Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
As the moans on-screen grow louder, I look up at Julian in confusion and to my surprise, he’s frozen. There’s pure terror in his blue eyes and I realize that he’s barely breathing. What’s going on?
“Julian?” I ask, pulling away for a moment. “Is everything okay?”
He stares at me, his gaze blank and then suddenly jumps to his feet, practically knocking me to the ground.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, utterly confused. “What’s going on?”
But he doesn’t say anything coherent. Instead, he mumbles something about having too much wine and then dashes from the apartment, still buckling his pants as he runs. The door slams shut behind him and I’m left all alone in the small space, the stupid movie still babbling away.
Confused, I turn off the TV and sit there in stumped silence. What was that about? Did my man just suffer from his first case of erectile dysfunction?
Tears pool in my eyes because suddenly, the true reason is obvious. This was our first “real date,” but Julian just doesn’t see me that way. I’m not a woman that you take home to Mom. Instead, I’m a woman whom you fuck and then pay, and trying to shift things out of that milieu startled the billionaire so much that he couldn’t get hard.
How could I have been so naïve? I thought I could alter the narrative of our relationship, but obviously, I can’t. Now, I’ll probably never see Julian again and the thought breaks my heart. My stupid thoughts and actions have ruined everything, and the man I love is now gone for good.
8
Julian
* * *
I sit at my desk, tapping a pencil against the mahogany while staring at the wide-open vista of Manhattan visible through the floor to ceiling windows. But my eyes are blind because my thoughts are filled with the beautiful blonde whom I left last night. I’ve been in the office for four hours now, but my mind refuses to focus on the work I need to get done. Instead, I’m plagued with memories of Lindy. Shit, I fucked that one up.
My assistant knocks on the door.
“Come,” I growl.
Pam pokes her head in while peering around the door, blinking from behind her goggle-like glasses.
“You’ve looked better, Mr. Statham,” the middle-aged woman remarks.
I roll my eyes. My secretary takes too many liberties with me, but then again, she’s been with me for over a decade.
“What can I do for you, Pamela?”
She sighs.
“I wanted to let you know that the Union Square initiative is a go. We got approval from the city today, so should I contact the Parks Department regarding the final contract?”
I nod grimly.
“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks for staying on top of this.”
She nods.
“Sure no prob, Mr. Statham.” Pam pauses a moment as I raise an eyebrow.
“Is there anything else?”
My secretary shakes her head.
“No nothing. Just let me know if you need anything.”
Then she shuts the door and I’m left to the silence of my office once again. Fuck, what has my life come to? I bury my head in my hands. Erectile dysfunction? Is that my real problem, or is it something else?
After all, I have a problem that’s so humiliating that I can hardly even think about it. It’s from my past, and no one’s aware of it but me. But I force myself to breathe deep and acknowledge what happened: the reason I couldn’t get it up with Lindy is because we were on a date-date, and for some fucking reason, I can only have sex with prostitutes.
I feel dirty even just thinking about it. What kind of fucked up shit is this? What kind of man can only get hard when he’s paying for it?
Yet, I’ve had this hang-up forever, and I think it has to do with my childhood. I grew up in fucked-up circumstances and it’s affected me since. Sure, I started my own company and am the very picture of a successful billionaire. But you can have loads of money; live the high life; and yet be completely fucked in the head at the same time.
Even worse, Lindy thinks it’s her fault, my stupid brain reminds me. Why the hell didn’t I clarify for her? Why did I run off like a coward, blaming it on the alcohol?
Fuck me. I was such an idiot and I’ve only made things worse now. Even more, I know that Lindy wants more from me. I see the way her face lights with joy when I walk in the room, and how she has a special smile for me. I see the way her pupils dilate when we make love, and how she sighs my name when falling apart in my arms. The pretty blonde wants a real boyfriend, but I’m not the man for her. Not when I’m fucked up in the head like this.