Chapter 6
Chapter six
Alistair
Itap my foot impatiently, as the elevator ascends to the twenty-ninth floor.
I've never rushed through a workout in my life, but the thought of Caitlyn naked in my shower was enough to push me faster through my usual cardio/weight routine.
Even the gym attendant jumped to his feet in surprise when I ended twenty minutes early.
As I stride purposefully down the hall, my phone pings with an incoming message.
BARRETT BILLINGS
Sorry about missing your text, bud. Did you figure out the flower situation?
I pause a moment, sending him a quick reply.
Yes. Apparently, the amount of flowers matters more than the type.
***
I don't understand it, but I think I now own a florist shop.
Did it work?
I think so. You met her at Ethan’s wedding a few weeks ago.
Damn it. You just made me lose a bet with West. I'm never going to hear the end of this.
Congrats, man. I'm in love, too. Save the date for a wedding next year.
Congratulations.
"Caitlyn?" I call, pulling my sweaty T-shirt off as I walk through the front door of the suite. The covers are pulled up on the bed in the master, and barely a hint of her intoxicating scent lingers, but even a whiff of it is enough to get me hard.
I duck my head into the bathroom, but I already know it's empty. The entire suite felt vacant the second I stepped foot inside.
As I walk back out of the bathroom, I notice the necklace and money are still on the dresser. Maybe she missed them before she had to work?
Oh, right. She's at work.
I wonder if I'll be allowed to sit in her office with her all day while she works once we're married? Speaking of which, I should reach out to Ms. Holmes to get options for a chapel. Is tonight too soon? I should ask Caitlyn her preference.
I jump into the shower, eyeing the tile bench I plan to use with Caitlyn later. She's my obsession, and I plan to take the rest of our lives to learn everything I can about her. Tonight, I'll find out what she looks like riding me in a shower.
I dry off and throw on underwear and a T-shirt. Lying on the bed, I dial the spa.
"Hello, White Sands Spa at Golden Palm Hotel how can I help you?"
"Caitlyn Collins," I say, preoccupied with my thoughts about our shower later. "Please," I add.
"Of course. May I ask who's calling?" the woman on the other end of the phone asks politely.
"Alistair Evans."
"Oh! Yes, sir. Please hold."
While I wait for Caitlyn to connect to the line, I roll over on the bed and bury my face in her pillow. Caitlyn's candy-coated watermelon scent lingers, and I inhale deeply.
"Hello, Mr. Evans." Caitlyn's voice startles me, even though I was expecting her. The background noise is the same as it was when the woman first answered the phone, so I assume she's at the front of the spa. I scramble to sit up. "Hi. How's your day going?"
"Fine."
I pause. Someone must be standing next to her, so I try to keep it professional. "Good. Did you find something to wear?"
"Yes. Thank you. I'll have the dress dry-cleaned and returned to your suite by tomorrow, Mr. Evans." Caitlyn whispers the last part.
What the fuck is happening?
"I don't care about the dress. I want you in my suite. Right now," I growl, wondering why she sounds so formal with me after the night we spent together. I professed my love for her, and she said it back. Did I misread something?
"I didn't sleep with you for money, Alistair," Caitlyn hisses into the phone. It sounds like her voice breaks a little on the last word, but the sounds of the casino jingle and clang in the background, so I can't be sure.
"I know," I say, completely baffled by the sudden change in direction for our conversation. "I didn't say you did."
I would gladly hand over all my money to this woman if she asked, so I'm still unsure of the issue.
"Hold on," she says with a sigh. As she puts me on hold, I try to figure out what I did wrong.
I had the necklace custom made three weeks ago.
The day I won the bet and I got to taste her for the first time.
I stopped at my friend's jewelry store on the way out of town.
I wanted Caitlyn to know how much she meant to me.
The drop in the stones reminds me of the little indent on her throat, and I thought the emerald would match her eyes, but maybe I should have let her pick her own jewelry?
"Are you still there?" Caitlyn's melodic voice comes back on the line, but now, she's somewhere quiet.
"Yes. I'm sorry you didn't have a good time last night."
"Last night was the best night of my life, Alistair," Caitlyn says quietly. Her words should make me feel better, but I'm even more perplexed because Caitlyn sounds like she's on the verge of tears. I want to burn the world down to fix this.
"Caitlyn, I'm a very literal person. I can't guess what's going on in your head.
I need context and direct communication.
" I've learned to tell people what I need, while also recognizing that not everybody is willing to put up with me.
The sadness that overtakes me when I consider that Caitlyn may, in fact, be someone who is unwilling to deal with me is intense.
I have to fight the urge to hang up the phone and run from my emotions.
Instead, I spin the pen on the table next to me, over and over, desperately hoping she's willing to try with me.
"You left me a necklace and a pile of money on the dresser," Caitlyn says quietly. "Was that payment for services rendered?"
"Services rendered?" I repeat. I'm so confused.
"Alistair…" Caitlyn puts her hand over the receiver and tells someone she will be right there, before coming back and whispering, "It made me feel like a prostitute."
"What?" I take a moment to consider what she's saying.
I have never had an issue with prostitution as a profession, as long as everyone is ethical.
If somebody wants to make money off their body by offering sex, and the other party is willing to pay and treat them well, then, by all means, do what you want to do.
As long as everyone is safe, it's none of my business.
However, I don't view Caitlyn as a sex worker.
I thought we were participating in more than a physical act last night.
Or, I was, at least.
"Look, I know it was just supposed to be one night, Alistair.
And it was incredible," Caitlyn says, taking a deep breath before she continues.
"It's not your fault. The truth is, I'm—I'm in love with you.
And, my stupid heart wants you to want more with me.
I don't want to be there for just your physical pleasure in exchange for a pile of gifts. "
Her confession leaves me speechless. But the burst of joy that courses through my body from her declaration of love is quickly doused with her next words.
"I have to go. I don't think we should talk for awhile. Goodbye, Alistair."
The line goes silent.
Still baffled by how I screwed this up so royally, I am now one hundred percent certain of one thing.
Caitlyn is mine.