Denial (6 page)

This spectacular male specimen driving my car is going to help me get there. Isaac is so f
rigging hot it’s indescribable. He’s also still looking at me out of the corner of his eye with more concern than a stranger usually has for another, not that we’ll be strangers for much longer. I guess that’s what I get for whimpering and curling up into a ball before going catatonic while reminiscing about bittersweet moments with my boyfriend.

“I’m better now.” Why bother pretending.

“Good, because we’re here.”

That was too quick. “I fell asleep?”

“No, you just weren’t awake,” he says softly, glancing at me. I can’t look at him. “It’s okay. I know what that’s like.”

5

The apartment I’ll be staying at with Isaac for the next month is cozy, but so luxurious. Marble counters, leather furniture, expensive floors, cathedral ceilings, everything. The kitchen and living room are separated by a dining area instead of walls, leaving the main living space open and connected. That part reminds me of home. Plus it’s in the heart of the city on the 46
th
floor, complete with a giant window showcasing the incredible view overlooking Boston. I’ve always wanted to live downtown so I would be close to everything, but ironically, I won’t be going anywhere while I’m here. Isaac plops our bags down. The silence between us is getting very awkward, so I suppose I’ll break it.

“Have you been here before?”

“I stopped in yesterday to drop some things off, but I’ve never stayed here.”

I’m not sure why I’m pleased that he hasn’t been here with anyone else. It doesn’t matter. Isaac is in the kitchen, heating up some of that
delicious smelling food that he brought from his house. The aroma arouses my appetite. I haven’t eaten anything all day because I’ve been so nervous. Sitting a single plate down on the dining room table, he pulls out a chair and stares at me.

“I would sincerely appreciate it if you ate something.”

Sausage. Some kind of buttery, cheesy white sauce. I wonder if homemade pasta is better than the regular kind. For whatever reason, I feel like arguing with him even though I’m famished. I resist the urge to be difficult and nod as I take the seat he offers. His fingers graze my back, increasing my heart rate. It also reminds me that I’m still wearing his jacket. I’d rather leave it on, but it looks too expensive to risk spilling something on, so I slip it off and hand it to him. His eyes linger on my breasts for a second before he turns away. Damn this dress.

He’s in the living room, rifling through his bag until he pulls out a stack of paper. Glancing back at me, he takes a deep breath and starts searching through the pages. Why is he acting so weird?

“I thought you said you’d be hungry once we got here.”

“I…” he stumbles, peering up at me from behind whatever he’s reading. “I guess I am. I was trying to give you some space.”

“I said I was better.” He doesn’t appear to believe me and I’m at a total loss about how to prove it to him. “I meant it. This is delicious.” I take a big bite, keeping my eyes locked with his.

“I’m glad you like it.” Isaac tosses the packet on the end table next to the leather couch. “Would you mind if I join you then?”

“Please do.”

Looking a bit more relaxed with a hint of a smile on his lips, he heats up a plate for himself and takes a seat on the opposite side of the table.

“Did you make this?” I ask him.

“I did. I’ll show you how, eventually. I’m told you don’t cook at all.”

“Nope.

“Why is that?”

“Boarding school kid, I guess. Didn’t go home much. And when I did, my mother wouldn’t teach me because she didn’t want me to end up being a housewife.”

“That’s ironic, isn’t it?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because… Fuck. I can’t tell you.”

He doesn’t have to because I already know what he’s thinking. “I want to learn to cook for myself too. Takeout gets old after a while.”

“I guess that’s good to know.” His Adam’s apple moves a lot when he swallows. I like it. “So you’re in college?”

“I am.”

“And you’re planning to finish?”

“Of course.”

“That’s good. I hope it works out.”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

He looks silently at me as he takes another bite. I guess he can’t say. “How old are you?”

I don’t know why I’m offended by such a simple question, but I am. “How old are you?”

“I asked you first,” he chuckles.

“Twenty one.” I sigh. “Twenty two this October.”

“Me too.”

“Even the birth month?”

“Yep. The twenty seventh.”

“Oh, come on.” That’s my birthday. “There’s no way we were born on the same day.”

“It appears that we were.” A smile crosses his face for a second, then fades away. “Although…”

“What?” I ask. He won’t look at me. “Well is it really your birthday or are you just trying to trick me?”

“Stop asking me if I’m trying to trick you. I’m not.

“But you will at some point, won’t you?”

“
When I have to. You’re clearly quite intelligent had must have known that. You came anyway.” He takes another bite, locking eyes with me. “Technically, it is my birthday.”

“Technically?”

“I can’t tell you anything else.”

“This is getting old.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “You’re telling me.”

I still can’t figure out what his birthday could possibly have to do with anything and I know it’s going to drive me nuts. “So, um, are you in school too?”

“I was in culinary school, but I dropped out.”

“Why didn’t you finish?”

“Fuck!” He’s laughing, shaking his head as he puts his hand to his forehead.

“Seriously? You can’t tell me?”

“No, but I suppose I can give you a hint. It has something to do with you.”

Obviously not directly with me, but I guess I get it. 24/7 month long jobs probably make it difficult to get to class. “Your schedule was too busy. Doing this.”

“More or less.”

Something tells me it’s less. “Do you want to go back?”

“Not for that. It’s not something I’m particularly passionate about, it’s just something I’m good at.”

“So what do you want to study?”

“I’m not sure. Business, maybe.” His eyes narrow slightly. “But I’m not sure it would be worth it.”

After a few more silent bites, I ask the question that I know I shouldn’t. “Do you do this with your father?”

Isaac lets out a bitter laugh. “Now this I’m really not supposed to talk about, with you anyway. But since I already screwed that up, fuck it. I do this
for
my father.”

“Isn’t that a little weird?”

“Not really. But I suppose that’s what’s weird,” he says quietly.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Officially, since my eighteenth birthday, of course. In reality it was a little earlier.”

“How did you… I mean…You just started training people right away?”

“Oh.” He looks down at his empty plate. “No. I’ve only been doing that for the last year and a half.”

“Do you like it?”

He doesn’t answer right away. “Sometimes. It depends.”

“On what?”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he pushes away from the table and clears the plates away. His shoulders are tense as he rinses them off in the sink. Wait, shouldn’t I be doing that? By the time I get over there, he’s turning off the water.

“I’m sorry,” I say sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll stop asking questions you aren’t supposed to answer.”

My heart skips a beat as he runs his thumb across my jaw. “You aren’t bothering me, I just don’t know how to answer that. Most of them don’t ask me any questions.”

“Oh.” I blush. “That’s all I’ve been doing. I’ll stop.”

“No, it’s okay.” His hand is still touching my face, his breathing getting heavier while he stares in to my eyes. I’ve never seen such gorgeous irises before. So intricate, like a kaleidoscope. “You’re new to this, even newer than I thought. You’re supposed to ask questions, I expected it. I just didn’t think they’d be about me.”

“So I am making you uncomfortable,” I say as his hand falls away. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m just not used to this.”

“What?”

“Normal conversation. Someone talking to me like I’m a normal person. Especially a woman.”

“You’re occupation is odd I guess. But you seem normal enough.”

For a moment his expression is nearly childlike, with a small smile and wide eyes. Then he swallows and they harden. “Well I’m not.” Abruptly he moves into the living room, leaving me standing there speechless. I’m not sure what to do, so I follow him, keeping my distance. He’s staring out the window at the stunning city lights but his reflection in the glass is even more beautiful. “Sometimes I like it. A lot. I guess any guy would. But lately I don’t.”

I step closer to him. “Maybe you should stop then.”

“I can’t. Don’t ask why.”

“I won’t.”

There’s silence for a while, but it isn’t that awkward. We just stare out at the cars moving along below us. Isaac leans against the glass, pressing his head against his forearm. His shirt is open and as much as I want to look at his truly amazing body, I keep getting distracted by his eyes.

“I think it’s because I’m getting older. And I’ve been doing this for so long. It’s fine when I’m supposed to do what I want to do. But it’s getting difficult to do things that I find… distasteful.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Yeah, I bet you do.” His harsh tone seems angrier than it should. “Sorry.”

“I hope that doesn’t happen a lot. This time.”

“Well it’s going to.
Luke’s one of my least favorite people to train for,” he says. That sinking feeling returns and I choke on the air. Isaac whips around. “Fuck!”

“I’m fine.”

“You do not look fine.”

“It’s just hard for me,” I admit. “Thinking of
Luke with other girls. But it’s getting better.”

“I’d hate to have seen what it was like when it was worse.”

“It wasn’t really. We don’t talk about it. I don’t let myself think about it.”

“Look, I’m not exactly an expert, but that doesn’t sound healthy.”

“That’s the way it has to be.”

“Why don’t you just find someone else,” he snaps. “Shit. I should not have said that.”

“Probably not, because it’s none of your business,” I shoot back harshly. He walks away from the window and begins pacing, and starts to say something several times, then stops. “Well spit it out already.”

“I
can’t
,” he replies acidly. “Fuck this! I have to know. Did he force you to come here?”

“No.”

“There’s more than one way to force someone to do something. Believe me, I know,” he says bitterly. Isaac takes a deep breath, clearly trying to control his temper. “Did he
manipulate
you into coming here?” he says, locking eyes with me, forcing his tone to remain calm. “Threaten to leave you? Guilt trip you? That sort of thing.”

Essentially
. “It’s not like that.”

“So yes, then. That’s fucking great.”

“No! He didn’t. It’s not him. It’s me.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“I need to know.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because… I’ve never done this with someone like you before.”

“How can you say that? You don’t even know me, Isaac.”

He closes the distance between us and places his hand on the back of my neck. I shudder, my pulse quickening. “You’re looking me directly in the eye. You’re talking to me like an equal. Your head is high. You’re inquisitive. You clearly aren’t afraid to argue.”

“I thought you said not to worry about doing anything wrong.” My voice is small and timid, nearly a whimper. His expression softens immediately as his fingers play with my hairline.

“You aren’t doing anything wrong. I’ve seen a lot of people with a naturally submissive personality. Even novices, when it’s buried deep but wants to get out. You don’t have it.”

“I thought that’s what I’m here to learn.”

“It’s not something you can teach. It’s something that you are.”

“But I…” His hand on my neck is intoxicating. “I like it. Some of it. A lot.” I draw in a ragged breath. “I want to go further.”

He tugs the hair on the nape of my neck, making my eyelids flutter as warmth creeps over my skin. “Probably not nearly as far as he wants you to go.”

“I want to try.”