I didn’t believe in fairy tales; I never had. They were nice to read, as a child—to imagine that a handsome prince would swoop in from who-knows-where and rescue you from the bitter dissolution of your parents’ marriage, your father’s alcoholism, and your disapproving relatives. But then you got older, and you learned that nothing good happened to you unless you fought for it tooth and nail. I was still fighting. Carter was no Prince Charming. I would rescue myself.
I leaned my head against the window and watched lower Manhattan pass by as we headed for the Battery Tunnel. I would have to tell Carter that we couldn’t spend any more time together. There was no point in letting myself get attached to him. Sooner or later, he would realize that I couldn’t offer him what he needed. It was better to make a clean break now, when we were still relative strangers.
I didn’t know anything about men, or about sex, and the fact that Carter was a rich, handsome, charismatic man only made things that much worse. I should have experimented with someone harmless when I had the chance—like that guy at my first job, who’d been so infatuated with me. I couldn’t even remember his name anymore. He would have been perfect: I could have gotten all of this out of the way, the nerves, the butterflies, the awkwardness. The terror.
Losing your virginity to a billionaire probably wasn’t the way to go.
I fished my phone out of my purse and dialed Sadie’s number. She didn’t work on Saturdays, and I really needed to hear her voice.
She answered after a few rings and said, “You are out of your mind if you’re calling me before noon on the weekend!”
I grinned helplessly, unable to keep feeling sorry for myself. Sadie’s energy practically radiated out of my phone. She was always able to make me feel better. “Sorry,” I said. “Man emergency.”
“Man? Man emergency?” she said. I heard rustling in the background, and then she said, “I’m up. I’m making coffee. Tell me everything.”
I told her the whole story, minus a few intimate details. I told her about waking up in Carter’s bed that morning, and our awkward conversation over coffee, and the way he pushed me against the door of the car and kissed me until I couldn’t breathe. I told her about how I was going to see him again the next day, and how it would be too easy to let myself fall into his orbit, and how I was scared.
“Oh girl,” she said, when I was finished. “You are so screwed.”
I nodded sadly, even though she couldn’t see me. I knew I was.
Chapter 8
I dressed up on Sunday.
I always dressed up for work, but that day I made a special effort. I wore the black wiggle dress that Sadie had strong-armed me into buying. My body was cut pretty straight up and down, but the dress hugged my body so snugly that it made me look like I had curves for days. I left my hair down and curled it at the ends to give it some extra volume and make it coil lushly over my shoulders. I sat at my mirror with liquid eyeliner and makeup remover until my winged liner looked the same on both sides. I even wore lipstick.
Examining my reflection in the full-length mirror, even I could admit that I looked hot.
It was my battle armor. I was going to tell Carter, in no uncertain terms, that it was over. I needed to look flawless and untouchable on the outside, because maybe then I would feel the same way on the inside.
Three separate men asked for my number on the subway, so maybe I didn’t look quite as untouchable as I’d hoped.
I got to the club only a few minutes before 4, and it was already bustling with waitresses and dancers. A few of the girls greeted me as I put down my things, but everyone was already so busy that nobody stopped to chat. That was fine with me. I wasn’t really in the mood for chatting.
The door to room 4 was slightly open. I went over and poked my head into the room. Carter was there, as I’d known he would be, but he wasn’t looking at his phone as he usually was. Instead, he was holding a glass of amber-colored liquid and gazing blankly at the wall.
I walked noiselessly into the room, my heels muffled by the thick carpet. I didn’t know what I was doing, or why, or what I was feeling. I could have stayed behind the bar and avoided Carter all night. But here I was, drawn to him inexorably, a moth beelining for the flame.
He turned his head as I entered his peripheral vision. For a moment, he stared at me the same way he’d been staring at the wall, devoid of all expression, but then he seemed to realize who had disturbed him, and smiled. “Regan. You’re here.”
“I told you I would be,” I said. I stood in front of him, hands clasped. “Are you having company tonight?” My heart hammered in my chest. I was determined not to let him see the effect he had on me. He already had too much power over me.