Page 98 of Crushing Clover

“You can’t let me work in the restaurant for free? Oh no. Whatever shall I do?”

He sighed. “It must suck—that’s all I’m saying. You worked and went to school before you ended up with us. I’m sure it’s weird for you to spend most of your time fucking instead of pursuing your own ambitions, but I can’t pretend you’re some regular girl and let you wander around unsupervised.”

What was that in his tone? Regret? That wasn’t something I’d expected from him, but it was kind of nice. It felt like he wasseeing me as a person for the first time. Maybe he’d never really thought of me as useful or competent before.

Maybe even Saint could grow as a person.

“Understood.”

“It’s a shame, you know?” he said roughly. “You might’ve worked out.”

“As a server for your fancy restaurant?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re confusing me. When are you going to be mean again?”

“Don’t get used to compliments, bootlicker.”

“Yes, Saint.”

He smiled at me—actually smiled—and gave his head a shake as he walked out the door, locking it behind him. Feet aching in my borrowed shoes, I sank down on the couch to wait for them to finish closing.

I floated on the high of his genuine smile.

Would I ever get to see it again?

Chapter 21

Never in my life had I wanted to work in a restaurant. It had never been a thought of mine, let alone a dream, except to be grateful I didn’t need to memorize a menu or get yelled at by impatient customers. Yet, here I was, still sulking in the office nights later, with novels piled up to either side of me and my crochet project waiting.

Months ago, I never would have dreamt that someday I might have more free time than I wanted. Technically, my current jobs were satisfying the sexual desires of three men, and helping with the housework, but that wasn’t the same as having co-workers and my own money. It also wasn’t the same as being out there talking to people and being part of something as cool as Cygnet.

My goal had been med school, and maybe a family practice after that. Now, there was only the daily struggle to get the house clean enough to satisfy Saint.

I snorted and shook my head.

Poor Clover—currently safe, warm, fed—not tied to a squalid mattress in a faraway brothel. I had things to entertain andamuse me, and time to recuperate between getting absolutely railed by three hot guys. So, what was the problem?

Was it the lack of choice?

Maybe it was the years of striving to get somewhere, only to find it all stripped away. I was a leaf floating along a rushing river without the ability to steer myself or reach dry land.

What was the word?

I tapped my fingers on a fantasy novel where the female hero on the cover brandished a sword and sat astride a war horse.

Agency. That was the word. I wanted to have agency in my life, and right now I had none, other than to do my best not to piss off the men who had me under their collective thumbs. Six thumbs were a lot of thumbs, especially when none of them belonged to me. I grumbled a series of unsatisfying expletives.

I read half a chapter, hoping to feel inspired, but being locked in an office didn’t make me feel all that noble.

Eventually, I would escape. It wouldn’t even be difficult at this point.

But now wasn’t the right time.

Even if I did, though…what then?

There were jobs I could get that would allow me to support myself. It wouldn’t be the lifelong security I’d been hoping for, but now that I didn’t have Noah to take care of, maybe things would be easier. The problem was, I had no ID. I also had no way to access my money from the resort, if there was any left. I didn’t trust that Noah couldn’t get his hands on it. Noah had also tanked my credit rating, so what were the chances of getting an apartment where the landlord wouldn’t check it?

---