“Yes?” he asks again.
“I, uh, was wondering if there was a WiFi password?” I ask.
“No internet,” he says.
I pause. “No internet?” I repeat.
“I was instructed to keep you off the internet.”
I frown, disappointed. What the hell am I supposed to do all day then?
“Okay,” I say. “Thank you. Are there any books you could bring up?”
“Of course,” he says. “Will that be all?”
“Uh, yes. Thank you.”
The phone disconnects and I flop back onto the bed.
“No internet,” I groan to myself and roll over onto my side.
Jenkins brings up a box full of books not too long later, but he doesn’t stick around. He simply places the box outside of my door, knocks twice, and then leaves. I pull the box inside and start fishing through it. They’re mostly trashy romances, but that’s good enough.
I spend most of the day reading. It’s boring and slow, but it’s all I have to do. Eventually I figure out how to work the television, so I switch from reading to watching TV and back again all day long. Jenkins brings me lunch and dinner, but that’s the only human contact I get all day.
The food is good, so at least there’s that. After dinner, around eight that night, I start getting really antsy.
I haven’t heard from Ethan all day. I know he’s a busy man and probably works late, but still, I thought maybe I’d see him more. He hasn’t even touched me yet, although it hasn’t been a full day. Maybe he’s just easing himself into it, working up to it. Maybe he just likes a little suspense.
I don’t feel suspenseful. I just feel bored.
Eventually, midnight rolls around, and I’m exhausted. I turn off the television and toss my book aside before changing into pajamas and climbing into bed.
I stare up at the ceiling, disappointed. I thought that being an escort was going to be more exciting than this. So far, it’s more like a boring vacation. I want to make Ethan happy, not just sit around in this room alone and read books.
Then again, this is what he told me to do. He wants me to stay in this room and only leave with his permission. If that makes him happy, knowing that I’m safe in here, well, then I guess it’s what I have to do.
Still, I’m disappointed. I want to see him again. Maybe that’s silly, but I want to see his cocky smile and his handsome face. I want to see the muscles under his perfectly fitting suit. I want him to take me, let me please him in the way that I know I’m supposed to.
Instead, I’m stuck in here. His little pet. I frown at the nickname.
I don’t really like it, but I don’t really hate it, either. It just makes me feel strange. My heart beats fast and part of me likes the idea of being a pretty thing sitting in a cage for him, though the other part of me doesn’t want to be kept.
As I start to drift off to sleep, the phone starts to ring. It’s sudden and it pulls me from sleep with a start. I crawl over to the side and pull it off the receiver on the third ring.
“Hello?” I answer, glancing at the clock. It’s around one in the morning.
“Hello, pet,” he says.
I smile despite myself. “I was wondering if I’d hear from you.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t visited you today.”
“That’s okay.”
“How are you liking your stay so far?”
“Good,” I say. “The food is amazing.”
“You can thank Michelle for that, my cook. You’ll meet her soon.”
“I look forward to it.” I hold the receiver between my ear and my shoulder, twirling the cord between my fingers.
“I’m stuck at work, but I’m thinking about you,” he says softly. “What are you wearing right now?”
I smile to myself. “Black bra and matching panties,” I say, which is true. Though I’m also wearing a white t-shirt and soft jogging pants.
“That’s all?” he asks. “I doubt you sleep in just that.”
“Who says I’m sleeping?” I ask, suddenly getting an idea.
“It’s late,” he says.
“I was up thinking of you,” I answer.
He pauses. “What were you thinking?” he asks.
“I was thinking about your hands on my body,” I say. “I’m your pet, but you haven’t even stroked me yet,” I say.
Another pause. “And you want me to stroke you?” he asks.
“Yes,” I whisper. “As soon as you’re home. I’m so bored without you.”
“I’m sure you are.” He pauses again and I can feel my heart hammering in my chest. “I’ll see you soon, pet. Sleep tight.”
He hangs up suddenly and I’m left staring at the phone, not sure what just happened.
I tried to be sexy for him and he just hangs up on me. Like he wasn’t interested in it at all. I hang the phone up and collapse back into bed, sighing.
Maybe I suck at this. If I can’t figure out what he wants and soon, I’m going to screw it all up, and I can’t afford that.
This is my last attempt. It’s all or nothing for me right now, and I can’t give up. One bad phone call won’t change anything.
I’m going to make this man happy whether he wants me to or not.
7
Ethan
I have to force myself to go to my last meeting, even though it’s one of the most important meetings of the day.
All I want to do is go home to Aria. I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning. I slept in my office again last night and because of some stupid emergency, I couldn’t make it home all day. I called her briefly last night, and again this afternoon, but that was it.
She sounds bored. I have to admit, I figured it might take a little longer for her to get sick of her little vacation. Maybe I’ll have to punish her for letting me know that she’s bored.
Then again, I want her to be herself, so that can’t fly. I’ll punish her still, but it’ll have to be for some other reason.
I smile to myself, imagining how I’ll punish her as I walk into the restaurant. This last meeting is with Richard Taylor, one of the most notorious businessmen in the city. He’s a real estate guy, and I want to buy out one of his buildings to use as my new corporate headquarters once all this merger stuff goes through. But he’s hard to work with and has an awful reputation for being involved with some shady ventures.
I spot Richard sitting in a booth table toward the back. I walk directly toward him. It’s interesting how being a good businessperson very often means you’re a bad regular person. The sort of thing business demands from you usually means you’re a hard person to be around in normal circumstances.
Richard Taylor is no exception to this rule. As I approach, he frowns and checks his watch, almost as if I’m late. I’m not, of course, but he’ll make me feel like I am just because he showed up early.
“Ethan,” he says, standing, and we shake hands.
“Richard. Good to see you.”
“You too. Sit down, have a drink.”
“Nothing for me tonight,” I say, waving off the waitress as she approaches. “I have to get home.”