33. Dante
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
DANTE
Ifound Shaw alone in the small study alcove on the third floor of the union building. Rain pounded against the windows, casting him in a gray light. He stared out at the downpour, not noticing my approach until I slid onto the couch beside him, our shoulders touching.
“How did you know I would be in here?” Shaw asked.
“Trent told me,” I replied. Before he could respond, I captured his lips with a gentleness I rarely allowed myself to show.
When we parted, our foreheads rested against each other.
“We need to talk,” Shaw said, his voice carrying the weight of whatever Salvatore had done to him.
I drew back. “I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”
He nodded. “Fine. What did Jace do to you?”
Of course, that would be his first concern. Not his own safety, but mine. “Shouted a lot of nonsense before getting himself banned.” It felt safer to leave out the details until I had more information. “Does that mean you’re responsible for his black eye and busted lip and not our men?”
Shaw looked away, rubbing his knuckles. “I’m not proud of that.”
“You should be.” I ran my fingers along Shaw’s jaw to mirror where a bruise had formed on Jace’s face. “It’s about time someone put that asshole in his place.”
He fidgeted under my touch, his question coming out in a rush. “Did he touch you?”
“As if I would ever allow him to have the pleasure of being with me.” I didn’t mention the kisses, the groping, or the humiliation of having to entertain Jace’s pathetic power play while Salvatore watched through cameras. “Especially not when I know how badly the hypocrite wants it.”
“What do you mean by that?” Shaw’s brow furrowed, his hands playing with the hem of his shirt.
I wasn’t ready to expose the full extent of my cruelty to Shaw yet, so I opted for a less direct response. “His homophobia is a shield to deflect from his own confused desire.”
“Did you really sleep with Jace’s sister, Melissa?”
“Yes.”
His face fell. The disappointment in his eyes cut surprisingly deep. “Why would you do that?”
“Because of you.”
Confusion washed over his features. “What do you mean, because of me?”
The memory surfaced of Shaw’s hunched shoulders in the cafeteria as Jace berated him, the whispers following him through the halls after his so-called friend’s public meltdown. The hot rage I’d felt watching him suffer while I could do nothing.
“He hurt you, so I hurt him, because you’re too nice to do it for yourself.”
The furrow of his brow deepened. “What are you talking about?”
“Back in high school, Jace heard that rumor about you and Mike,” I explained, watching recognition dawn in his eyes.
Shaw huffed. “It was a stupid rumor that started because someone saw us alone in a classroom together. Nothing even happened between us.”
“That didn’t stop Jace’s homophobia from rearing its ugly head when he set you up on a blind date with Belinda to help prove to the school you were straight. When you refused to go, he had a huge meltdown in the cafeteria. Everyone gossiped about it for weeks.”
Shaw’s face flushed with the memory. “Why would you care about that?”
“Because I knew you were gay and how much his selfish attempts at ‘helping you’ hurt.” My voice hardened. “He deserved payback for making you miserable.”
Shaw stared at me, stunned. “How did you know I was gay back then? The only people I told were Trent and my uncle.”
I gave him a pointed look. “Did you think your crush on me was subtle?”
A deep blush spread across his cheeks. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”
“I notice everything about you,” I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “I always have.”
He rubbed his forehead as he tried to make sense of it all. “Are you saying you slept with Melissa to get back at Jace for me?”
“I couldn’t defend you publicly because of Jace, so I did the second-best thing by hurting him where he was most vulnerable.
He worships that girl in a deeply disturbing way.
If he wasn’t so obsessed with hating me, I’d think he was in love with her.
Taking her virginity and then walking away crushed him in a way nothing else could have. ”
“Jace is an asshole, but Melissa didn’t deserve that,” Shaw said quietly, disappointment etched into his expression.
I shrugged, unwilling to apologize for a decision I’d made years ago.
“She was collateral damage. Besides, she isn’t as innocent as Jace thinks.
She practically threw herself at me the second I paid attention to her.
She knew exactly what she was doing when she invited me to her bedroom.
Plus, I gave her the best fuck of her life, so she got the better end of the deal. ”
Shaw studied me. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Do you mean enjoy having sex with Melissa specifically or with a woman?”
“Both,” he clarified, his voice strained.
I paused, calculating my response. “My real satisfaction came from the payback, from knowing I’d taken something Jace valued above all else.”
Shaw frowned. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”
I ignored his comment and moved on to the other point. “At the brothel, it’s my job to have sex with anyone who can afford me. Gender is irrelevant.”
“What would have been your choice if you had been allowed to choose for yourself?”
“I’m bisexual, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Shaw sat back with a stunned expression, creating distance between us.
“Does that bother you?” I asked, genuinely curious. It seemed an odd sticking point for someone who’d been paying to have sex with me.
“No,” he said quickly, then paused. “I guess I never considered it. I always assumed you were only into men.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s stupid, I know. It shouldn’t matter.”
“But it does. Why?”
He struggled to articulate his thoughts, his face a study in conflicted emotions. “I can’t help but wonder with all the options you have, why would you ever choose to be with someone like me? Someone who complicates your life and puts you at risk?”
“Being bisexual doesn’t mean I’m indiscriminate. While my attraction isn’t limited by gender, who I want most is specific to the person.” I brushed my fingers against his cheek. “And right now, the only person I want is you.”
He didn’t look entirely convinced, but some of the tension left his shoulders. After a long pause, he asked in a small voice, “Do you enjoy working at the brothel?”
“Does it make it better or worse for you to know I enjoy some of my clients or hate everyone I’m forced to service?” I asked.
Shaw looked conflicted. “I don’t know. I hate thinking about you being trapped there and hating every moment while people use you for their pleasure. But thinking about you enjoying being with other people hurts, too.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m sorry, that sounds selfish.”
“It sounds human,” I corrected gently. “The truth is complicated. Most clients are meaningless transactions to me. Some are worse than others. There are plenty who are tolerable.”
“But tolerable doesn’t mean you enjoy it. It only means you don’t suffer quite as much.”
“There are times when I’m with someone who gives as much as they take.” It was easier to say that than explain the comfort I found in being with Natalia and the complex confusion Renato stirred within me.
Shaw nodded, accepting the deflection, though questions still brewed behind his eyes. He bit his lip, then asked hesitantly, “When people book threesomes at the brothel, do they bring their own third person or choose another employee?”
I ignored the dangerous spike of sudden hope. “It works both ways. Some clients bring their partners to split the costs. It makes the experience more affordable when you’re each only paying half-price for one professional.”
Shaw’s expression remained guarded. “And the others?”
“They book a second employee from Gennaro Corporation. It’s quite common, actually.”
“Do the clients choose who joins, or do you get to pick?”
I forced myself to maintain a neutral expression.
Hope was a luxury I couldn’t afford in my line of work, especially when it involved Shaw.
“Most clients have specific preferences. They request someone by name or describe the kink they’re looking to indulge, and a specialist is assigned to them. Others ask for recommendations.”
“Do you always recommend the same people when it’s up to you?” His question was too pointed to be casual curiosity.
I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “I select whoever I think will best satisfy the client’s sexual desires. It’s about compatibility and knowing what will push the right buttons for that particular client.”
“But you have favorites you like to work with,” Shaw pressed, his gaze finally meeting mine.
“Like any job, there are colleagues I get along with better than others,” I admitted. “And yes, some are more sexually compatible with me since their skills are near my level.”
Shaw’s mouth quirked up. “Near your level? Not at it?”
“I’m the top earner for a reason,” I replied with a chuckle. “No one is better than me.” Although Renato came pretty damn close.
He shook his head, amusement flickering across his face. “Your humility is astounding.”
“False modesty is boring,” I countered.
His mouth opened, then closed, the question dying before it reached his lips.
“What were you going to ask?” I prompted gently, watching uncertainty play across his features.
He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s stupid.”
I watched him carefully before asking, “Are you thinking about booking a threesome with me and someone else?”
The blush that spread across his cheeks was answer enough, but he only shrugged. “Trent brought it up the other day. It made me curious, that’s all.”
“Curious enough to try it?” I pressed.
Shaw shrugged without saying anything.
I placed my hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “They can be incredibly enjoyable with the right partners. The sensation of having the undivided attention of two devoted lovers is an incredible experience.”