11
Darcy
Hot water pelteddown over my head and along my back as I leaned my forehead against the cool shower tiles. They were a shocking white that probably had to be bleached professionally, which I knew because there was only one company in the area that handled those types of chemicals, and they’d been to the Courtesan.
What Brooks didn’t get was that I couldn’t stop thinking about work, even here.
I sighed and shuddered as I turned and the water hit the sensitive skin of my abused asscheeks, driving the rest of my thoughts completely out of my head for a few minutes until I shifted. Brooks was strong and hadn’t held back—or maybe he had restrained himself. Ifthatwas the case, I didn’t want to ever actually piss him off. I reached down and let out a long breath as I held my soft cock, remembering how hard I’d come with him drilling into my ass. My groin and stomach muscles had ached with the strain of needing relief, right before I’d sprayed my load. Swallowing, I ran my hand down my abs and kneaded below my belly button.
FuckingLevi. I’d known he didn’t like me, but to go through my things? I breathed through some unpleasant feelings slinking around in my chest, and a stab of something that reminded me of fear had me sucking in a breath before I spun around and picked up the shampoo. I dumped some of the coconut-scented gel in my hand, then lathered my hair to give myself a reason to stay in the shower longer.
What if Brooks had believed Levi in the end? He could still change his mind. After all, who was I to him? I loved my mother, but I was her son, there was no denying it in looks or occupation. People didn’t hold the word of a whore in very high esteem, and in some ways I was worse—whore adjacent. I’d been called a pimp to my face by an angry guest more than once. Another stab of that awful feeling raced through me, and I scrubbed my head harder.
What did I care? Really, did it matter if Brooks thought I was cheating on him or not? We weren’t actually dating. No, I’d been sold, then kidnapped. He was more like a pirate than a business owner. Right down to his beard and smirk.
But it had felt romantic last night. We’d had dinner. He’d been sweet with me. I scowled as the water washed away the suds from my hair and stomped at the swirl of soap going down the drain.
Anger scrabbled through me and had goose bumps standing up on my arms. No, it didn’t matter what Brooks thought of me, and I shouldn’t care, but for some reasonI did. I hated being accused of something I didn’t do because there were plenty of awful, immoral, and illegal things I had done in my lifetime. I would be damned if I was going to feel… horrible over something as stupid as not wanting to get a sex worker in trouble.
I really had done the right thing, in my opinion,which was the only one that counted.
But it didn’t matter what I’d done or how I felt about it, did it? This was all about what Brooks believed and how he felt. He’d told me he had the right to punish me, and then I’d happily let him do it. It felt good to allow him to make that choice for me. It felt good to think about some wobbly future where I could have brought myself to turn to Brooks and tell him what was happening, if not in the massage room, then right outside. What would it be like to have someone take that sort of interest in me as a person? In my well-being?
I hated the uncertainty of it all. I hated knowing that the man who’d just fucked me until I unloaded my nuts might decide I wasn’t worth his time because of a few words from Levi, that jealous little shit.
It was starting to seem as if I liked Brooks more than I should, all things considered, and that was probably going to bite me on the ass. I sighed and dumped conditioner on my palm. The rich scent was soothing as I worked it through my hair, but that quiver in my stomach didn’t go away as I rinsed it out. I haphazardly ran bodywash over myself using soap on my fingers. My wrists ached and reminded me that Brooks had taken the time to tie me up. He’d taken a lot of care and effort with me, and it bugged me. This short time I’d spent with Brooks had been amazing, but at the end of the day, I still couldn’t see how it would work.
Brooks had his company—and Levi, who would likely whisper in Brooks’ ear about any perceived offenses from here on out. Anything I did would be scrutinized, every flaw I had enlarged until it was a hanging offense. I’d seen jealousy. I’d seen wives march into the Courtesan after cheating husbands. I’d seen professionals turned lovers, who had to leave the business, or at least the premises.
What would I have left, at the end of all that mess and bitterness? I would have the Courtesan, which might literally be on fire at the moment and I would never know. Because Brooks had destroyed my phone, presumably with Mother’s blessing. Groaning, I rinsed off the last of the soap, slapped off the water knob, and stepped out while I was still dripping-wet.
Brooks had a nice, legitimate business. I snatched a towel off the rack.
What did I have? A fucking brothel that I didn’t even own. I made a salary, but I had no idea how much. I didn’t even do my taxes—Mother had an accountant handle everything, and I just signed whatever she put in front of me. I had no need to spend my money on anything.
I didn’t even carry a debit card. I never needed one. I never paid bills or bought anything.
Brooks had his medical issues, and while they didn’t make me want him any less, they worried me. I hated the idea that something might happen to him. Right now I worried that the reason he might be taking so long wasn’t something innocent like an attendant who didn’t know where to find extra blankets, but rather because he was having a seizure.
Brooks’ issues were one more thing to stress about.
But maybe it was good that I cared enough to do it?
Groaning to myself, I gave up trying to decide anything about my life and stepped out of the bathroom into the bedroom. The cabin was too quiet. Brooks must still be on his errand for new bedding.
My face heated as I glanced at the bed and the noticeable wet spot on the sheets. The ropes still laid there beside it. Why I’d pulled back the comforter before we started, I didn’t know. Shaking my head at myself, I went to my bags and sighed. I hated that they’d been gone through, and everything was sitting in the bottom of the wardrobe, open. I snatched out a pair of khakis Mother had found who knew where, and decided on borrowing one of Brooks’ white T-shirts because they were softer and larger than anything I owned—comfy. I pulled the shirt over my head and sniffed. The collar smelled faintly of him—fabric softener and something that was just Brooks.
I brushed my hands down the front of the shirt. It wasn’t very late, and we hadn’t had dinner yet, so I didn’t feel right dressing for bed. I wasn’t sure, but I thought he’d said something about a restaurant. Shrugging, I went downstairs, and even though Brooks hadn’t been happy about it last time, I went to the kitchen and picked up the phone. Holding my breath, I dialed the Courtesan, my gut tightening with every second that passed. The line rang and rang, and the longer that went on, my stomach plummeted to hang out with my toes. What in the ever-loving fuck were they doing? I tapped my fingers on the wall and bit at the corner of my mouth.
Finally someone picked up the phone with an out-of-breath and unprofessional, “Hello?”
“Who is this?” I snapped. “Is that the way you’re supposed to answer the phone?” There was a pause, and then a low, masculine laugh drifted into my ears and I knew it was—“Romeo, why the hell are you answering the phone at the desk?”
There was a light, amused hum that carried through the line and raised my blood pressure. “Do you really want to know, since the… uh, Ms. Winters says you’re on vacation?” In the background I heard the gentle buzz of conversation, so at least the building had not actually caught fire.
“Why did Mother tell everyone that?”
He snickered, and I wanted to reach through the phone to slap him. “Because people kept trying to call your cell, which you’re apparently not answering anyway, rather than go to her. Everyone wanted to hear their marching orders from you. It’s plain old weird with you not here.” I could tell he was settling in to chat because he was a gossip and snoop, and it wasn’t that he was a bad worker, he simply couldn’t stand not knowing everything about everyone around him. It made him good at the customer side of his job, and horrible at the rest of it.
