“I’ll think about it,” she finally conceded.
Satisfaction, no, triumph gleamed brightly in his eyes. He acted as though she’d already agreed. Maybe he thought she had by saying she’d think about it. Or maybe he just didn’t like taking no for an answer.
The waiter returned bearing their entrees. Ash quieted until the plates had been served and the waiter retreated.
“Now, tell me more about you. You’re an artist, obviously.”
She nodded, not even tasting the food she put in her mouth. The steak smelled delicious and was so tender she could cut it with her fork. But the moment she put it on her tongue, the taste didn’t register. She was too preoccupied with Ash, and the proposition he’d put before her.
“Are you able to make a living at it?” he asked.
It was a personal question, but then Ash didn’t seem the sort of man who worried too much about propriety or boundaries.
“More so now,” she said ruefully. “I’ve been able to make it. It’s not always easy. But I’ve tried regular nine-to-five jobs. I don’t have a passion for it. Not like I do for my art. I’ve sold a few pieces here and there and I design jewelry and sell it over the Internet. I make enough to pay my rent. Most times,” she added with a grimace. “This month was lean for me. Internet orders, which are usually steady, were down and I hadn’t sold any of the art I display in a gallery in the last six weeks. That’s why I went to the pawnshop to sell my mother’s jewelry. I hated it, but I didn’t see another way of paying my bills. I could have gotten a loan, but that doesn’t do me any good if I don’t have the money to pay it and the interest off.”
“Where the hell was Michael in all of this?” Ash demanded.
She blinked at the ferocity in his gaze, the anger she saw brimming in his eyes.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
Ash’s lips twitched in annoyance. “You were having financial trouble, which forced you to choose between selling your mother’s jewelry, something that obviously means a lot to you, or not being able to pay your rent and ending up without a place to live. Michael should have helped you.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s not like that. I don’t want him to support me. He makes good money, but our relationship wasn’t about that. I couldn’t take money from him. It would be too much like he was paying me for sex.”
Ash looked even more annoyed. “You have some fucked-up reasoning, Josie. If it was a choice between you being on the streets or taking money from a man who damn well should have protected you better then there’s no question that he should have provided for you. You shouldn’t have had to ask. If he was involved with you, if he was your Dom and he knew what he should about you then he would have known that you were in trouble. He should have known you were in a fucking pawnshop hocking jewelry to make ends meet. And he damn sure should have stepped in and taken care of you. If he treated you like he was supposed to, you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable with him helping you. You should have complete trust in the man you’ve given yourself to. And he should cherish that gift by making sure you have no worries, financial or otherwise.”
“Guess I never looked at it that way,” she murmured.
“You will,” he said.
The determination in his voice made her go still. He was so sure of himself. Of her. Of there being an eventual “us.”
“How is your food?” he asked, shifting the conversation in a completely different direction.
She stared down at her plate, realizing the steak was halffinished and she had no memory of eating what was gone.
“It’s good,” she said quickly. “Excellent actually. I’ve never eaten here before. It’s too rich for my blood. What made you choose it?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I own the hotel, so it’s only natural that I’d have a restaurant in it that I love to eat at. I’m glad the steak was to your liking.”