“To know how experienced you are,” he answers, rubbing his scruffy chin with his fingers.
“You’ve slept with me twice, what do you think?” I tilt my head to the side and squint in questioning. I notice the corner of Landon’s lip twitch, trying to keep from smiling.
“I think– It doesn’t matter what I think.” Landon stumbles on his words, causing me to laugh silently.
I sigh and resume filling it out.
“How many?” Landon mutters softly.
“How many what?” I respond, lost answering the next set of intrusive questions.
“How many men have you slept with?” he asks, his tone deep. I take my eyes from the paperwork and find Landon looking at me closely. His hard stare pins me, causing my heart to beat rapidly. I close my eyes and bite my bottom lip.
“Three. I’ve slept with three men,” I murmur. I risk a glance at Landon; his strong jaw is clenched and his face takes on a shade of red. He stands and runs his hand through his hair, staring out the window behind his desk.
“Just finish the paperwork,” he rasps. I swallow the lump in my throat and finish the last question before sliding it back on his desk.
“Terrific,” Landon remarks. He turns and sits, his face unreadable as he takes the paperwork.
“This is a contract, saying what is expected of you as an escort and how long your term at the Blackwell Estate is for. It lists a minimum of two years, and at the end of the two years, we reevaluate the time you have spent with us and decide if you should be let go, or if renegotiating another two years is in everyone’s best interest.” I get the impression there’s a but at the end of all this by his sly smile.
“But?” I encourage.
“But that is for someone who wasn’t traded, or owned by the Blackwell Estate, so it would be pointless to sign it.” He shreds the contract and tosses it to the side. I take in a sudden breath as I stare at the torn document. It’s nothing but ink and paper, but it held the fate of me possibly being free at some point. Him tearing it, telling me there is no out, wasn’t necessary. He did it to remind me of where I stand with him: powerless.
My soul was ripped from my chest just like he ripped the paper. Is he being a prick because he’s really a prick, or is it because he’s jealous I slept with other men? Maybe this has to do with why he became so cold after we had sex yesterday? I close my eyes, trying to fight the emotions racing up my spine.
“Are we done?” I ask before standing, my pulse drumming so hard in my temples my vision blurs.
“I’m sorry?” Landon leans back in his chair, looking at me with that smug-looking smirk.
“Are we done? I would like a client already. I would like to go to work now, make a living!” I shout, losing control of my anger. I need to feel. I need to feel wanted, cared for, anything but the gut-wrenching hurt I’m dealt when I’m around Landon, when he treats me like dirt.
“Hardly,” he replies drily. I scoff and turn around, trying to get ahold of myself. How can he be so warm, so alive when he’s inside of me, but turn cold the very next moment?
“Are you going to talk to me about last night?” I mutter, turning back around and slamming my hands on the desk. My hair falls over my face in my rage.
“Why would I?” Landon sits up straight in his chair and steeples his hands.
“Why would you? Why wouldn’t you?” I sneer, my face twisted with annoyance.
“Because nothing happened,” he states, striking my heart with a vengeance.
I clench my teeth, close my eyes and seethe, “I’m pretty sure—”
“It won’t happen again!” Landon roars, making me jump. He straightens his tie, gathering his composure.
“You are far from being ready for any of our clients with that loose mouth of yours, and I still need to get the test results back from our doctor. God knows what you’ve fucked.” Landon’s face scrunches with disgust. My nostrils flare with rage, pissed we’re back to him treating me like some common whore.
“That didn’t stop you from screwing me yesterday, did it?” I jeer, glowering at him.
Landon stands, placing his hands on his desk as he leans over. The powerful, ‘take charge’ vibe radiates off his confident stance.
“You—”
The door to the office is thrown open, and Veronica walks in. “Mr. Harron is ready!” she cheers, clapping her hands excitedly, a stupid train of a red dress falling behind her.
“Great. Take her!” Landon sits in his chair and throws his hands at me to dismiss me.
***
I groan while looking down at the bowl of salad, the forks and spoons of all sizes setting around the placemat. A tall man wearing a butler-looking outfit paces in front of the table. His black hair is balding, causing the lights from above to glow off his scalp. His hands are tucked behind his back as he sticks his large nose into the air. He looks like a snob for short, and the way he keeps staring at me with disdain, I can tell he doesn’t think highly of me.
“It’s all about size, Charlie,” Harron starts. I nearly snort with that statement. “The smaller of the two forks is for the salad. The larger, the dinner fork,” he instructs. I nod, grab the fork and dive into the luscious-looking greens.
He turns and groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Close your mouth when you chew. You sound like a cow,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.
I close my mouth, wiping away dressing that trickled down my chin. My face turns into a permanent frown from his harsh tone.
“Sorr—”
“No elbows!” He points to my elbows sitting on the table, his brows narrowed in anger.
“Okay, chill out,” I murmur, taking my elbows from the table. This guy is starting to piss me off.
“Don’t speak with your mouth open. You disgust me.” He tilts his head to the side, eyeing me as if I have grown two heads. My eyes go wide, shocked at his amount of hatred toward me. There’s no reason for him to speak so ill of me. I close my mouth and swallow my food, staring at him while my anger fuels my fury.
“Where did the Blackwells pick you up from? I mean—”
“That is it!” I stand and throw the stupid napkin, which I had to re-adjust perfectly in my lap thirty times before I got it just right, into the salad.
“Screw you! I’m done!” I shout, walking out of the dining room. I will not sit here and be talked down to. I won’t feel any less of a human than I already do. Landon is one thing; he holds my fate here. But this pompous ass can go to Hell.
“You get back here, right now. I have never had anyone leave one of my training sessions!” Harron grabs my upper arm, halting me just outside the door. His face is flustered and red, and his nose is making a whistling sound from his heavy breathing.
“Well, it’s happening now,” I seethe, trying to pull his fingers from my arm.
“You are trying to make a fool of me in front of the Blackwells and I won’t allow it,” Harron threatens, tightening his grip on my arm.
“You’re hurting my arm,” I grit between my teeth, my voice wavering from the pain.
“Do you think you’re special? I have news for you. You’re nothing,” he sneers, lifting his nose into the air.
“You have about two seconds to let go of my arm,” I threaten right back, fisting my other hand.
He laughs, holding a tone of mockery. “You despicable whore,” Harron insults. “I’m the man here, honey. What could you possibly do?”
Just as I’m about to swing my fist, a flash races past me and a loud smack echoes through the hall. Harron instantly falls to the ground with a loud thud. I glance from a passed-out Harron up to a red-faced Landon, holding his fist and glowering at Harron. My eyes grow heavy with realization that Landon just came to my defense.
Landon turns and raises his brows. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Landon looks me over, squinting with worry.
“I- yeah, I’m okay,” I stutter, trying to get a hold over what exactly just happened.