Page 29 of Dirty Little Secrets
“As a kid, I used to hate coming to New York,” Emery mutters as she steps onto the balcony, her hair blowing in the wind. She sighs. “I never thought I’d end up living here.” She cranes her neck over her shoulder, scowling. “Against my will, might I add.”
Ignoring the latter part of her statement, I join her outside. “I can’t imagine why a child would hate such a vibrant city. I doubt Chesterfieldhas enough to stimulate a young mind.”
She scoffs. “Not a lot of vibrancy in hospitals.”
I frown. “Hospitals?”
“The view is nice,” she muses, side-stepping an explanation. She takes a step forward, pressing up against the railing as she looks down. “It’s a long way down.” She leans over the edge and fear zaps my chest as I reach out to grab her, but she pulls herself back as if sensing my distress. “If someone jumped, I wonder which floor they’d get to before they regretted it.” Unease stirs in my gut by her morbid musings. “I’d probably make it to the fifth floor.” She flicks her solemn gaze at me. “What about you? How far would you make it before wishing you never jumped?”
“We should go back inside,” I say, needing her to step away from the edge. She’s leaning too far now. She doesn’t move. Instead, she bends further against the railing. “Emery!”
“What?” She releases a string of worrisome giggles as her hands uncurl from the railing and she holds her arms in the air. “Worried I’ll jump?”
“Enough!” In one swift motion, I pull Emery toward me, scooping her into my arms. Alarmed, I stare at her as she chuckles and spins around to face me. “You think this is funny?” I shake my head. “Do not do that ever again, understand?”
She gives me a weak smile. “I’m kidding, Damon. Don’t look so concerned.”
“It’s not funny, Miss Jones,” I state, guiding her back into the apartment where it’s safe.
“Yeah, well,” she hums, scanning the furnished condo with a skeptical eye. “I’m not exactly a walking ray of sunshine.”
“You’re right,” I say, chaperoning her every step as she familiarizes herself with her new home. “You’re not sunshine, Miss Jones. You’re rain.” She pauses, her back facing me as I slowly approach her, as one would an unstable grenade. The scent of her sweet perfume overpowers my senses as I stop behind her, my body buzzing from the proximity, from the comforting closeness of her presence. I sweep her hair over her shoulder, leaning into her ear as I whisper, “Rain brings life to the lifeless, Miss Jones. Without rain, everything would burn.”
She swallows, shivering as my breath tickles her skin. “Is that why I’m here?” she whispers. “To make you feel alive again?” She subtly shakes her head, my stubble grazing her temples. “Death only brings death,Mr. Cavanaugh. I promise you, I am not an antidote for lifelessness.”
“You’re wrong, Miss Jones. You’ve already awoken a part of me I thought I’d never see again,” I rasp, snaking my hand around her waist, my index finger dipping between the buttons on her blouse. Her diaphragm expands as I caress her soft skin, my mind melting into a puddle of sweet nostalgia. “You feel it too, Miss Jones. I know you do.”
“Stop.” Emery gasps, abruptly jerking away from me. “I am sotiredof people telling me how I feel!” Pain flashes across her face. “Youdon’t get to decide howIfeel. That isnotyour choice to make.”
Frustration ripples through me. She’s making this more difficult than it needs to be. If only she could let go. If only she could be honest with herself. She’s stubborn. She refuses to let me win. To let herself lose. But there will not be any losers here. This isn’t a game. We will both come out on top. Deep down, she knows that. Maybe that’s the problem. She doesn’t want to win. She doesn’t want to feel joy. If she feels anything other than nothing, that means there’s meaning to her life after all.
“Even if Idofeel something,” Emery stalks toward me, her shields once again rising. “What makes you think that after everything you’ve just pulled, I’d give you the last part of me that’s still in my control?”
“You’re mistaken, Miss Jones,” I say. “I am not asking you to relinquish your control. Not yet. I am merely asking you to be open to the idea.” I tilt my head, soaking in the angelic sight of her. “Submissionwill come when you’re ready to trust me. Do you think you could trust me one day, Miss Jones?”
“It’s not a matter ofcanI trust you, Mr. Cavanaugh, it’s a matter ofshouldI trust you,” Emery says. “Other than an orgasm…” She waves her fingers at me. “Which I am more than capable of giving myself,” she shrugs, “I don’t see what I’d get out of this arrangement.”
“Oh, you sweet girl,” I chuckle at her naivety. “I take it you’ve never been properly fucked in your whole life.” She stiffens, offended by my observation. The last thing I want to do is push her farther away. I change my tone. Shaming her won’t help. “I can guarantee you, Miss Jones, this arrangement will be mutually beneficial. And to answer your question, what do you get out of it? You get me. All of me. My attention, my time, and my devotion.”
“You sure put yourself on a pedestal, don’t you?” she hums with a flicker of intrigue.
“I know my worth, Miss Jones,” I say. “But I also know yours, so you’ll have to forgive me for my actions. But when a man stumbles upon a priceless diamond, he doesn’t just walk away.”
She scoffs. “If you think you can win me over with flowery words, you’re sorely mistaken.”
I grin as she tries her hardest to stifle a growing smile. “Is that a little sunshine I see?”
Emery rolls her eyes. “You wish.”
“I do,” I say as my cell phone rings. Javier asks if we’re ready for him. “Yes, come inside. Miss Jones is ready to sign.”
“Sign what?” she asks as I hang up. A knock on the door draws our attention. Javier walks through with a folder in his hand. He gives Emery a stoic nod. “Hello…?”
“Miss Jones.” Javier holds out his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Javier Cortes, chief of staff at Cavanaugh Industries. We are very much looking forward to your expertise and experience.” He hands me the folder, whispering in Spanish. “This is your stripper? She looks like a librarian.”
“He knows?!” Emery exclaims, blindsiding both me and Javier. She crosses her arms, glowering at us. “Who else knows?”
Javier clears his throat. “I apologize, I did not know you?—”
