And let’s not forget the little detail that she agreed to go on a date with myclientafter she stood in the doorway of my office and watched me masturbate. I saw the way her cheeks had pinked, the pebble of her nipples against her maid uniform and the desire behind her eyes.
And yes, I know what I’m doing is wrong. That I booked this appointment solely so she wouldn’t meet up with Rebel tonight because I’m fucked up in the head. But that didn’t stop me from doing it.
And do I care that I’m cock-blocking one of my clients? Not even a little bit.
Rosie wipes a tear from her eye, trying to catch her breath. “So, what exactly did you put in the appointment inquiry? That you have trouble getting it up and need to talk with someone? Why not just, I don’t know,ask her outlike a normal person?”
I scoff. Trouble getting it up isdefinitelynot my problem. In fact, I proved that to myself three times this morning, all whilethinking about her smooth skin and imagining how it would feel under my teeth.
“I have asked her out. Sort of.”
Rosie’s jaw drops again, this time for an entirely different reason. “You asked her out on a date?”
“I told her I wanted to give this thing a shot.”
She scoffs. “Men. You need to be more specific.”
“I can’t see how much clearer I could be. She didn’t say yes. She said she’d think about it and then didn’t reply for days.”
“Ouch.”
“Ah, I love having that rubbed in my face.”
She gives me a small, pitied smile. “Sorry. But do you really think using her job to get her to respond was the right approach?”
No. Not at all. But I’m desperate.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Uh, why?” her brows knit together.
“Because she was meeting up with Rebel XOXO about some job he had for her or some shit.” I wave my hands and take another sip of my drink.
“Wait, what the hell? So, you scheduled a therapy session with her just to get her to cancel a date with your client?”
“It wasn’t a date,” I grit out, though I’m not sure I believe that. Knowing Rebel, he was going to try to sleep with her.
“Does she even know it’s you?”
I rub my temples, already regretting telling her. “I used a code name... said it was a husband and wife...The Spinsters.”
That sets her off again. She laughs so hard she nearly falls off the couch.
“Alright, you can leave now.” I glare at her.
She gasps dramatically. “What, you don’t want me to stick around and pretend to be your fake wife in therapy? Mrs. Spinster?”
I walk over, grab her by the elbow, and gently usher her toward the elevator doors. “No, Rosie. Go home.”
But she stops in the doorway, suddenly serious. “Cain, seriously—what’s your plan when she realizes that it’s you? This isn’t like you. Renting out a hotel room, booking a fake therapy session, chasing after a woman? You don’t evendate. You’re into her. Why not just tell her how you feel? And not ‘I want to see where this goes,’but that you’re really into her and then put in the actual effort to prove that to her?”
I sigh, leaning against the doorframe. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Rosie. My life—our job—it doesn’t exactly screamI have time for a relationship. And she’s not part of this world. She wouldn’t get the things I see, the things I have to do for my clients. Sometimes it’s borderline unethical, sometimes worse.” I pause, rubbing at the back of my neck.
“To be honest with you,” my voice drops because this isn’t what we do. We don’t normally get this vulnerable with each other, but something tells me I need to tell Rosie how I’m feeling, “I don’t feel like I’m right for her. Deep down inside, I know I’m not worthy of being in a relationship with someone so full of… joy. And integrity.”
Rosie’s eyes soften as she squeezes my arm because she gets it. Our careers are cutthroat, and she knows as much as I do, there’s no free time in our schedules and sometimes we have to make difficult decisions that don’t make sense to the public.
Relationships we’ve had in the past fizzle out because who wants to be married to someone who’s already dating their job and the clients that come with them?
