For the first time since I’d signed that contract, I truly regretted what I’d done. I felt caged. But even if I had the opportunity to back out now, would I? The carrot of two million dollars dangling in front of me was going to inspire me to keep moving forward, no matter how painful it was.
Well, the good news was it couldn’t possibly get any worse than tonight.
Could it?
Chapter Seven
The next morning, after I groggily dragged myself out of bed, Daniel made me breakfast again. This time, he didn’t need to ask me how I took my eggs. I ate mechanically and responded to him with one-syllable answers when he asked me how I was feeling, did I sleep well, did I have a good time last night? I could tell he wanted to ask much more prying questions, but he kept his mouth shut.
For a while.
Just as I was about to finish my second cup of coffee, he said:
“That was quite a performance you put on last night.”
His eyes were searching my face. He knew it wasn’t an act - he wanted me to admit it. He wanted to comfort me, just as if we were really a couple. Didn’t he understand that was going to make it worse? We couldn’t play at being in love in private. It was bad enough doing it in public, with everyone watching. At least then I could distract myself with the dubious thrill of deceiving people.
“Thank you,” I said flatly, slamming my cup down on the counter so hard I was sure it would crack. It didn’t, but Daniel jumped a little.
“I’m going to get dressed. Can you have John ready for me? I have to go home and take care of some things.”
“Absolutely. Of course.” I could feel him watching me as I walked down the hallway and disappeared into my room.
This was probably a bad time for me to sequester myself in my apartment and not speak to him or see him - it would look strange. But I had to appreciate that he wasn’t pushing me. Maybe he did understand. Sort of. A little bit.
My apartment felt cold and strange when I got there. Oddly un-lived-in. I certainly hadn’t ever gone on any sort of vacation or getaway since I’d moved in here, so it was an odd atmosphere. Until Daniel came along, I hadn’t even spent the night at someone’s place. I’d never felt comfortable doing it - it wasn’t the intimacy of it so much as simply trying to sleep in a bed with another person. Of course the guys I usually picked had maybe a twin-sized bed if I was lucky, and getting a decent night’s rest while tangled up with a sweaty, snoring, thrashing human being in close quarters was simply impossible. I didn’t know how long-term couples did it. I needed my own space, a big, cool expanse of bed upon which I was free to sprawl as I pleased. I never felt lonely when I slept. Far from it.
Daytime was different, of course. Sometimes it was too quiet, a little too still, even for me. But that was the trade-off for independence.
It was going to be a rough adjustment to being a kept woman for a year.
Daniel didn’t call me all weekend. My phone did ring once, but it was the mechanic, letting me know that my car was done and they’d send a courtesy shuttle to pick me up whenever I was ready.
It was funny; I didn’t know they were open on Sundays.
The place was oddly deserted when the shuttle driver pulled in, and even when I craned my neck around the parking lot, my car was nowhere in sight.
The owner of the place came out to meet me.
“Here you are, Miss,” he said, handing me an unfamiliar key.
I stared at it.
“This isn’t mine,” I said, even as the realization of what was happening grew in the back of my mind.
“With Mr. Thorne’s compliments,” the owner muttered, pointing to a car parked nearby. He looked as uncomfortable as I felt.
It was my car, technically, if my car were about ten years newer, and sleek black with silver trim.
“Same make and model, just a little bit of an upgrade,” said the owner. “Mr. Thorne insisted. Said it was an engagement present.”
I closed my eyes for a moment.
This wasn’t happening. This could not be happening.
“He traded your car in for it,” the owner went on, clearly trying to break the awkward silence. “Knocked a thousand bucks off the asking price.”
“Thank you,” I said, more loudly than I meant to. The owner stepped back, and I hit the automatic unlock button on the key fob. That was new.
Okay, to be fair, the whole car was new.
I slid into the leather seat and stuck the key into the ignition. It was such a familiar action, and yet so strange at the same time. It stank of new car. I rolled the windows down after I pulled out of the parking lot.
So it wasn’t the most extravagant of gifts. To him, it was almost no money at all. But it was more car than I’d ever be able to afford. I’d bought the last one out of the classifieds for a pile of wrinkled cash. I hadn’t ever tried to get financing for something at a dealership, but I had a feeling it would be a disheartening experience.