were a normal pink. I frowned and leaned in, studying her bottom lip.
“Shit, I think you have frostbite on your lip,” I said.
The tip of her tongue flicked out to touch the swollen and raw-looking skin. “I don’t.”
“I think you might. You should have it looked at.”
“It’s not frostbitten,” she said. “I just had a stressful week at work, and I…”
“You chew on your bottom lip when you’re anxious,” I said.
She nodded and touched her lip self-consciously before drinking more water. We sat silently for a few seconds before she said, “So, I’m still up for a play session if you are?”
“It’s late,” I said, glancing at the microwave clock.
“Not that late,” she said, giving me a smile that looked decidedly fake.
“You’re obviously tired and had a bad day,” I said.
“Oh, it wasn’t that bad.” Her voice turned high-pitched when she lied, and she chewed at her painful-looking bottom lip. She hesitated and then placed her hand on my upper thigh, rubbing it slowly. “I would love a play session with you, Mr. Steele.”
“It’s more than clear that’s not true,” I said. “You’re not into it tonight, and that’s fine. I understand why you aren’t, so why are you trying so hard to convince me you are?”
She dropped her hand from my thigh and slid off the stool. “You’re right. Thank you for the soup, Mr. Steele. It was kind of you to share it with me. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
I followed her out of the kitchen. She put on her boots and grabbed her jacket. When she picked up her purse, I said, “You can wait inside for your Uber.”
Her teeth worried her swollen bottom lip. “Oh, um, I’m certain my car will start now. It’s done this in the past. It just needs to sit for a bit, and then it’s good.”
I knew fuck all about cars, but that sounded like some pretty serious bullshit. “Is that right?”
“Yes,” she said. “Good night, Mr. Steele.”
“You can’t walk to your car. It’s cold, and it’s dark.”
“I’m good now that I’m warm,” she said. “Calling an Uber just to drive me to my car is a waste.”
“You’re right,” I said, opening the closet and reaching for my jacket. “I’ll drive you to your car.”
“What?” She gave me a horrified look. “Oh, no, no, thank you, Mr. Steele. I mean, that’s very kind of you, but you’ve already done so much for me this evening. I can’t ask you to -”
“You didn’t ask, I offered,” I said. “Come with me, Charlotte.”
She hesitated but ultimately followed me back through the kitchen and into the mudroom to the door leading into the garage. I opened the passenger door for her, and she sat gingerly on the seat, giving me a doubtful look as I slid behind the wheel. “Are you sure you don’t mind giving me a ride to my car, Mr. Steele?”
“I don’t mind,” I said and started the car.