Chapter Four
Then
When I went to work as a volunteer for Congressman Effings’ campaign, I never dreamed where the experience would lead me.
I started out as a volunteer because I needed something to distract me and keep my mind out of dark places. I was still recovering from a breakup that had fucked my head and heart. Plus, I felt certain I hadn’t adequately dealt with my mom’s death yet, and the last thing I wanted to do was lie in bed alone at night while my brain chattered dark and ugly ideas that couldn’t end well for me.
Hence I put my professional talents as a statistical analyst to good use by volunteering to crunch poll numbers for the congressman. A friend of mine was a campaign volunteer, and I went with him to an event one evening for lack of anything better to do.
And I kept going back. The more I did, I realized it was comforting work that helped me avoid dealing with my own weighty issues in an unhealthy way.
I mean, I didn’t deal with those issues much atall, and you can’t call avoidance healthy, exactly.
At least I wasn’t doing dumbass shit, like hooking up with random guys at bars and getting my heart and soul hurt even worse in a misguided attempt to distract myself.
Or turning to alcohol.
Meanwhile, I made decent money at the brokerage. I had little in the way of monthly expenses, because I took a small, cheap efficiency apartment after selling Mom’s house and put most of the money from her life insurance policy payout into my retirement account.
I’m no idiot.
I also upgraded my ride, meaning I bought my first new-new car for myself. Not even an expensive one. It’s a Honda, and great on gas.
During this period in time, I first meet attorney Liam Michael Davis, when he stops by the congressman’s office one Saturday to speak to the man.
He’s six-five and h-h-haaawwt.
Like,seriouslyhot.
The kind of seriously hot I am trying to avoid in the first place, because I don’t want any trouble in my life.
Except…he’s gay and checking me out. Meaning when he offers to buy me sushi after he concludes his meeting with the congressman, of course I accept.
I even find myself hanging out at the office that day long after I’d planned to leave, just so I’m still there when he’s finished with the congressman.
Maybe I’d halfway convinced myself he would forget about our chat and leave after their meeting ended, but he didn’t. When I heard footsteps at the end of the hallway approaching my office, I forced myself to keep looking at my laptop instead of jumping up to rush to the door to see if it was him.
It was.
And…
From that point on, I know I’m a goner for him if he stays a man of his word and doesn’t screw me over.
See, I know that one of the reasons I want a power-exchange kind of relationship is rooted in the shit I went through as a kid.
Daddy issues, all right? Yeah, label them that. Fine. In this case, that’s totally accurate. I had to be an adult when I was a damned kid. I want someone solid and reliable, dependable. Someone I can put my trust in and let go to.
Plus, I like kinky shit. I want to be taken in hand and spanked. I want to be tied up and fucked.
Unfortunately, all of that still requires a partner who I can trust.
The very first night that Liam and I have dinner, I take a chance and open up to the man a little, now that he’s already received a couple of hints from me about what I’m looking for and he apparently reciprocates.
“I can overlook and even forgive a multitude of sins,” I tell him as I use my chopsticks to dredge a piece of California roll through soy sauce with a healthy amount of wasabi in it. “But cheating isn’t one of them.” This isn’t exactly a romantic discussion. It’s still raw and painful in my heart and memory and it triggers me on several levels.
But it’s a conversation I can’t duck simply because it’s hard and I don’t wanna.
I also refuse to leave it undiscussed and risk getting hurt later because I didn’t make myself clear now.
