“Good morning, uh…” I swallow. “Are we back to ‘my lord’ this morning, or—”
“Elliot will do,” he says, sounding almost amused. “When we’re like this, at any rate.”
I relax into the snuggle at that. I couldalmostpretend we’re actually…together. That heismy Dom, that this will be the first of many mornings waking up sore and satisfied. For the moment, I decide, I’ll pretend that it is. It makes me too sad when I think about the fact that I’m leaving today.
Again.
But it’s too late; work has gotten into my head. I wonder how much Brandon has fucked up without me there to keep an eagle eye on him. I wonder how much work I’m going to have to catch up on to make sure that meeting goes off without a hitch…
“Now,” Elliot says, “we must discuss arrangements for your next visit.”
I turn around in his arms to face him, grateful again for the mask. “Uh, what arrangements?”
“I’d like you to come back again.” He says it like it’s a given, as though I couldn’t possibly have any objections. But as far as I’m concerned, his self-centered shit is rapidly losing the cuteness it once had.
Plus Ihatebeing reminded that this is just an arrangement.
It’s not like we met each other in a club, or online, and decided to get to know each other ourselves.
No, this wasarranged—a convenience for him, an experience for me. That reality is that there’s no rich, aristocratic Dom looking to put a collar on me.
The reality is thathe’sleaving LA, andI’llbe left on the shelf.
“No, Elliot,” I tell him. “I can’t come back. I’ve had an amazing time with you, and I enjoyed myself—I hope you did, too—but I have to get back to my real life.”
A tiny crease appears between his brows. “Yourreallife?”
“Yeah. My job, my apartment, my friends…” I give a tight shrug. “My real life.”
“How isthisnot your real life?”
I stare at him, wondering if he’s being deliberately dumb, or if he really means it.
I think he really means it.
“Well, for one thing, I’m not an employee here. You know that.”
“I know that youcouldbe, if you wanted to be. You have great potential.”
I give a sharp chuckle. “Idon’twant to be employed here. I have acareer, Elliot, and I’m not…” I leave off with a sigh.
“You’re not interested in me,” he guesses, moving away in the bed. “I see. I beg your pardon, I’ll leave you at once—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I snap, lunging after him before he can leave the bed. I grab his bicep and he stops—in shock, I think, the idea that anyone would ever dare to seize him like that. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant that I never intended to be here more than a weekend originally, and I can’t take any more time off work. I likeyou, Elliot. A lot, actually.” My voice dips as I say it, and I try to get hold of myself. “But I have other responsibilities.”
“Whatother responsibilities?”
Much more of this sulking, and I’m going to shove a pacifier in his mouth. “Uh, well, I have alife. I have bills to pay, and rent, and—”
“For goodness’ sake, if it’s justmoney, that’s easily solved.”
Is he suggesting what Ithinkhe’s suggesting? I sit up, furious. “I’m going to give you a second to rephrase that.”
He stares at me in puzzlement, until it occurs to him how it sounded, and he goes a little pink. “I didn’t mean…I only meant that Zee and Niklaus would pay you a very generous stipend if you—”
“What’s thepoint?” I snap. “You’releavingafter the masquerade anyway. Listen, I never had any illusions about what my time here was about, but you seem to want…” I trail off. He’s being ridiculous, and he looks like he knows it, his cheeks red and his eyes downcast. “We had fun, Elliot, but there’s no…futurehere.”
His lips part, and he takes a breath, but then says nothing.
