"I'm not going to take no for an answer." He stepped over to her and kissed her on the lips. "I need to be there, and I want you by my side."
"Please, I'll make up for not going next weekend."
Somehow, she'd come up with some way to pay him back. She'd already convinced him, although reluctantly, to let her stay at her house during the week and return to him the following weekend. In fact, to prove he'd compromise, he'd already taken her clothes back to the house.
"If you told me the truth about why you're so against going, I'd consider it." He peered at her. "But I don't believe you're so exhausted that you can't stand by my side for an hour. End of discussion."
"But—"
"No more." He scooped up her hand. "It'll take an hour, and then I'll drive you back to your house for the night."
She sighed. "Why is it so important to you that I go?"
Without missing a beat, he said, "Because you calm me."
She reached out and squeezed his hand. His simple admission won her over. Now, she only needed to climb off the edge of the imaginary building she clung to at the thought of running into Curt Harrington again.
"You'll have to bring me back here because my car is in your driveway," she muttered.
"Not anymore. I had Jack deliver it to your house while you were putting on that pretty dress." He walked away from her.
She followed. "He steals cars, Serge."
He looked over his shoulder. "Not mine, and not yours."
She chewed the inside of her lip. How he managed to keep both his lives separate amazed her.
She walked with him to the garage. Most of the time, she forgot he was a rich investor. She even forgot that he'd survived living on the street.
Granted, for the last two days, he'd kept her busy when she wasn't working. She'd had so much sex that she could barely walk across the floor without the gentle reminder of having him inside of her.
To her surprise, knowing him, the sex was not abusive or even kinky. No spanking, no scarves, no whips, no handcuffs, and although he was bossy, she sort of liked him taking control.
She had enough to do at the shelter. It was nice to hand over the decisions to someone else when she was away from work.
This weekend filled the emptiness inside of her. Literally— her well was full.
Tonight wasn't part of their agreement, though. Accompanying him pushed her out of her comfort zone. She ran a homeless shelter and had nothing in common with his business associates. His determination to convince her to join him made her feel like arm candy.
Sulking, she sat in the BMW and stared out the window. Forcing her to go with him to the meeting felt like punishment. As if she'd done something wrong.
"Are you mad at me?" she asked.
"No." He flipped on the radio. "Disappointed."
She turned to him. Her stomach ached. "Because I don't want to go?"
"You don't trust me." He shifted gears and turned onto Hamilton Street. "I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. You need more time."
"I do trust you," she murmured.
"Not yet, you don't." He glanced at her. "In my line of work, I often have meetings. I don't particularly enjoy them, but going is necessary. Tonight, the meeting is private, and I want you there. It's a simple request that you should have no problem fulfilling."
She blew out her breath. He knew nothing about her, but what she wanted him to see. Guilt made her stomach churn. She wrapped her arms around her middle and gazed out the window.
"Fine," she whispered. "Don't tell me I didn't warn you if anything weird happens tonight."
He placed his hand on her thigh. "As long as everyone understands you belong to me, we won't have any problems."
