Page 26 of Surrender

Things have fallen into an easy routine between Declan and me. What started out rough has become a comfortable arrangement. We go for a run together every morning, eat breakfast together, work a bit in his home office before changing and letting Joseph drive us to The Envelope. We both work and then go home, where he lays out one of his shirts for me to wear while I'm in the shower. And I sleep next to him in his bed.

I completed his silly assignment of shopping around for colleges a week ago, but haven't heard anything else, so I'm hoping he forgets about it. I love the idea of college. And I will go. Some day. He's done more than enough for me, giving me this chance to reset and build a life for myself, but paying for tuition is too much.

He's not flirtatious, or forward, but he's less angry around me, and I've caught his lingering eyes a few times.

I'd like to think he's as attracted to me as I am to him, but I can't let my battered heart think like that. I can count on one hand the number of men I know, while Declan's slept with any number of women and owns a sex club. He's as experienced as Iam inexperienced, and I know there's no way he could want me like that. I'm sure my inexperience and virginity are a complete turn off to a man like that.

But I can't stop my eyes from watching him as he works. I can't stop from admiring the way his T-shirts cling to his biceps as we run. Or the way his suit jacket hugs his broad shoulders. Or the way the muscles and tendons of his forearms and hands flex as he works.

It's ridiculous. I don't even know why I find things about him attractive. And I can't stop my brain from stuttering over that next step. I find his muscles attractive... and then? I can't imagine sex with him, or kissing him, so I spend my days watching him, wanting him, and then not knowing what I want him for.

I think it's official. I have a crush. A stupid, stupid crush on the first man who has ever shown me an ounce of kindness. I know it's childish, and misplaced, and so very not reciprocated, but that doesn't stop my heart from breaking when I walk into the kitchen after my shower to find a half-naked woman there.

I'd taken a quick shower after our run this morning and was about to join Declan for a protein smoothie. But in the kitchen, a beautiful, busty redhead is making an exaggerated display of bending forwards at the hips and feather dusting the floorboards. And Declan's sitting on a stool, staring at her thong-clad ass. She's topless, and her bottom-half is barely covered by a lacey French maid's skirt.

My plastic water cup falls from my hand as my stomach bottoms out. The loud clatter of it bouncing off of the wooden floor draws both of their attention. I squeak, before dipping down, grabbing the offending cup and booking it back to my room.

I shut the door behind me and lean back against it.

Logically, I know he's not attracted to me. Logically, I know he does whoever and whatever he wants on a nightly basis at the club, but seeing it so blatantly in my face, at nine o'clock in the morning, is jarring.

I close my eyes, tip my head back, and rest my head on the door, breathing out a thin breath.

I've always felt like I'm not enough. Not smart enough, not pretty enough, not successful enough. After my father left when I was only three, and my mother had a string of failed relationships, all of which she blamed on me, I started to believe it. I was okay being not enough. I work hard, I pay the bills, I kept the house afloat so my mom would be happy, and Gary wouldn't leave.

But the reminder that I'm not good enough to catch the eye of the only man I've ever wanted? In his kitchen. In a home I'm borrowing from him. What would have happened tonight? Would he have turned me away when I couldn't sleep and sought him out because another woman was in his bed? Would he have fucked her now, and then we'd go about our day like nothing had happened?

Obviously, this is a thing for him. Maids don't just come over and strip for their clients. He's fucked her before. And the thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I imagine him whispering dirty words into her ear as he bends her over the island. I imagine her on her knees with his dick in her mouth and rush to the bathroom in case I really do throw up.

It hurts. My stomach burns with the hurt, and I don't stop the tears from streaming down my hot cheeks. I've always been an idiot but now I truly feel like one.

A gentle tapping on my door startles me and I sniff back the tears, wiping my face feverishly. "Miss?" A gentle voice calls out.

I stand on shaky legs; my entire world being shattered. I knew he didn't look at me that way, but I thought we'd at least cometo some sort of understanding? I'd started to feel safe here. I felt comfortable. And now I don't.

"Yes?" I don't open the door. I don't want either of them to know how truly heartbroken I am at the moment. It's not their fault I'm a stupid, silly child.

"Would you like me to turn down your bedroom?"

I take a deep breath in and out, before opening the door.

Still topless, the beautiful redhead looks at me with concern.

I shake my head. "No, thank you. I'm fine to do it myself."

"I didn't know there was someone else here. Are you...?"

I shake my head again. "No. I'm nobody. Just a stray he picked up off the street." I give her a sad smile. "I'm not sure how much longer I'm staying." How could I stay here? How could I watch the one person in the world who doesn't make me feel like shit, make me feel like shit? I bite my bottom lip, hesitating for a second, wondering if I should say what I'm thinking. Screw it. "I'm not a threat... if you want him."

Clearly, she was putting herself on display, inviting DC's most eligible bachelor to screw her. He probably does so on a regular basis, seeing how comfortable she is flaunting her goods. And why wouldn't he? He's gorgeous, wealthy and powerful. He can literally do whatever he wants.

While she seems sweet, I just know I don't belong here. Maybe I'll find a woman's shelter. That's got to be better than watching Declan take home different women or cramp his sex life because I'm borrowing a room.

Oh God. I sleep in bed with him every night. What happens when he brings someone home and kicks me out of his bedroom so they can fuck? The thought makes me nauseous.

She stares at me for a moment longer, as if questioning my sincerity, but she must see the hurt in my eyes and decides to leave it alone.

"Alright, miss. Just let me know if anything changes."

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