Page 47 of Toy Shop

“You’re the anonymous donor.”

Disappointment is a bitter sentiment. Its taste is that of old homemade medicine, the one Mom thrust into my mouth after I resisted trying due to the foul smell. Another thing about it is, it tended to demolish any other decent taste I had on my tongue.

I flop on the old wooden chair at the dining room table when he doesn’t confirm nor deny, opening my computer. “I’m pulling my application.”

“Don’t you dare, Nola Vickers.” His dominant command affects me little to none.

“You lied to me.” The mystery charity website pops up on my browser. I move my cursor to the red Cancel Application button, letting it hover. “You said you’d honor my safeword.”

“I am honoring it. I initiated the charity, yes. I am the sole and only donor, that’s also a truth. But this is where my role in it ends.”

My heart is inclined to hope. My head, carrying the lessons of past mistakes, is far less lenient. “I find it hard to believe you’ll be giving a shit ton of money without any pull on the final decision-making process.”

“You might’ve not heard about me or known me for long, so I’m not offended. I will, however, prove to you I’m a man of my word.” Around a minute of silence passes. It’s the time I need to process what he said, to believe in him. “Check your messages.”

I click on the text notification he sent me. In it there’s a PDF file of the end of a contract claiming, The donor of the funds wishes to remain anonymous. He hereby signs away his rights to partake in the selection process at any stage of the way…

There’s a signature at the bottom.

Chad Chadwick.

“You see?” The tenderness in him would normally verge on ruining me.

Except, I’m too intrigued to get emotional. “Now that we’re together, I have to know what’s with the alias?”

He lets out a short laugh, and I picture his smirk making an appearance. “It’s a company name, a legal identity.”

“Selling what?” I grip the edge of the table, rocking on the legs of the chair.

“It’s a recording studio for porn movies.”

I’m almost knocked out of my chair, balancing myself last minute. “Wow.”

“Yeah. It’s a decent front.”

“An interesting front.”

“Do you really want to keep discussing the porn business I’m running?”

Arousal shoots away any remnant of bitterness at the seduction in Alistair’s tone. “Well, duh. Someday.”

“Not today.”

“No, Alistair.” I smile softly. “Not today.”

“Perfect, since my plan revolves around only the two of us.”

“Which is?”

He says nothing. My expectation for his answer takes up the entire room. He stretches the tension, partly to punish me like he had with the belt shoved in my mouth. One day, I’ll have to confess that being turned on isn’t a punishment whatsoever.

But—and quoting Alistair himself—not today.

The ring at the door cuts through the suspense he created.

“You might wanna get that.”

I remember that line. And I walk to the door without saying another word.

---