THE DEVIL'S AFFECTION

18. THIS IS WHERE I LEAVE YOU

"You're not getting it..." he sighs, wiping down his face with his hand and tossing his head back.

"You don't ask an employee to do their job, you tell them. You hired me for my company — I'm an escort."

"You're not just an escort, Viv!" He snaps, now yelling.

I nearly jump, shocked by his sudden burst of anger. I could feel it building up but I didn't expect him to yell. I certainly did not expect what he said.

I catch my breath after becoming winded by his words. He has gotten confused. He's confused this with an actual relationship and he's caught actual feelings as I had assumed. I know I can't say much because I've gotten confused before too. Even just minutes ago, I got lost in the fantasy, but it's not fair to expect anything from that.

"Don't do that," I say quietly as I get up from my chair, standing back. "You don't get to do that. I'm an employee; that's what you said. This is strictly professional."

"Nothing about this is professional, Viv." His voice is quiet but tense.

"You don't even know my real name, that's how far from real this relationship is."

"So, none of this meant anything to you?"

"It meant a job. It meant a roof over my head and food to eat. It means clothes on my body and a way off of the streets."

"You know that's not true." His face twists into something of hurt and anger. "What about that night that you let me touch you, hm? Did that mean nothing? Was that professional to you?" His volume builds with each question, but I'm not scared of him.

"Sex is my business, Hanes. I was a prostitute for years. I may have called myself an escort and I hate to admit it, but at the end of the day, I was a prostitute."

He pants in anger as he looks down at his lap before looking back up at me. I don't mean to hurt him, but this is the reality of our situation. I'm nothing but a distraction for him.

I'm the one woman he can buy.
He's one of several men that I'll allow to have me.

"I know you're not that cold. You can't feel nothing."

"My feelings in this don't matter, they never have. It's not about what I feel, it's about what I have to do to get by."

He stands up too, now, and I step back. His tall frame close to mine within the confined space of this desk.

"So," he steps closer, causing me to take another small step back. "You're telling me that you felt—feel nothing? Nothing for our situation? Nothing for me?"

"I feel nothing."

He stands up straight, a scowl on his face as he steps back. Now, I stand straight too.

"I don't believe you."

"I was about to leave." I finally admit and watch his eyes grow wide at my admission. "Today, I decided that I needed to go. I don't trust you and I hate sitting in that hotel room alone all day."

"You were going to leave? After all of this, you were going to leave?" His voice is low, almost demonic.

I nod and swallow hard, afraid of what he might do.

"You say you were 'about to' as if you've changed your mind. So, what are you going to do? Are you going to stay or are you going to leave?"

With his eyes glaring down at me, I feel as intimidated as ever. Yet, I stand my ground.

"I want to go. I hate this arrangement. I was beginning to think that maybe I got lucky, having this deal that we have. But I realized that this isn't what I want."

He leans in closer again, stepping forward as he does. He puts his fingers down on the desk behind me, an arm on either side of me, trapping me in the corner. With my ass pressed up against the desk, I can't move any further back.

"Then what do you want, Viv?" He asks quietly, in a raspy voice. "What is going to get you to stay?"

I take a deep, slightly-shaky breath. I barely know what I want, but I know that this isn't it. What we have right now is draining me and spinning me in circles. It's exhausting.

"I don't want to be put up in some hotel room alone all day. I don't want to be forced to go out to these dinners when you're angry and cruel. I don't want to be treated like I'm your toy. And I don't want to be ignored." I complain, finishing my rant out of breath.

A devious smirk rises on his face with my last sentence. I don't want to be ignored — that slipped out.

"None of that is answering my question, dear." He raises his eyebrows, his stare darting between one of my eyes to the other. "I'm asking, what do you want?"

My heart is racing, my head is overcrowded with contradicting thoughts and I'm trapped between Hanes and this desk. I want to scream. I don't want to leave. I don't want to go back to the streets. I also can't stay in this with the way it is. I'm being paid to sit pretty when I'm alone 90% of the time. I'm sick of being a body pillow — I want a connection. I also know that a man like Hanes is not one I need a connection with. Still, I find myself craving his attention.

With his face inches from mine and his eyes lingering from my eyes down to my lips and back up in a repeated cycle, I'm stuck. I either admit my weakness or leave without what I know, deep down, I want.

"I don't trust you."

"Not the question." He retorts.

"You upset me."

"Not the question."

"I hate you."

"Not the question."

With my frustration boiling over, my mind out of excuses and my body unwilling to keep away, I give in.

I grab his face and pull him deep into a kiss that felt like the biggest release I've ever had. He holds the back of my head with one hand and pulls me closer by the small of my back with the other.

Fuck, I hate myself for this but, goddammit, I couldn't hold out any longer.