And not in a good way.
Tension bounces between us on the drive back to the hotel, and when we arrive, he all but carries me into the elevator that will take us up to our suite. Still, he doesn’t say a word, but the ticking in his jaw tells me just how pissed off he is.
I kick off my shoes inside the suite and chuck my purse onto one of the sofas. No words leave him as I walk into the bathroom and strip off my clothes.
Who the f**k does he think he is? Coming in there and dragging me away like that? What gives him the right to do that?
Oh, that’s right. He owns me because he spends his endless amounts of cash on my time. I forgot about the part where I’m supposed to appreciate that gesture.
I scrub my hair and body under the hot spray of the shower, and once I’m clean, I get out, still angry. I’m so angry I can barely f**king think straight.
I towel dry my hair and let it fall around my shoulders and onto the fluffy hotel robe I’m wearing. Argh!
Aaron’s sitting on one of the sofas when I leave the bedroom, leaning forward. A beer bottle spins between his fingers, and the wine glass clinks against the side when I set it down.
“I don’t think you need any more.”
I pour a glass, ignoring his comment, and set the bottle back in the fridge. Fuck you. Fuck you, f**k you, f**k you.
I’m being childish and there isn’t a single part of me that gives a f**k.
Control is how I live my life, how my days unravel, how I keep sane. I control every single aspect of my life, aside from client preferences. But I’m still free to go where I wish, see who I wish, do whatever the frigging hell I want.
Now? I have no control. All I can control is what I wear each morning, and he can take that from me as easily as he’s taken everything else.
“Dayton.”
I walk past him. Or I try to. He grabs my hand and pulls the wine glass from it. I hit him with narrowed, angry eyes and yank my hand back.
“What?”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
I take a deep breath but the bitter laugh escapes me anyway. “I’m being ridiculous? You woke up this morning and decided I should spend every second of my day being your girlfriend. Then you looked for me and dragged me from a place I was comfortable and relaxed in to bring me here, so don’t you f**king stand in front of me all righteous and tell me I’m being ridiculous.”
“Go to bed. Go to bed and sleep off however much wine you’ve consumed, and we’ll speak in the morning.”
“No, we won’t.” I shake my head. “We speak right the f**k now or the only person I’m speaking to tomorrow is the airline!”
His body goes rigid. Frozen. Still. “What?”
“Oh, you’re finally listening to me? Is that what it takes to get my feelings heard, huh? A threat to leave?”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Aren’t I? Are you going to stop me?” I spin and he grabs my waist.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he repeats through gritted teeth.
I shove his arms from me and walk backward. “Then instead of telling me what to do, you’re gonna shut the hell up and listen to me!”
“Dayton—”
“Don’t Dayton me. Don’t Dayton me, sweetheart me. Don’t f**king Bambi me!” I point at him. “For the last twelve days, I’ve done everything you’ve asked, everything that’s been expected. I’ve put up with your unreasonable demands and your requests disguised as demands and I’ve been the perfect f**king girlfriend, but I’m done. Unless you listen to me right now, I’m f**king done!”
He inhales slowly and runs his hand through his hair. I stare at him, my chest heaving, and wait for him to argue.
“This is because of this morning, isn’t it?” His voice is gentle. Soft. Caressing.
“It took you long enough to work it out.” I snort. “Yes, it’s about this morning. What the f**k, Aaron?”
“I…”
I raise my eyebrows.
“I hate it, Day. How you treat me like any of your clients.”
“You are my client!”
“No I’m not!” A vein in his neck bulges and he balls his hands into fist. “Fuck. Can you honestly look at me and say I’m just a f**king client to you? Go on. Do it right now. Look at me and tell me I’m just a normal client.”
“You’re just a normal client.”
“Liar! You’re lying to yourself and you’re lying to me.”
I back away. “The past is in the past. Stop bringing it up.”
“I didn’t. You did that when you walked into the hotel.”
“You hired me!” I fist my hands in my hair. “Jesus. What did you want me to do? Walk away?”
“I wish you had. I wish you had, but I’m so glad you didn’t.”
“How does that even make sense?” Shit! I walk forward and grab my glass, taking two big mouthfuls of wine.
“I don’t know. Nothing has ever made sense to me where you’re concerned.”
“Well join the goddamn club!” I put the glass down and lean my forehead against the wall. “Why did you say it? What you did this morning?”
He sighs heavily. “I already told you. I want you to treat me like me, not some ass**le you don’t know in a hotel room.”
“And what about me? What if I don’t want that? What if I’m better off with you being my client?”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” I straighten and look him in the eye. I take a deep breath and fight the rollercoaster of emotions riding around my body. “You’re better off staying my client. I was better off not even coming here.”
“Don’t say that. Jesus, Day, don’t say it.”
“Goddammit, Aaron!” I smack the wall. “Are you only thinking about yourself? All this ‘do this,’ ‘do that’ bullshit. Are you only thinking about what you want?”
He says nothing.
“What about what I want, huh? What about if it’s hard enough being your girlfriend in public? What if that pretense, knowing how pure the real thing is, is too much? And you want me to do that all the time. Have you even thought about how that feels for me? Have you sat back in your expensive suit and your fancy car and considered for just one second how pretending to be your girlfriend all the time might feel? What it would do to me?”
He shakes his head slowly, letting a long breath escape through parted lips. “No. No, I haven’t.”