Slow Burn(86)

    I didn’t say anything. Everything was starting to spin.

    “It’s only that I missed you, too,” he said. “You were different than a lot of the other girls I’ve been with. With you, I was pretty sure I didn’t matter.”

    “What?” I said. I tried to sit up straighter.

    “It was refreshing,” he said. “You weren’t... clingy.”

    “Seriously?” I said. “You like me because I’m not into you?”

    “I like you because you’re wild and crazy and willing to try anything,” he said. “Well. You were. You’re different now. Like you said.”

    “I’m sorry.”

    “Don’t be,” he said. “I’m a big boy. I can handle it.” He gave me the champagne bottle. “But it does cause a little bit of a problem for you.”

    “Problem?” I set the bottle down on the floor. “I don’t want any more of that.”

    He stood up, surveying himself in one of the mirrors. “Well, you wanted to crash with me.”

    “I thought you said that was okay,” I said.

    He shrugged. “I don’t mean to sound selfish, babe, but what would really be in it for me?”

    My jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious. You’re not going to let me stay with you because I’m not sleeping with you?”

    “It’s not like that,” he said. “I just made a decision based on a faulty assumption. Now that you’ve given me all the data, I’ve concluded that it just doesn’t seem like a prospect that interests me.”

    Great. I buried my face in my hands. “You jackass.”

    He laughed. “Sometimes, yeah. But you always liked that about me.”

    I lifted my face. He was grinning. I took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, fine, I’ll sleep with you, just don’t—”

    “No, don’t be silly, Leigh. I told you it wasn’t like that. I don’t want you to sleep with me if you don’t want to. What would be the fun in that? I can find willing girls easily enough.”

    “So, you’re going to kick me out.”

    “You’re so dramatic,” he said.

    I wanted to cry. I really did. But that feeling from before came back—that numb, frozen feeling, like I had no real emotions. So I only got to my feet. I stumbled a little. I’d had a good bit of champagne. “I have nowhere to go and no money, Axel.”

    He raised his eyebrows. “You really are in trouble.”

    I shook my head. “You really are a jackass.”

    “I don’t see the problem, babe. Your dad isn’t my dad. I know he doesn’t have that much money. But he wouldn’t let you starve or live on the streets either.”

    “He’s dead,” I said. I thought I’d cry then. Admitting that would make me cry. But nothing happened. I was ice.

    Axel winced. He took a swig of champagne. “That’s tough.”

    “And you still won’t help?”

    “Well, you see,” he said. “That almost makes it worse. Because now you’re a charity case. If I let you stay with me, you’d probably never leave. You don’t have any money at all?”

    “No,” I said dully. He was right, though. He was horrible, but he was being honest. I had nothing to offer him, and I would burden him if I stayed with him. “Please, just one night. In the morning, I’ll figure out—”

    “Nothing’s going to be different in the morning,” he said. “You’re still going to be in this pathetic situation.”

    “You’re going to make me sleep on the street,” I said.

    “I’m not making you do anything,” he said. “I’m just not taking you home. Your life is your business.” He considered. “I guess you’ll have to get a job or something. That’s what people do, isn’t it?”

    A job? Like I could just— I looked at him sharply. “You could hire me.”

    “Hire you?”

    “At your club,” I said. “You could do that. It wouldn’t hurt you.”