Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 106065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
I wiped my mouth with a napkin and heard Lane’s questions rattling around in my head. And I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure I could pinpoint what it was with Marcus that’d mesmerized me two years ago. Other than his charisma, but that had changed. I could think back on so many memories, remembering how I’d thought his smile could light up a room. Something that felt almost tainted now.
It wasn’t without some resentment that I’d witnessed him captivate his future employers in Denver. Sure, they loved him. Most people did, especially when it was work-related. He was a natural salesman, only he sold pitches and designs and ideas and concepts for a living, not shirts or TVs.
He was so fucking good at talking. A master of persuasion.
Mom once called him smarmy.
Greer had never called him anything, but I knew. The night Marcus had given another sub a beating in front of me, Greer had come over to me, in the middle of our scene, which was such a big no-no, and he’d made things clear. I’d seen the contempt he held for my Daddy in his eyes. In his gorgeous silvery-greenish eyes…
I could still hear him over the loud music in the nightclub.
“Corey will show up tomorrow, Marcus. If he doesn’t, we’ll think something is wrong, and you don’t want me knocking on your door. Do you understand me?”
“Is that a threat, Greer?”
“It sure as fuck ain’t pillow talk.”
I took a gulp of my lemonade and felt a little queasy. Marcus had lied to me. No matter how much I defended his actions, I couldn’t ignore that he’d lied. He was the reason I’d only ever had a single session with Master Greer. Because the second time we were supposed to meet up, Marcus had told me he’d spoken to Greer, who had to cancel because he was sick. And he hadn’t been! He hadn’t been sick at all.
Why had Marcus lied?
Why was I afraid to ask him?
“Crap,” I whispered to myself. I was getting a stomachache. No more chicken for now.
I couldn’t handle all these uncertainties and the confusion. It was the very reason I’d left my old community. I hated drama, I hated insecurities, I hated when the ground beneath my feet wasn’t solid.
I hated the guilt…
It always followed when I allowed myself to acknowledge my doubts and unease.
Because I was wrong to have doubts, Daddy told me. If I doubted him, it meant I didn’t trust him, and that was the biggest kick in the head a Daddy could receive.
Another thing—if I wanted to come up with bad things, it was easy to do so. And why would I want that? Because I was a moron who didn’t deserve Marcus, maybe? When in reality, I knew very well what wonderful things he’d done for me. Like, I had my own room at his place. He still wanted me next to him in his bed, but if I needed a time-out, I had my own space. And he kept my favorite snacks around the house too. My favorite body wash that made a lot of bubbles in the tub. He usually let me pick the movies. He held my hand every eight weeks when I went to wax my butt.
Last but not least, he put up with my crap. His life would’ve been so much easier without me in it, but he stuck around—even when I didn’t. After all, I was gone almost two months every summer, sometimes May and June, sometimes June and July, and not every partner would’ve accepted that.
Releasing a big breath, I crammed all my jumbled thoughts into a box and decided that, one, my Daddy had his shortcomings but was still the best Daddy in the world—I had to believe that—and, two, I didn’t want to move to Denver but would do it for him, and, three, until we moved, I was going to spend as much time as I could with my friends. In fact, I would book my favorite guest room at House Mclean and ask Cam, Noa, Kit, and a few others if they wanted to do something tomorrow. Maybe we could have a sleepover.
There. I felt marginally better now. And the things that didn’t ring true would have to be reflected upon later. I had to go home and get ready for tonight.
After gathering my stuff, I pushed pause on the music and went over to the counter. The lunch crowd had disappeared, so it was fairly empty in here.
“Hi, Tina. May I have a lid for my bucket, please?” I asked.
“Sure thing.” She reached under the counter and grabbed me a lid. “I’m guessin’ I’ll see you soon?”
I grinned and attached it to the bucket, already looking forward to finishing the chicken when I got home. “Oh yeah. Have a great weekend.”