He was gravity.
He was the moon, and I was the ocean, and together we couldn’t look away for a moment.
He hadn’t asked for the spoon, and I hadn’t attempted to give it to him. It was our little secret and probably not the only reason his gaze travelled to my chest more than once, lingering on me in a way that made me hot and cold and wet and tingly all at the same time.
Our appetiser arrived.
A crispy wonton base with tuna ceviche and crème cheese.
Once again, we held no conversation as Elder gathered my plate and placed two of the delicate appetisers in front of me.
Using my fingers, I placed one into my mouth. My appetite had only one thing it was hungry for, and it wasn’t food. Once again, that terrible word lust had twisted me up and made me believe I was cured enough to want what I desperately hungered for.
My taste buds came alive as the subtle flavours grabbed my attention, finally giving me something else to focus on than just Elder.
He chewed slowly. His eyes closed for a moment, enjoying the light but aromatic food.
My mouth watered as his powerful throat rippled as he swallowed. My teeth locked together as his hands flexed to gather his napkin. When his head turned to survey the restaurant and fellow diners at their own oasis of eating, I studied his perfectly formed ear, the rouge blue-black curl on his forehead, and the roughness of his five o’clock shadow.
Did the ceviche have illegal substances in it? Why was I suddenly so aware of every little thing about my dining companion?
And why hadn’t we spoken?
Why was I afraid to speak when only a few glances revealed what our words never would? We ached for one another. We bruised for one another.
I’d never been a girl who needed physical contact to feel loved. My mother wasn’t a hugger, and I was more suited to never being touched after my miserable history.
But Elder’s presence tugged on me.
I didn’t like being on the other side of the table. I wanted to be beside him. I wanted to be able to touch him.
Table-cloths and fine dining were still a novelty after my dog bowl and chains. I was an imposter in this world.
I needed Elder close like he’d been on that first night when he’d tried to give me a penny for my thoughts. That first meeting when he brought about the end of my world.
I needed him to shield me from the whispers of my past, hissing that I didn’t have permission to eat in a place like this. That I didn’t have a license to think I was a woman rather than a pet.
He was the one who made me believe. He was the one who nudged me closer to confidence.
Our main meal arrived.
Elder had ordered the same for both of us: cauliflower puree with seared scallops, garnished with things I couldn’t name and herbs that detonated on my tongue.
Silence was a third entity as we ate and stared and ate some more.
My stomach tangled with food and fancy. Tension born from questions…
What will happen when we go back to our room?
What will we do when we’re alone?
I forced myself to eat every delicious mouthful all while Elder glued me into place with a stern look and a frown that never stopped shadowing his gorgeous almond eyes.
It was only once we’d finished our meals and our dirty plates taken away that he sat back, dabbed his mouth with his napkin, and switched his scowl for determination.
The vibe changed from desire-heavy to purposeful.
I was grateful in an odd way. Thankful that the connection throbbing between us wouldn’t devour us just yet. That we had time. That we weren’t just hostage to what our bodies screamed.
I mimicked him with my napkin, taking a sip of water to bolster my courage in preparation.
Never taking his eyes off me, Elder reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out his money clip. Peeling off a hundred dollar bill, he smoothed it onto the table, pushing it toward me with elegant fingers. “For you.”
I gawked at the money, lost and slightly cheapened. He’d given me money before, but the notes had always been quaintly dressed in origami. I hadn’t counted how much he’d gifted thanks to his paper creations—it was more than I’d had in years—and I would continue to accept any number of his folded artwork because I had no intention of destroying them to spend it.
They were presents.
This was payment.
Payment for what?
I would never accept straight-up cash.
I sat back in my chair, my lips thinning.
He leaned forward, understanding my subtle refusal. “I thought as much.” Taking the bill, he creased the green paper, his face shedding the tense affliction between us and becoming almost innocent in study. His fingers crimped and folded, magically turning flat money into a simple crane even I had been taught in school.
Pushing it back toward me, he murmured, “Now, it’s a gift. Not payment.”
I hated that he understood me so much. That he could read me so well. It was an invasion of my privacy. An assault on everything I tried to keep hidden and secret.
I paused for a second before reaching forward and plucking the green bird from the table-cloth. Just because he’d read me correctly didn’t mean I’d punish him for it. I loved his origami just as much as I hated his music.
Cradling it in my palm, I nodded in acceptance. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. It’s in return for something.”
“For what?”
He rubbed his jaw. “For things I want to know.”
I sat in silence, trying to make sense of this.
Elder leaned forward, his hands clasped together, elbows resting on the table. “For each question I ask, you will give me an answer.”
I waited for more.
When he didn’t continue, I asked, “Where does the money come in?”
“I told you I’d give you a set worth. A value you had to repay in order to earn your freedom. You refused my offer of freedom. Now, you must do what I say to receive it.”
“And if I don’t want it?” I blurted, surprising both of us with brutal honesty. “If I don’t want to return home to a city I no longer feel safe in, to a mother who never liked me, and to friends who no longer know me? What then?”
“Then you take your money and start a new life.”
My heart panged to think of another existence. One without travel and yachts, and most of all him. I wasn’t superficial. I didn’t like Elder for the expensive lifestyle he could give me. I liked Elder for the quality of life he could give me. The understanding he offered. The kindred knowledge he shared. Those attributes were priceless in my eyes.
Twirling the crane, I whispered, “So you still want to be rid of me?”
“It’s not a matter of what I want, Pim.” He glowered. “It’s about what’s right.”