"But in your case, you're extremely green, so I have no reason to think you have another Dom, but I've every reason to believe you have another man." I check my watch and hum faintly. "If I had to guess, and I'm just throwing out a guess here, I'd say it was that fellow who drove you to work the other morning."
"It's not like that." Her hand rubs against her chest like she's physically pained by this accusation. "If you took two seconds to try and get to know me, you'd know about my situation at home."
"I'm well aware of your situation at home." I can't resist. Opportunity knocked, and I had to answer.
"What do you mean?"
"Your family," I say. "You're AUB."
She hesitates, her lips pressing into a fine line as her brows scrunch. "How'd you know?"
I refuse to explain that we live in the digital age, where anything about anyone can be discovered after a few clicks and the exchanging of money between hands.
"Obviously it's not an issue," I state. "Despite the fact that I am vehemently against the idea of polygamous relationships, and I won't even get into the religious aspect of it, but that's neither here nor there."
"Oh?"
"I respect that it's not something that would've come up in conversation," I say. "I'm not holding that against you, for the record."
I give myself a silent pat-on-the-back for saving my lawyer some trouble with that one. Wrongful termination suits based on religious beliefs can be a goldmine for the accusing party.
"For the record, I don't believe in polygamy either," she says, her eyes darting into mine. We hold our gazes for a second beyond what feels natural to me. "I'm trying to get away, not that you care. Not that it matters to you."
"How do you know what does and does not matter to me?"
"Okay, fine. Not that I matter to you. There. Fixed it." Her arms cross and her fingers dig into the flesh of her arms until her knuckles whiten.
"Are you being held prisoner right now? Against your will?"
"It's complicated, Dane. And if you're just asking because you're curious and not because you're interested in helping get me out of this situation, then please don't make me waste my breath."
"What if I said I was interested in helping you?"
"Then I'd tell you to start by un-firing me."
"Not so fast."
Bellamy tucks her hair behind her ear like she's about to cling to what I have to say next.
"I'll need some time to think about this," I say, straightening my jacket. "Naturally."
What good would it do to teach her she could throw a tantrum, call me names, give me some sob story and get what she wants? I'd be doing both of us zero favors by allowing that.
"How much time?" Her pretty eyes widen.
"As much time as I need, Bellamy." I fold my arms and narrow my gaze in her direction.
"How long would that be?"
"I don't know? Weeks? Months?"
Her fingers snake up to her neck, gripping just under her jaw as she blinks away tears. "You don't understand."
Bellamy falls to her knees once again, like a woman who's exercised all options and has nothing more to lose. There's nothing sexy about this stance, and her shoulders rise and fall as her head smashes against the palms of her hands.
Sniffling fills the voids between soft cries.
I'm not good at this.
I'm not good at soothing people when it's not immediately following an intense sexual scene.
"Stop." I rake my hand along my jaw, my gaze flicking up. "Stop crying, Bellamy. Stand up. Have a little more respect for yourself. Show me the girl I met. The one drinking champagne on a Tuesday and ignoring the handsome stranger who dared to ask her name. Give me her. I want her."
Her shoulders shake, harder now, and her palms slick away against her wet cheeks until she drags her eyes to meet mine. She takes a moment and pulls in a long drag of cool air to quell the crying.
"She was a lie." She focuses on my shoes, refusing to make eye contact. "She never existed."
TWENTY
BELLAMY
I'm in my office, but I don't remember how I got here. I think I bolted away from Dane before he had a chance to say another word. I've tangled myself into a web of lies, and there's no one else to blame but myself.
Dane's an arrogant, pretentious asshole, and all things considered, I don't even deserve him. He deserves better than some wanna-be sophisticate who's nothing like the girl she pretends to be.
I walk up to the mirror and grab a tissue, smearing off the Chanel lipstick I'd slicked on for him this morning.
I'm a humiliated fool, no doubt. I thought I could waltz into his office, fall on my knees, take him in my mouth, and redeem myself, but clearly that's not how he operates.
All the pretty things hanging in my closet will stay there. The makeup. The jewelry. The car. None of it was mine, but it was pretty amazing to step into someone else's shoes for a change. I take one final look at them, running my hands along the intricate beading of a silk chiffon camisole in twenty shades of ivory I never had a chance to wear.
I shut the closet. It's not the fancy things I'm going to miss the most. It's the way I felt when I was his for one whole week of my hopeless life. For a week, I was treasured, lavished, ravished, and needed.
And for one whole week, freedom from Cortland and freedom from my father's religious rule was beginning to be a fingers-reach away for the first time in my life.
Plan B.
I'll keep trying.
I'll find something else.
I'll never give up.
I empty my things from one of the fancy bags I'd used over the weekend, carrying my wallet and leaving the Land Rover keys and my cell phone on my desk, next to my laptop.
"I'm not a believer in second chances."
I glance up to see Dane standing in the doorway.
"And I've never chased after a woman." He folds his arms. "Ever."
"This is you chasing after me?" My knees weaken, and after the morning I've had, I need to sit down.
"I'm not letting you leave," he says, "when clearly you're in dire straits. I was hoping to make you work for it a bit more, but seeing as though you're on a tight timeline, I'm not sure you can afford to wait."
I nod, squeezing my eyes. My fist tightens, pressing against my lips.
"Can I just say something?" A quick inhalation bottles in my chest. "I'm so sorry for lying. I'm sorry for everything."
He chuckles, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat across from me. "Blanket apologies are half-assed, Bellamy. I'm happy to offer you assistance, but you won't receive my forgiveness unless you offer a better apology than that."
He's right.
I'm going to have to confess …
Everything.
"Several months ago, I met this guy at church." My eyes close as my fingers drum on the table. "We started out skipping Bible study and fooling around in the backseat of his car. Long story short, he's threatening to tell my father everything if I don't court him and subsequently agree to marry him."
I peek through one eye, to see Dane's narrowed expression as he rests his chin against a balled fist while he studies me.
"So I've been courting him a couple months now. It's awful. He's awful. The thought of him touching me again makes me sick." My tongue smacks as a wave of nausea hits. "He's a monster, Dane. And my family loves him."
"You're an uncompromising woman, Bellamy. I'm finding it hard to believe you're being strong-armed by some religious nut you met at Bible study."
My head tilts. "There's so much more than you know, Dane. Girls have been married off in my ward. Married off to old men with dozens of wives. My father associates with those people. Shares the same believes. You don't understand what he's capable of. He'll do anything to protect the family's reputation. He'd kill to be a quorum member too. Proving to them that he can raise a whole soccer team of children to walk the divine path would be a quick ticket in for him."
"I'm not discrediting you." He sits up, pursing his lips. "What's his name? The guy you're supposed to marry?"
I want to ask what he's going to do with that information, but instead, I offer it up on a silver platter. "Cortland McGregor."
His name puckers my lips and sends a sloshing sensation to my stomach.
"The salary you were paying me," I say. "I was going to save it all until I had enough to buy my own car and afford to move out."
Dane is as quiet as he's ever been in the short amount of time that I've known him. His fingers rake across the downturned corner of his mouth and the hollow spot above his jaw flexes.
"You were selling yourself to me," he says.
"Willingly," I add.
"And what did you plan on doing once you'd achieved your goal?" His gaze tightens. "Once you were done with me, done doing what needed to be done."
"I didn't think that far."
I wish he'd look at me.
He rises. "I'm not fond of being used, Bellamy. I'm not fond of being lied to or manipulated."