Overture (Rain Dance, Book 1) (Rain Dance Series) (14 page)

     
He grimaced
slightly, then shook his head. "And here I was thinking I had gotten rid
of it entirely."

     
"Why would
you want to get rid of it?"

     
"I was
raised here in the states. It never made much sense for me to have it. But as a
child it seemed more natural to mimic my mother's words over my father's."

     
I tried to
imagine him as a little boy, but I couldn't. When looked at him, all I saw was…
man
.
"…So if it was your father's business…" This time it was my turn to
hesitate.

     
He nodded,
confirming my unasked question. "Both my parents died when I was twelve.
Between the two of them, the only family left was my father's sister. I lived
with her until I was eighteen, and during that time I began learning the
trade."

     
I swallowed my
food slowly, not knowing what to say. He might've been young, but he's
obviously been doing it for a while. No wonder he was so confident.

     
"As for
what I do exactly," he began, answering my second question. "Well, my
day consists mostly of small interactions, checking emails, going to meetings -
either in person or on the phone, followed by lots of observing and eventual
decision making, and then a few more meetings. Sometimes there's travel
involved. There's quite a bit of puzzle solving involved, although more
recently it tends to revolve around the artist I keep
hidden away
."
He smirked at me. "And as for how many girls I go through…As I said, I
don't date. While I admit that I'm far from celibate, my position doesn't
exactly lend to my sleeping around so easily."

     
"Really?" I said curiously. "In the books, it's
because
of the business men's position that they're able to sleep around so
easily."

     
"What are
these books you've been reading?" he asked, his eyes glinting wickedly.
"I imagine they must be the dirty kind."

     
I took a big
bite of my food, deciding not to answer.

     
"I should
probably let you know now, I'm a bit untrusting when it comes to women,"
he said quietly. "Anyway, to put it simply, sleeping around is too much of
a hassle. The first few years might have been interesting, but I soon grew
tired of having more and more of my time demanded than what I was willing to
give." Something in my expression must have caught his eye, because he
then asked, "What are you thinking?"

     
I swallowed,
trying not to turn red. "It's just…I may or may not have read that it's
common for certain types of men in that kind of situation to start
looking...elsewhere."

     
"…Elsewhere," he repeated. "Yes, you're right.
Unfortunately, the same exact problem always arises there, too, at some point.
Only it's much worse."

     
"How
so?" I asked when he didn't continue.

     
He looked at me
carefully, his expression somewhat guarded. I think he was debating on whether
or not to answer. "Money tends to bring out the worst in people. At least
for those who live in the realm of…elsewhere. It's human nature, so I
understand, but it does tend to make things more tiresome than enjoyable."

     
Huh.

     
Realizing that
he was waiting for some kind of reaction, I smiled, grateful that he'd just
been honest in sharing this bit of information with me. It still didn't answer
the
how often
, but maybe it was best that I didn't know the answer to
that question. "So what if I only want you for your money?"

 
    
After a few moments, he chuckled quietly.
"Did you know I had any that first day?"

     
"Of
course."

     
His expression
dimmed slightly.

     
Head tilting,
my smile turned apologetic. "As I'm sure you're well aware, everything
about you says wealth and power. I knew the instant I got a look at your
shoes." I paused to take another bite of my food. "I also accepted
the money you offered me for the job, which, let's be honest, is ridiculously
overpriced. I could totally be a money grubbing ho-ho."

 
    
"It's a perfectly acceptable amount.
And I don't believe I've ever heard of a ho-ho. Is that even a real term?"

     
"If not,
then it is now. It's much cuter than a basic ho, don't you think?"

     
He extended his
arm and tapped his forefinger to the tip of my nose. "You're cute,"
he said softly. Then, leaning back in his seat, he took a sip of his drink.
"Will you be buying more clothes with your new earnings? Or - what did you
call them…one true loves?"

     
"Possibly.
Mostly, I'd like to put it towards my re-dream savings."

     
When his brows
furrowed in confusion, I wondered if I should have just kept my mouth shut.
"
Re
-dream? What is that?" he asked.

     
"It's my
realistic dream."

     
"Realistic? Does that mean you have an unrealistic dream savings,
as well?"

     
"Yes. In
my head."

     
"And what
might these dreams be?" he inquired.

     
Finishing my
last bite of dinner, I stretched my arms over my head. "You promise not to
tell anyone?"

     
"It's a
secret?"

     
I leaned
forward and whispered conspiratorially, "My life depends on it."

     
He also leaned
forward, playing along. "In that case, I swear on my life."

     
"…A tiny
little cottage in the woods, hidden away from the world. On an island, where
I'm surrounded by water. I'll disappear and create to my hearts content. No one
will find me. That's the realistic dream. I haven't told anyone, not even my
closest friends. You can't tell anyone, either."

     
"Your life
depends on a cottage in the woods?"

     
I nodded.

     
He was quiet
for a moment. "And the unrealistic dream?"

     
I bit my lip
before answering. "A big white castle by the sea. I don't have to hide and
the world is my oyster."

     
He tilted his
head to the side, amused. "And why wouldn't you have to hide?"

     
"…Because
the world wouldn't be scary."

     
He looked at me
carefully, studying, and I knew it was time to cut the conversation. I stood
and began to clear off the table. After a lingering moment, he followed suit,
helping me carry the dishes to the sink. He didn't speak. Perhaps he now
thought I was a total loony.
Can you blame him? It's the truth, after all.

     
Taking my time,
I rinsed out our glasses and set them aside to dry, humming to myself the
entire time. As soon as I was finished, his arms were around me and his front
pressed up against my back.

     
"Your
secrets are safe with me," he whispered in my ear.

     
I twisted my
head back, stood on my tiptoes and kissed the edge of his mouth.

     
A little while
later, we found ourselves curled up on the couch, watching Fox Mulder wreck the
shit out of a mailbox. If someone had told me last week - hell, if someone had
told me a few hours ago - that
Mr. Desmond
would be watching television
with me after dinner…

     
"I feel
oddly normal."

     
"…Oddly
normal?" he repeated.

     
"I think I
should
feel awkward, but I don't. You make me feel normal."

     
"Why would
you feel awkward?"

     
"Sitting
here with you. Sitting here like
this
. Eating together. Kissing. It's
new." I began chewing on my lip.

     
He placed a
light kiss on my head and absently began running his fingers through the
strands of my hair. "…How new?" he asked a minute later. When I
didn't reply, he turned his head. Feeling his gaze on me, the lip chewing
increased. "Tell me, how many boys do you go through in a year?" I
swear I could almost hear him smiling.

     
"Are you
really asking me that?"

     
"It's only
fair, right?" He was enjoying himself.

     
"I don't
go through any boys. Boys don't interest me."

     
"Girls?"

     
I rolled my
eyes. "Obviously not, although I do have a profound appreciation for
them."

     
"You
didn't seem to have a problem getting undressed in front of me. But if kissing
is new to you, does that mean…" He paused for a moment. "You've never
been with anyone?"

     
I kept my eyes
on the TV. "…In what way?"

     
"You've
never had a boyfriend?"

     
"No."

     
"At
all?"

     
"No."

 
    
"…You really haven't ever been
kissed?" He tried to hide it, but the disbelief in his voice was obvious.

     
"I have.
But it was a long time ago."

     
He sighed.
"I meant real kissing. Like what we did earlier."

     
The instant I
was reminded of earlier, I smiled. But it dimmed when I tried to think of a way
to respond. In the end, I couldn't come up with anything to say.

     
"…Daphne," he said quietly after a few lingering moments.
"Are you a virgin?"

     
I tried not to
seem embarrassed. "Yes. I mean…"
Really
?
You either are or
you aren't.
"Mm."

     
Ethan's brows
furrowed slightly, but he said nothing else. I tried focusing on the
television, wishing I had just kept my mouth shut. Eventually, the silence grew
into a thick, heavy cloud. I needed to get us talking again. Looking at the
clock, I noted the time.

     
"When do
you have to go home?" I asked.

     
"When do
you want me to leave?"

     
I thought about
it. "…I quite like being near you."

     
"Quite
like? Is that all?" he asked dryly.

     
I leaned in
closer to his form and exhaled softly. "I don't want you to leave."

     
"Let me
stay the night. We don't have to do anything," he added when he noticed my
body go still. "I promise I won't try anything tonight. But I'm not ready
to leave you just yet."

     
"...Alright."

     
Thirty minutes
later, the show ended. As the credits began playing, I spoke into Ethan's
chest, "I don't want to move."

     
"Then
don't."

     
"I have to
take a shower," I yawned, pulling my body away from his.

     
"...I
should too, actually." He grabbed his phone from his pocket. "I'll
have Douglas bring over a change of clothes for me."

     
Ah. Rich man
perks
. I bent forward and kissed his cheek quickly, then skipped towards
the bathroom, amazed over how easy it was for me to be so openly physical with
him. Up until now, it was something I had never considered possible.

     
It would've
been inconsiderate of me to take my usual hour-long shower, so I tried to rush.
But hair as much as mine required at least a little bit of extra maintenance.
As I was conditioning, my mind began to wander. In a little while, Ethan would
be right here, naked, with water running down his body. Closing my eyes, I
tried to imagine it for a second, only to snap them back open in shock.

     
I had
never
been turned on by the naked image of a man.
Of course, fictional characters
in stories didn't count. They weren't based off of living, breathing men like
Ethan. At least, to me they weren't.
But here I was, getting all hot and
bothered - a rarity in itself.
Damn it.
There was nothing I could do to
ease the slight aching that had formed below my waist. Rather, there was
nothing I was willing to do so long as Ethan was here in the apartment with me.

     
With an annoyed
sigh, I stepped out and towel-dried my hair before quickly brushing my teeth. I
must've ended up taking a long time, anyway. That or Douglas moved quickly,
because when I exited the bathroom, I saw a large garment bag draped over one
of the dining chairs. Ethan was nowhere to be seen.