I gulp down the ball of emotion clogged at the back of my throat. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“I have much nicer things I want to say to you. There isn’t enough hours in a day.”
I stifle a yawn as the clock on my bedside table flashes, telling me it’s midnight.
“Are you tired? I can go if you want to get some rest. It sounds like it’s been a long day for you.”
It’s not tiredness, it’s more like chronic fatigue. That and the tender breasts and increased urination, not to mention the nausea I’m experiencing, my hormones are running rampant. “Chatting with you is the highlight of my week.” Saying it out loud makes me realise how much of a loser I actually am.
Since when did chatting to a man on a live become the highlight of my week? I’m tired of sitting around waiting for any scraps of affection he’s willing to give, and if these symptoms I’m experiencing are what I think, I need to force him to come out of the shadows so we can have a proper relationship. I can’t keep doing this.
My fingers stroke the velvety petals of the red flowers on my nightstand. “When are you going to let me see you?”
He shifts in his seat, creaking his leather office chair. “I told you. You can’t.”
My eyes close when he says the words I knew were coming. “I want you to spend the night with me. I want to wake up in your arms. We can’t have a proper relationship like this. I want more.”
He lets out a long breath behind his mask. “I want that too. Believe me, I want nothing more than to have a life with you.”
“Then why can’t we?” My heart sinks to my stomach. It’s like every other relationship I’ve ever had. “Nevermind. I understand. I’m just a good time girl. Someone to have a bit of fun with after dark.”
He growls into the mic. “That’s not what this is. Any man who doesn’t want to date you is a fucking idiot.” He leans back with another exhale and runs a hand over his masked face. “And I’m the biggest one of them all. If I could find a way for us to be together, I would. I promise you, nightingale. I’d do anything to have you as my wife.”
My eyes widen. I swallow the words I was about to say, leaving only one on my tongue. “Wife?” I was only talking about dating the man and now he’s talking about marriage. And I thought I was mental.
“Yes. Wife. I’m doing this to protect you as much as me.”
A whirl of emotions swell in my eyes. “I’d love that too. It would be a dream to have a true partner. But this pseudo life we’re living now is too painful. I need all or nothing.”
Inhaling the floral bouquet gives me the courage I need. If he cares about me like he says he does, then the next card I play should force his hand. “We can’t keep doing this. I promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with a man who’s unobtainable again. You were never real when we were just talking on the phone, but the minute you broke into my home, I developed feelings for you. I can’t do this anymore, sir. I have to protect my heart.”
“I’m sorry.” He taps his gloved fingers against his wooden desk. “I’ll send you the money I owe you.”
“I don’t want any money.” His words are like a knife carving out a piece of my heart. “These last few weeks haven’t been about money for me.”
“And I’m not paying you for chatting with me. I just want to make sure you’re okay financially. If you need anything, you tell me. Promise me.”
“I will.” Tears threaten my eyes. Is this goodbye? Is he not going to fight for me? For us? I thought giving him an ultimatum would make him step up.
“Will you do this with anyone else?”
I wipe a tear as it drips onto my cheek. “No, I don’t think so.”
“I’m still going to send you some money. This is for you. Not your brother. And I don’t want you on this app. It’s dangerous. You don’t know who you’re getting involved with.”
A small smile pushes my cheeks up, forcing more tears to drip from my lashes. “Like you?”
“Exactly.”
“It doesn’t have to be the end. Come over. We can talk face to face.” I plead with him one last time, before I leave the call, knowing my plan could backfire, and I may never see him again.
Barks make me jump. “That bloody dog.” I wipe my face with a sigh.
Sarge straightens in his chair, tapping his keyboard, his head turning to the side, as if looking at another monitor. “Someone’s there.”
“It might be my brother. Please don’t be mad, I’m all he has.” I stand from the bed and grab a dressing gown.
“That’s not your brother.”
