Chapter Thirteen
Coming to An Understanding
Anthony
I felt like I’d won over royalty. Never in life had I put so much time and effort into a woman that had already made plain her life plans did not include me.
The club would call me crazy.
My brother would probably never let me live it down, if he heard of it.
I plucked the phone from my pocket and slid my thumb across the screen to wake it up.
Thirteen missed calls, twenty-three texts, and two voicemails stared back at me.
“Damn,” Crystal laughed, “You’re a busy and wanted man.”
I snorted and dismissed the main screen. A quick internet search later, and the room was booked.
“Ready?” I tipped my head toward the hotel.
Her pretty, blue eyes swung that way like she had changed her mind, and I swear my breath caught in my throat.
“Yeah,” she finally squeaked, before shifting to get off me.
I helped her to her feet and untangled my legs from the bench.
“So, nine hundred is a week of dayshift work. How much is it going to cost me to trick your roommates into believing you’re pulling night shifts while you’re off being spoiled by me?”
She shook her head and smiled. “Stop it. You’re making me sound like a prostitute.”
The hold I had on her much smaller hand ended abruptly, and my fingers shot up her arm, past her elbow and locked with a vengeance.
Her eyes widened, and the moonlight glittered off the blue, panic filled surface of them.
“You’re not a whore. Nobody is paying for anything more than a dance, because anything more than that, is mine.”
The fear slowly faded, but her lips fumbled like she wasn’t sure of what to say.
“Tell me you’re not fucking anyone else.”
“I’ve never willingly fucked any man, why would I start now?” The emotion in her tone made me instantly believe her.
My grip on her arm softened, and I rubbed the area apologetically.
I took her hand, but her fingers didn’t react to mine. Instead, she just kind of suffered the contact on the way into the lobby. It made me bristle inwardly as I cursed myself and my temper.
“Aviston,” I quietly offered to the man at the desk.
He tapped away at a computer screen while I pulled out my wallet, passing my identification and debit card to him when he glanced back up.
“Ah, yes, thank you.”
A moment later he placed a paper in front of me that asked for the plate and make of the vehicle. I scribbled my details, passed the form back and was promptly rewarded with a key card.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, placing my arm around Crystal. I led her down the hall toward the elevator.
She didn’t say anything, and I wasn’t one for public scenes and all of that, so I left it alone, until I opened the door to our room.
