Oh, good God.
"Inked" didn't even begin to describe it. His forearms were tapestries of imagery and color, words and symbols and intricate designs all intertwining. They were all different, I thought, this was the product of many years' work - but they all told one long story.
A pair of well-toned forearms were enough of an enticement, in and of themselves. It was impossible to look at them without imagining the way they'd twitch and undulate while he touched you. But sleeve tattoos? I might have gotten over my bad boy phase in college, but once you have a taste for ink, it never really goes away.
I became aware that I was staring.
"Yes, my father was angry as hell, and no, I don't need to keep them covered at work. I just prefer it," he said. "To address the frequently asked questions."
I raised my eyebrows at him. "Of course you don't have to," I said. "It's your company. Do you think they'd care if you showed up naked?"
Why the hell did I pick that example? Instantly, I was blushing again. I'd have to remember to cake on an extra layer of foundation the next time I saw him.
"That sounds like a challenge," he said. "But I'm pretty sure the board's allowed to vote on my dismissal if I start acting unstable. Remind me not to appoint my favorite war horse as CFO."
"Caligula didn't do that because he was crazy, you know," I blurted, without thinking. "He did it because he wanted to mock the senate."
"Right, because that's a sane way to express it." Ben grinned. "By the way, if I do that, you're also allowed to call your contract null and void. I mean - I have no plans to go insane, but just in case."
I was trying to form some kind of clever response, but all my brain had to offer was: tattoos.
This was becoming a problem.
"Not that this isn't a lovely time - but have you checked on your street closure lately?" He coughed quietly. "I know you wanted to go home and unwind, and this isn't exactly the most relaxing atmosphere."
Oh, you have no idea, Mr. Inked Up Billionaire. No idea at all.
"What makes you say that?" I sat up straighter in my seat, trying to act like a normal human who wasn't reduced to a drooling puddle in the presence of sleeve tattoos. "And yeah, I just looked up the DPW alerts. They're..." I was already up to my ankles in a lie, I might as well fully commit. "They're saying not until tomorrow morning."
"Oh." It was hard to read his reaction; maybe Mr. Chase had a poker face after all. Wait a minute, had he been letting me win? That put an unpleasant twist in my chest. "Well, you know, I don't want you to feel pressured or anything, but you're welcome to stay here tonight. I've got...five or six spare bedrooms, I think."
I laughed, even as a twinge of excitement quickened my heartbeat. That wasn't what I meant - I'd just wanted to stay for a few more hours, maybe. Hell, I wasn't sure what I wanted. "I couldn't possibly," I said, quickly. "I mean, I don't want to disturb your..." I glanced around the room for the missing words I couldn't find, my thoughts as blank as the skin on his arms wasn't. "...cats."
Ben let out a low wicked laugh, his eyes flashing to me briefly with something that made my throat go dry. "That's the lamest attempt at a polite protest I've ever heard," he said. "You can have your pick of a room, and I'll loan you some clothes. And I'm pretty sure my cats will be fine. They'll just hide in the servant's wing."
He was joking. I was pretty sure he was joking.
"We should probably talk about some of the boring practical stuff," he said. "Come up with some kind of plausible relationship arc. We'll have to get our story straight for when we start telling people," he said. "Like your parents, for instance."
Oh, shit. My parents. Somehow, I hadn't even thought of that. The utter strangeness of uprooting myself and starting in a new city must have completely scrambled my brains. I was going to have to lie to them, and I hadn't really done that since I was a teenager.
Well, except for...pretty much every conversation I'd had with them recently. But that was different. Those were little white lies, just to make them stop worrying about me. I wanted my mom to think I was incredibly successful and happy in my new home, lest she and Dad come rushing up from their cute little retirement condo in Florida to rescue me. They'd scrimped and saved wisely for their golden years, and they deserved to enjoy it. The last thing they needed was to worry about me.
And this was going to make them worry. It was completely out of character for me, and I didn't even know if they'd believe it. I wasn't even sure how to make it sound believable.
"You look worried," he said, cautiously - like he was afraid of what I was about to say.
"I just...I didn't think about that," I said. "Telling my parents. I don't even know how to start that conversation."
He shrugged. "Just tell them you fell in love. What's so difficult about that?"
"But my parents already know I came here for acting - not for some guy." My mouth twisted at the thought. "They know how much it means to me. They're not going to believe I left everything behind just to pursue the dream of getting some."
"You'll have to tell them you just kept it a secret." He shrugged, unconcerned. "You didn't think it was going anywhere serious at first, and then by the time you realized it, it had been going on too long and you didn't know how to bring it up. You moved to New York for acting, and to see if it was worth pursuing something with me. But you wanted to keep things private until you were sure it wasn't going to just fall apart."
I chewed on my lower lip. It wasn't the craziest thing I'd ever heard. It even sort of sounded like me; I'd kept most of my relationships secret from my parents when I was a teenager, because I hated the thought of their well-meaning interest and probing questions. I knew they'd always suspected it to be the case, so they wouldn't be all that surprised.
But they would feel betrayed, and I hated that thought. Doing this meant losing their trust, and that wasn't something I'd even thought about when I agreed to it. I was letting Ben into every part of my life, allowing him to affect my relationships with other people - letting him control what I said and did, even when we weren't together. If I let the truth slip out, the whole thing was ruined.
The thing was, I wanted to help him. I couldn't really explain why. There was something in his eyes when he talked about Daria, about his past...it was different. I never saw that look, except when he was thinking about her. It was like Daria was his only weakness, the one little break in his armor where he couldn't hide who he really was.