Chapter 24
Ethan
The decision to follow Sophia to Alchemy wasn’t actually a decision. Not when I’d spoken to her earlier in that unforgivable way. The option of waiting until Monday to see her was unfathomable.
But now that I’m here, it’s clear she’s not thrilled to see me.
Far from it.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise. I lashed out, saying things that were as disgusting as they were untrue, and she responded by giving me the kind of grace I neither expected nor deserved.
Any other woman would have slapped my face or thrown a glass of water in it.
Any other woman would have handed in her notice there and then.
But Sophia didn’t.
And, as I slunk off to the den and collapsed on the sofa in a gigantic puddle of shame and self-loathing, I forced myself to confront some harsh truths.
I owed her that, at the very least. I was out of line—way, way out of line—and I didn’t know why I had said those things or where they had come from.
I really didn’t. I was shocked and disgusted the moment they came out of my mouth.
I didn’t understand what she’d meant when she’d said I was testing her.
I was lashing out, I suppose. What was that saying?
Hurt people hurt people. I was feeling shitty after Elena called me out on my inadequacies as a father, and I had some childish, petty impulse to hurt Sophia, too, to make her feel some level of the shame and inadequacy I was feeling.
Not rocket science, but inexcusable, nonetheless.
Even now, I genuinely don’t understand what she means when she talks about these ‘parts’, but I can concede that there’s some kind of war being waged inside me, that there’s a conflict. I hope that means I’m not all bad, that the rot hasn’t spread to my core.
That there’s hope for me yet.
Sophia is magnificent, and I don’t just mean her looks, although tonight she’s hard to look away from.
Amid the group of undeniably stunning women, several of whom I’ve been intimate with, she stands out.
Her dark hair is sleek and straight tonight in a long ponytail that only enhances the beauty of her face.
She’s wearing an emerald green silky dress that, from what I can see, has an alarming plunge at the front and is completely backless.
It barely contains her curves, and I absolutely hate to think that she’s chosen to wear it to this place for that particular reason.
No, she’s magnificent because of the power of her self-belief, of her emotional fortitude.
She would absolutely have been entitled to crumble earlier.
She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met: the most enthralling mix of femininity and strength and compassion while taking no prisoners.
She makes being well-adjusted look easy, and it’s about time I stopped fucking around and taking her for granted.
It’s time I started investing in her wellbeing beyond mere orgasms.
Which is why, when she and a few of her glamorous friends head for The Playroom’s double doors, turning every head in the place as they do, I call out her name from my perch at the bar.
‘Sophia. Wait. Please.’
Her hands are on her hips, showing every spectacular curve off to perfection, and her dark eyes are flashing with irritation and, I suspect, the anticipation of tearing me a new one, and god is she a vision.
I take her in, the vibrant green silky fabric hanging loose around her neck and framing a sliver of the underside of each breast before plunging almost to her navel.
Now that she’s right in front of me, I can see that this dress is seriously easy access.
A sideways swipe of the neckline would free a breast, or I could just reach behind her and yank the entire halter thingy over her head so the dress pooled around her waist, suspended only by the perfect curves of her hips.
She’s dressed to be naked in seconds, and it seriously pisses me off.
‘What the hell are you doing here, Ethan? What do you want? Because you must know you’re the last person I want to see this evening, and you could at least do me the courtesy of staying well away.’
‘I know.’ I dismount from my stool so we’re practically toe to toe. I stare down at her lovely pinky-red mouth for a moment before meeting her gaze again. ‘I came here to apologise in person for how I behaved earlier. It was completely unacceptable, and I couldn’t let it slide until Monday.’
‘Although respecting my wishes would have been a better way of acknowledging my need for some distance, don’t you think? Because I assume you have enough emotional intelligence to understand that when I said I’d be giving you space, it was a tactful way of saying I needed space. Yet here you are.’
‘You’re right.’ I swallow. ‘I know you needed space from the prick I was earlier, but I was hoping… that if I, er, apologised, you might overlook the interruption.’
She narrows her eyes. ‘Go on, then.’
Apologising is hard for me. I’d like to think it’s less because I’m a dick—at least, not completely—and more because it involves vulnerability.
And while Sophia seems to think I’m totally lacking in self-awareness, I know enough about myself to know that being vulnerable, in any form, makes me nervous.
Splaying yourself open, admitting wrongdoing, putting yourself in the hands of someone else’s mercy—all these are things that make me deeply uncomfortable.
That said, all these things are less terrifying than the alternative, which is alienating Sophia.
I’ve fucked up every major relationship in my life, and I’m not about to make the same mistake quite so quickly.
She may irritate the hell out of me with her lack of basic respect and unwelcome psychoanalysis and generally unwarranted levels of vivacity, but I’m man enough to admit that she’s good for me.
Besides, the sexual chemistry between us is like nothing on earth, and I’d be an idiot to sabotage that.
I put a palm on each of her upper arms and gaze down at her.
Her skin is so warm and soft. She hasn’t said I can touch her, but I’m hoping she’ll understand that it’s part of how intentional, how genuine, I want to make this apology.
I hope she can see the sincerity on my face, too, and hear it in my voice.
‘Sophia. I am truly sorry for the disgraceful things I said to you earlier. I was pissed off, and I took it out on you. Not only were they incredibly disrespectful, but they were patently untrue.’ Her mouth stays in a thin, unimpressed line.
I clear my throat and push on. ‘The way you own your sexuality is one of my favourite things about you, and I suppose I’ve been the main beneficiary recently.
I know I can be… difficult, but I genuinely thought that was one area where I was getting it right, so it doesn’t exactly feel great to know that you’re coming here in search of other guys.
On the contrary, it feels pretty shite, actually.
‘But that’s on me, not you. We have a contractual relationship, and I need to remember that you’re a free agent.
You’re not my girlfriend.’ The word sounds fantastical to my own ears.
‘I shouldn’t have taken my bad mood out on you.
I can’t tell you how sorry I am if I made you feel in any way lacking because I couldn’t handle my own issues. ’
She says nothing, but her face softens into a small smile.
‘Say something. Please.’
She blows out a breath. ‘Wow. It’s very, very good for me that you’re not this sweet and introspective most of the time.’
I frown. I have no idea what she means. I’d have thought she’d far prefer it if I was rational and respectful instead of volatile and controlling and emotionally inadequate. ‘How so?’
‘Never you mind. But thank you. As far as apologies go, that was a pretty good one.’
I nod my acknowledgment a little awkwardly. I’m not used to getting it right with anyone I’m close to—not Jamie, not Elena, not my father, and certainly not my EAs. ‘So you’re, um, going next door?’
‘I am.’ Her tone is somewhat defiant. She’s expecting me to throw my toys again.
‘All right. Anything in particular you’re looking for in there?’
She shakes her head as if she knows my game and has no intention of being tricked into disclosure. ‘I don’t know yet. I’ve never been in there. I assume you have, if you’ve managed to get in here?’
I incline my head. ‘Brendan proposed me over the summer during my dry spell. It’s… effective.’
That gets me a smile. ‘I see. So of the two of us, it’s you who’s the pro tonight. Who’d have thought? Any recommendations?’
My throat constricts. Jesus Christ, the idea of Sophia being next door, tied to a cross, or bent over and shackled to the club’s infamous banquette, or fucked up against a pillar, or laid out on a padded bench for several guys to use as they wish—the idea of it makes me feel faint with jealousy and desire.
Because if I knew she was a prize the very first moment I saw her, then every depraved fucker in there will see her in this scrap of green silk and reach the same conclusion pretty fucking quickly.
She’s playing her cards close to her chest. I know she’s come here primarily to catch up with her girlfriends, but I’d be na?ve to think the choice of a renowned sex club as a venue was incidental.
I have no say over what she does in there; I know that.
But I stand by my comments just now. It’s been electric between us, physically speaking, since she started working for me.
So maybe, just maybe, she’ll allow me to be her host next door.
‘A few things spring to mind,’ I confess.
‘If you’re looking to push some boundaries, you’re in the right place.
’ I swallow hard. ‘And I say this as someone who has your best interests at heart, but what could be more convenient than having a man who knows what gets you off, and knows what your beautiful body is capable of—or suspects it, at least—being the one to show you the ropes?’
She rewards me with her signature full-wattage smile, and it makes me so weak with desire that my knees are trembling.
Her eyes, black in this light, are shining.
That easy-access dress of hers, which seemed like a personal affront when I first saw it, suddenly represents a world of possibilities.
She’s fucking gorgeous. I meant what I said.
Her ownership of her sexuality is one of the most attractive things about her, and right now she’s lit up, alive with the prospect of what tonight could hold.
And goddammit, I need a piece of that.
‘And are those ropes literal or metaphorical?’
‘Either. Both. Think about it. You just admitted that I’m the pro tonight, after all.’
She sighs. ‘But it’s my night. Not yours. I don’t want you getting all controlling and hijacking it. What if I want to play with other guys?’
I flare my nostrils as I force myself to abandon every last boundary I’d need if I were to stay in my comfort zone with Sophia.
Because no, I don’t fucking want to share her, even if I can admit to myself that the prospect of watching other guys fall over themselves to give her pleasure is somewhat arousing. I force the truth out.
‘I won’t be thrilled, but I’d rather be a part of it than be excluded, and I won’t mess it up for you. I won’t cockblock you.’
I release her arms and hold my hands out in a gesture of surrender. Of truth. There you have it.
She stares at me in disbelief.
‘I won’t cockblock you,’ I repeat, ‘but I know there are times when you love me being in control, and I’d like to think I could manage the situation in a way that makes it even better for you.’
‘So, what, you’re saying you want to take the reins next door?’
I nod curtly, my stomach a roiling mess of arousal and possession. ‘Exactly. Consider it my way of making amends. I made a very inelegant attempt to denigrate you as a sexual being earlier. Let me show you how I really feel. Let me give you a night you won’t forget.’
Sophia blows out a breath. ‘Then I suppose you have yourself a deal, Mr Kingsley.’