"I just need to attach this drive and upload the software real quick." He paused when I didn't move, and his face flushed again. Did he think I was standing here, watching him work in Aston's office, intentionally treating him like the help? A man like him would find that insulting, I knew that.
A man like him. I didn't know what kind of man he was. I had the sudden impulse to tell him what I wanted to say a moment ago, that I could not in fact be bought. I wanted to tell him that the reason I was here with Aston was for a greater purpose, a purpose bigger than myself. I had never felt shame about what I had done in the past. Guilt, yes – but shame, no. I had not chosen this life. I had been forced into it. And the men who did that were responsible for the monster I had become.
But standing there in front of him, hearing him intimate that I had been bought by Aston, in that moment I felt shame. In that moment, I felt regret. This man, the one I knew nothing about, had the ability to make me feel that way.
That was disturbing to me.
I watched as he pulled equipment from his briefcase and busied himself with it. "Do you live here?" he asked, bending toward the computer, his back turned toward me.
"Now and then," I said.
He looked up, his brow furrowed. "What's that mean?"
"I don't live here full time," I said. "Sometimes I stay here."
"With Aston," he said.
"Yes."
"So you're with him," he said.
"It's complicated," I said. Not by choice, I wanted to scream. What the hell was I doing, lingering in the doorway, talking to this man as if he was any other guy? As if I were not possessed by Aston. As if I was not one of Aston’s belongings.
And if there was anything Aston cared about, it was that his belongings were his and his alone. It would not be good when he found me talking to Hammer. And I could not afford to make Aston angry.
"The marks on your arms before," Hammer said. "Did he do that to you?"
"It's complicated," I said. Hammer was silent, busy with his computer, but I suspected he was paying more attention to me than he let on. "If you need something, let me know."
“I’m finished.” I looked up from my book to see him standing in front of me, his expression unreadable. "Do you know if Aston will be back soon? I'll need to show him how to work some of this."
I stood, smoothing my slacks. “He should have been back by now. He should be here any minute. Do you - want a drink or something?” I didn't know why was asking him to stay for a drink, I just knew that there was a part of me if that didn't want to see him leave. There was another part of me that knew how it would look if Aston came home now, to see him here alone in the penthouse with me, talking casually, having a drink. He would be livid.
Hammer hesitated, then shook his head. “I shouldn’t,” he said.
Shouldn’t drink or shouldn’t stay? I wanted to ask, but didn’t. Shouldn’t drink was probably the right choice for someone who looked as haggard as he did. He looked like he hadn’t slept in ages. I found myself wondering why.
He opened his bag, balanced it on the edge of the sofa. “I’ll give you my card. If you need anything - and I mean anything - no matter the time of day, just let me know." He paused. Whatever he's got over you, whatever's keeping you here, it's not worth it.”
I didn't speak, even though I wanted to scream at him, to tell him that he couldn't possibly understand the complexity of my situation. There was no way he could appreciate the fact that I was here with Aston because I was being blackmailed. He wouldn't understand how it felt to lose a child.
Hammer pulled out a portfolio, holding his case on the edge of the sofa using his hip.
And then, just like that, his portfolio slipped, crashing onto the floor, the papers flying out in a rush across the hardwood floors.
“Fuck,” Hammer muttered, only half under his breath as he bent over to pick them up. I squatted down on the floor, reaching for papers and picked up a photo of him and a woman.
My eyes met his, and a pained expression crossed his face. Before I could say anything, he pulled the photo from my hands, without a word. His hand brushed mine, and I felt a jolt of electricity pass between us, something I’d never felt with anyone before. He paused for what seemed like an eternity, his hand still touching mine, but was probably really only a moment, his eyes locked on mine. It was one of those moments when time seemed to stand still.
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the moment passed, and I felt him pull his hand back, slipping the photo back into his portfolio. “Thanks,” he said abruptly.
We stood at the same time, inches away from each other.
“The photo-” I started. It was none of my business. Especially since I recognized that look, the pain behind his eyes.
Hammer cleared his throat. “My wife,” he said.
He was married. Why was I suddenly disappointed at that thought? There was nothing between us. We had spoken no more than a handful of words. He was nothing to me.
I looked at him for a long moment. “Your wife,” I parroted stupidly.