Chapter 10 #2
We arrive at the police station and it takes no more than half an hour for the detective to take my statement.
After I’m finished, I cringe through David’s recount, noting how calm and icy his tone becomes while describing how I took a stranger to the dance floor, then him finding me unresponsive in the man’s arms. As he speaks, small details come filtering back into my memory.
David had a blonde woman draped all over him at the club, not that he mentioned her to the detective.
I remember the burning sensation that spread through my chest when I saw them together.
I also remember that’s the reason I took the stranger to the dance floor.
It’s unnerving hearing someone describe your own actions that you can barely recall yourself, as though David was discussing someone else entirely.
When we’re done he offers me a lift and I ask him to drop me to my parents’ house for family lunch because, you know, even being drugged isn’t an excuse to skip it.
Not that I’m going to tell my family about it.
We’ve barely spoken during the drive besides discussing how the police identified the guy using the nightclub’s security system, and how they also have footage of the drugs being slipped into my shot while I had my back to the bar.
“It’s not your fault,” David says carefully, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Scum like this are experts at what they do. You never could have known you’d be drugged.”
It’s probably the nicest thing he’s said to me, and I glance out the window of his black Maserati and shift in the warm leather seat, tucking my hands under my bare thighs.
I threw on a pair of denim shorts and a sweater at my apartment earlier without a thought to the weather, but David had wordlessly turned on the seat warmers as soon as I slipped into the passenger seat.
“I know. I still feel really stupid though,” I admit softly. No use denying it, this man is too good at reading people. Or maybe it’s just me. I’d never been able to master the poker face.
“You shouldn’t.” He says it with finality, like his word is law. As if it’s that easy to just turn my thoughts off.
We ride in silence after that. My head rests back against the seat, and I steal glances in his direction when I think he isn’t looking.
Like a moth to a flame, I can’t help how the sight of him in casual clothes draws my complete and undivided attention.
It’s so surreal, sitting in David’s car when a week ago he was just a one-night stand I thought I would never see again.
The last twelve hours feel like some weird dream that I’m just waking from.
Or more like a nightmare. That’s how I’m going to deal with it, shove it all aside like it was some horrible nightmare. It’s not like I’m a stranger to those.
David clears his throat at some stage, forcing my eyes to flick back to him.
He’s so damn hot it’s near on impossible to look away.
Throw in the added distraction of how downright sexy he looks driving, one hand on the wheel and one resting on the console between us- it’s more than enough to help distract me from the events of the last night.
Of course the man drives a Maserati. It’s the vehicle version of him. Sleek, luxurious, powerful.
I decide in this moment that I’m not going to beat myself up over finding David attractive anymore, no matter how bloody rude he can be.
To deny it is only lying to myself. I can acknowledge and appreciate his attractiveness without it meaning anything else.
He’s my lawyer for Christ’s sake. It’s not like anything will ever happen between us again.
“I’ve decided to give you a clean slate,” I announce suddenly, keeping my face straight ahead as we exit the freeway, “from all the offensive things you’ve said to me. After last night, I owe you.”
I feel his dark gaze on my cheek.
“I didn’t realise I needed one,” he says, forcing me to take a deep breath to stop my hackles from rising. Bad idea. His car smells like him, all male and delicious, and it’s like taking a hit of concentrated sex pheromones. I need to crack a window, stat.
“Well, you did,” I bite out as he indicates and makes a turn. His arms flex with the movement.
I will not look at his forearms. I repeat the words in my mind like a mantra.
“Please, enlighten me as to why.” He reaches for the water bottle between us and hands it to me. “Drink.”
I don’t fight him. He’s been making me take sips every few minutes since we left the hospital. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I change the subject.
“Anna said you knew exactly what to do once you realised I’d been drugged. How?”
The muscles work in his jaw as he considers my question. According to Anna, he was checking all sorts of things while they waited for the ambulance to arrive. My pulse, my pupils and my breathing, to name a few.
“It’s common sense. Now tell me how I’ve offended you.”
I let out a sigh. He’s lying; don’t ask me how, but I can tell. But it’s none of my business how he knows so much about overdosing, so I let it go.
“You’ve repeatedly offended me by insinuating that I’m easy. I’m not.”
He looks over at me like I’ve got two heads. “You’re a prostitute,” he says slowly, like he’s explaining legislation to a cat. “It’s literally your job to be easy, is it not?”
It’s the way he says it that frustrates me, like it angers him on a personal level that I would sleep with men for money. What the hell does it have to do with him?
“I’m not a fucking prostitute!” I blurt, my fists curling at my sides.
All of a sudden it feels too warm in this car.
I fling my jumper off over my head and chuck it in the back seat, then gather fistfuls of my hair that I left loose and hold it in a pile over my head, refusing to look at David’s face.
If he was angry that I was a prostitute, he’ll be even angrier that I’m not.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
He slows down to pull the car over and dread settles in my gut. Why is he pulling the car over?
“Gianna,” his voice is icy as the car rolls to a stop in the emergency lane. Cars fly past his window at seventy kilometres an hour, yet we sit still with tension mounting at an alarming rate between us. ”Explain now. Please.”
Closing my eyes, I let out another sigh. “Look, I’m not a prostitute. Well, I was, but only for that one night, and even then not really because I didn’t take the money. I’ve slept with three men my whole life.”
“Funnily enough, that explains nothing.” His words are drier than the Sahara, and I chance a quick look in his direction. He doesn’t look angry. He looks… I don’t even know. He’s leaning back against the door with his arms folded across his chest, his dark gaze penetrating me under furrowed brows.
“How did you end up in that room with me if you’re not an escort?”
His jaw tightens as he waits for me to respond.
“It’s a lo-” I stop, release my hair down my back and tuck my hands back underneath my thighs. “It’s not a long story, actually. Just a complicated one.”
“And I’m all ears,” David grits out between clenched teeth. His tone reeks of impatience, triggering me. I bet he regrets the day he booked me.
“Look,” I huff. “I’m not a prostitute but that doesn’t mean that night meant anything to me, so you can relax. This is all just a misunderstanding.” His eyes narrow and drop to my lips, as if he can tell by looking at the words as they come out of my mouth if they’re the truth.
“When I first signed up to be an escort I had every intention of following through with it.” I untuck my hands and cross them over my chest, uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny.
“But then I never did. I just couldn’t. It’s not me.
” I realise I’m babbling, trying to explain without getting into detail about my past. “I was ready to take my picture off the website when your offer came through. I only accepted it because of how outrageous it was, and even then I wasn’t actually going to sleep with you. I just wanted to see who you were!”
My arms rise and fall quickly with my chest as my heart pounds like a drum. Fuck, with all I’ve put it through lately, it’s a wonder it hasn’t failed on me yet.
“Then why did you sleep with me?” His tone gives me frostbite, and I turn my gaze outside my window. I don’t want to see the regret that I know will be plastered all over his beautiful face.
“I…,” my cheeks flush, but I continue, “I saw you when you walked in, and I wanted you. It had nothing to do with the money.” I let out a deep breath.
“I guess I wanted to do something wild. Something unlike me. Something to finally free me from the bonds of my husband.” My voice is barely above a whisper by the time I finish, but I know he heard me.
He doesn’t say anything else after my confession. I wait for him to give me the whole ‘Even though no money was exchanged, that night was still purely transactional’ speech, but it never comes. He just starts the car and drives.
Ten minutes later, we pull up at my parents’ house and I open the door, slipping out of his car without saying another word.
I’m not even sure David will want to be my lawyer anymore.
He seemed contemplative after our discussion, like he was reassessing his life choices regarding me.
What if he thinks I like him? Or that I have some kind of emotional attachment to him because he’s one of the few men I’ve had sex with?
I swear, mortification has become my best friend lately.
Without looking back, I slam the door shut and start up my parents’ driveway, hiking my tote bag further up my shoulder. Another car door slams, startling me.
“What are you doing?” My eyebrows draw up to my hairline as David comes to walk beside me. He tucks his hands into his joggers and strolls toward the house.
“Walking you to the door.”
“Uh,” I stumble, then stop walking. “Why?”
I’m sure my face looks as horrified as I feel.