by Mandy Rosko
“You let me fuck you with the possibility of being walked in on. Why is this different?” That cold expression was back. In his eyes and his voice. She didn’t like it.
“That’s completely different!”
“How?”
The problem was that she didn’t know how to describe that it was different, and his obnoxious demand for a proper definition was making her even more pissed off.
What made it even worse than that, was her suspicion that it had been a test. He’d been testing her to see if she would do it, and she wasn’t entirely sure if this was a pass or a fail.
After the trick he’d just tried to pull on her, Isla almost couldn’t contain herself.
She barely stopped her hand from flying. She didn’t believe a woman should hit a man any more than a man should hit a woman, and after slapping him and Sebastian, she was determined to keep herself from doing it again.
Not that it wasn’t fucking hard stopping herself from giving it to him. Arturo saw the way she lifted her hand before dropping it again, and he glared. “You want to do it, don’t you?”
“You’d deserve it!”
She was mortified. She hated him. Hated what he was turning her into and what he was doing to her.
She had enough. Isla grabbed up her dress from off the floor and barely pulled it on, not bothering with the zipper or anything before she ran clumsily to the door of the bathroom.
“Isla—”
“Fuck you!”
“Isla!”
Her heel slid on the marble that suddenly felt as slick as ice. She felt herself going down in slow motion, her head careening toward a full-on collision with the floor.
Arturo’s strong, huge hands grabbed her by the shoulder, but it wasn’t entirely enough to stop her momentum. His other hand went to the back of her head before her skull could make contact and crack wide open. He grunted as the bones of his hand took the impact instead of her head.
Isla almost hadn’t realized what was happening. Her heart slammed in her chest, even as her legs unfolded beneath her. She couldn’t think right, her head was still being cradled in Arturo’s hand, and now she was embarrassed and felt kind of like a wild rabbit that had come within an inch of the tires of a fast-moving vehicle.
Arturo’s mouth was set in a firm line as he eased her up into a sitting position on the tile. His hand remained tight on her shoulder. The one that her head had smashed into the tiled floor stayed limp at his side. “Are you okay?”
Her chest was heaving, and she couldn’t look him in the face. “I’m fine,” she said. She was kind of impressed with herself that she’d managed to get that much out.
Arturo had probably been so fast because he wasn’t wearing heels, or shoes in general. His feet had a better grip on the tile than her current footwear. Fast and quick thinking.
It could have been nothing. She could have just smacked her head, saw stars for a little bit, and that would’ve been the end of it. Other than being humiliated.
Or she could’ve wound up with a concussion. Or bleeding pools all over the perfectly tiled floor, which was now her enemy.
She didn’t know whether to thank him for saving her life, or stay silent with her dress barely hanging onto her shoulders.
Arturo leaned in and kissed her.
Unexpected. Too unexpected and she didn’t like it.
Isla pushed against his naked chest and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand just for good measure. She kicked off her shoes, too, before shrugging out of his grip and rushing back to her feet.
Let him keep the shoes if he liked them so damned much. He could kiss them if he wanted something to kiss. She was getting out of that damned bathroom and his room.
Arturo didn’t call out to her this time as she fled.
37
What if he kicked her out? What if that was a test and she’d failed? He wanted to see if she would do it, clearly, but she hadn’t done it. So that meant she’d failed the test, right?
She was contracted to let him do basically whatever he wanted to her, and she hadn’t done what he’d wanted. He’d even arranged everything so that she’d still be safe and hidden away when she went down on him. No one would have seen her. No one would have been gossiping about what a slut she was.
Unless someone had seen her in the foyer. Had that been a trick, too?
Isla groaned, pressing her face tighter into the pillow beneath her. Everything would’ve been better if Arturo had just confessed that no one could see her. She would’ve believed it after he’d shown her the different channels, proving it was a screen and not a real window, but he hadn’t.
Why was she so heartsick?
Isla pulled her face out of the pillow just long enough to take a proper breath. The pillow was damp and her eyes were wet, but she wasn’t ever going to admit to crying, because she wasn’t. That was stupid to cry. Crying required her to care. It required Arturo’s stupid opinion to matter about anything other than his stupid shark-like business.
It didn’t matter and neither did he. She was here because he wanted to embarrass her over telling him to fuck off that day.
The memory of it flashed briefly through her mind, remembering her shock over the gall he’d had and how she’d replied as haughtily as possible. It wasn’t an easy thing to look her nose down on a man who was taller than she was, but she’d done it that day.
So Arturo brought her here to show her who was really in charge, to make her his plaything. He even suspected something about her plans to make him like her. He’d been in control the entire time.
She clenched the pillow to her face and body a little tighter, as if that would hide her away from the world.
If he’d wanted to embarrass her, to teach her a lesson for turning him away, why bother with the games? Why not just do it? Why fake so many things with the hockey game, the foyer, and then the window that wasn’t actually a window? Why meet up with her parents?
She was so confused. She didn’t like feeling like this. It was irritating.
Isla would never make a good businesswoman. She couldn’t read people as well as she liked to think. She definitely couldn’t read Arturo. He was so damned mean sometimes, but then… after she’d fallen, he caught her and kissed her.
She didn’t understand. Now Isla was waiting around here to find out if she was going to get kicked out or not, because regardless of whether it had all been fake, she knew she didn’t pass his test. How could she have?
Isla’s phone started to vibrate somewhere. It was loud, loud enough to make her pull her face out of her pillow.
Sunlight blasted her in the face as it streamed in through the windows. It was bright and it was morning. She must have fallen asleep. That was shocking enough, but Isla glowered at the realization that she’d fallen asleep while thinking about Arturo, and how much he was confusing her and making her chest ache.
That was so annoying.
Her phone was on her nightstand where she’d left it the night before. She reached for it and saw Jane’s picture before she brought it to her ear.
“Hey.”
She let herself lie back down on the soft comforter and pillows. She didn’t feel like getting up.
Jane’s voice was kind of chipper this morning. “Isla! How did dinner with the parents go? You didn’t call or text me last night?”
Isla barely moved. She just stared out the window. “It was fine.”
“I had to lower myself to checking your mom’s Facebook. She didn’t mention any names, but you could tell she was talking about you and Arturo. I think she was impressed.”
Her mother. Her mother would be the most disappointed when she learned what was actually going on. “That’s great.”
There was a short pause on the line. Jane’s voice came back, kind of careful and a little worried this time. “Isla? Did something happen?”
Everything happened. “Nothing happened.”
Another short pause. “Why do you sound so sad? Did A
rturo hurt you?”
She wasn’t trying to sound sad. Her voice just happened to be monotone right about now. “No, I’m fine.”
Another silence. This time it was longer. “Do you want me to come over?”
“I’m at Arturo’s house.” She couldn’t exactly have guests.
“Oh, right,” Jane said. “You want me to pick you up? We can come back here and, I don’t know, hang out? Eat ice cream and drink beer with pizza.”
Isla didn’t mind the sound of that, but until she knew where things stood with Arturo and her contract, she wasn’t sure she should leave.
She told Jane as much, and thankfully, her friend didn’t push it.
Not too much, anyway. “Text me if something happens, okay?”
“Okay,” Isla said.
“You sure you can’t talk more about it?”
Isla needed to go back over her contract, but she was fairly sure that the clause that spelled out how she had to keep silent included telling Jane. It was probably bad enough that Jane knew as much as she did.
“I’m sure. I’ll text you later.”
“Sure,” Jane replied, but Isla barely heard it before she turned off her phone and rolled over on the mattress.
She was a mess, lying there on top of the sheets like this. She needed to get up. She needed to get ready. She had no idea what she was going to do, but she had to do something.
Isla sat up in her bed and looked around.
Maybe she should pack her things. She pulled herself to the edge of the bed.
A flush of embarrassment heated her body as she recalled her knee arched over Arturo’s shoulder as he kissed and licked at the folds of her vagina, thrusting inside of her like it was just another thing that he excelled at.
Practice made perfect, after all.
And there was no way Arturo would put his back to the window like that, showing off his naked ass, no matter how perfect it was, to anyone on staff who might happen to see it.
God, she was so stupid. Why hadn’t she thought of this until just now? It felt like there was two tons of humiliation crushing down on her. She should have known that window wasn’t real. No matter how much Arturo loved and appreciated himself and his body, he was still a man of business. Isla was willing to bet he didn’t get off on exhibitionism.
She wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
The knock at her door pulled her out of the slump she’d fallen into. She sat up straight, then stood because she didn’t want to be in bed right now. Her hands rushed to smooth out her hair and dress, which she realized was kind of pointless since it was the same dress she’d worn last night. Whoever saw her like this would know she wasn’t going for the purposely, messy look. She just looked like a mess.
“Come in,” she called.
Don’t be Arturo. Don’t be Arturo. Please don’t be Arturo.
The door opened and Isla’s shoulders slumped in a heavy sigh when Martina walked through the door.
She tensed right up again when Arturo walked in behind her.
Of course. The universe couldn’t give her a break. He even seemed to pause a little at the sight of her, his eyes roaming up and down her body, clearly noting what she was wearing.
So much heat filled her, climbing her neck and into her face. There was no way he didn’t notice that, too.
Stop looking. Please stop looking at me like that.
To add insult to injury, Arturo was dressed professionally and perfectly, as he always was. He was wearing another one of his tailored suits that made him look like he was staring in a Calvin Cline cologne commercial or something. His hair was slicked back and his face looked like it was chiseled by an artist.
She hated him for looking so perfect.
“Isla, I wanted to speak with you,” Arturo said, and despite the way he’d clearly studied her appearance, there was nothing in his tone or expression that gave away any of what he might be thinking about her. About how she was dressed, how her hair looked, or why her face was such a bright shade of red.
Hopefully, he thought that was from how angry she was, instead of being so embarrassed it was hard not to duck her head to hide her face.
Martina smiled a soft, pitying thing at her. Isla wasn’t sure whether or not she appreciated it.
“I’ve decided that you should go home.”
Isla’s eyes widened. She nearly fell back a step, but managed to hold on. Unfortunately, even after catching herself, it still made her look like his words had caused her to sway back a little. “I… what? Why?” Panic flooded her. “My contract isn’t up yet. I still have time here.”
“Your contract is up when I say it is,” Arturo said. “I didn’t just give you that contract because I got the idea from Fifty Shades. I got it to protect myself.”
“Protect you? From what?”
“From you,” Arturo accused, and his dark eyes narrowed. The half glare made him look dangerous. Cold. Empty. Anything negative she could think of.
“From me,” Isla said. “Right, because you were afraid I would sue you for all this.”
He didn’t deny it. Didn’t say anything else that would confirm or deny what she said, so Isla just ran with it. “Right. You’re not used to people acting normal around you, so you need things like this to protect yourself, even when you’re the one being an asshole.”
Isla turned her head to the side, because she couldn’t stand to look Arturo in the face, but also because she wanted to see what Martina was doing.
Martina was doing what Isla should have been doing in the first place. She was packing Isla’s clothes. She was preparing to get her out of here.
Isla didn’t care. Why should she care? This wasn’t her problem and she never wanted to be here in the first place.
She only cared about Baciami. That was the only thing she needed to concern herself with, so she forced anything else that might be making an attempt to grab her attention down. Down, down, down, squashing it deep inside where it wouldn’t matter anymore.
“I assume that because things did not work out the way you wanted, that you’ll be keeping Baciami Boutique?”
Martina was quick with what she did, folding even Isla’s dirty clothes in a neat pile before putting them into the bags that Isla had arrived with. She didn’t touch Isla’s jewelry kit or any of her tools, which she was grateful for. Martina already knew Isla was particular when it came to her supplies. She just hoped Arturo would get out of here soon so he wouldn’t have to see her pack up the rest of her things.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Isla swore she felt a vein in her forehead throb. The damned nerve of this guy! After everything he did, he was going to act so superior and pissed off that she wasn’t listening?
“I heard. I get it. You’re keeping Baciami.”
Her stupid voice quivered just a little. Fuck. Why did that have to happen?
And why did Arturo have to be looking at her like that? So cold, like this whole thing was an annoyance. She wanted to run out of here, but if she did, she’d just make herself look as bad as she had last night when she ran. She couldn’t move. She was stuck here with Arturo standing between her and the door, one hand down at his side, and the other in his pocket. He was cool as a cucumber.
And she was a disaster.
“A new contract will be sent to your apartment by the end of the week,” Arturo said. “If you want the company back, you will sign it.”
Isla’s eyes widened, and a lot of the tension that had been building in her throat, making it hurt, making it sore, melted away.
She looked up at Arturo’s still-cold face. She could read absolutely nothing in his eyes. He stared at her like a man of his stature would stare at the person who prepared his coffee and had the nerve to get it wrong.
She didn’t know what to think. Why was he staring at her like that? What was she supposed to say to him?
Why did this make her feel like she wanted to be sick? Even when he said something good, her b
ody burned up.
Maybe she was getting a fever. She had slept in sweaty, dirty clothes last night, though now it sounded like she was making excuses.
“So, you’re giving back the company?”
“Don’t get your hopes up. I never said that.”
The dark weight that had been pressing on her shoulders ever since she got back to her room last night, increased, this time pressing against the top of her skull like an anvil. It gradually increased until she could really feel the press of it, and it was going to give her a migraine.
An angry migraine. “Don’t get my hopes up?”
If Arturo detected the dangerous note to her voice, he ignored it.
“Just read the contract when you get it.”
He turned to go, but Isla stepped forward. “But wait, why are you sending me away?”
Her time wasn’t up yet. She hadn’t fulfilled her part of the deal. He owed her nothing.
Arturo just looked at her, that same expressionless face that she couldn’t read, the same cold air about him. So much the same, and so much different.
He looked away from her. “I got what I wanted. There’s no point anymore.”
“No…”
He walked away, leaving her bedroom, and Isla was alone with Martina.
“…point.”
She stood there, unable to look away from the spot where he once stood.
No point. He got what he wanted. Well, he had wanted the sex, and he got his fair share of that, sort of.
They hadn’t even had a lot of sex. He’d been busy with work, so that didn’t exactly leave them fucking like bunnies every day. Still, she supposed that even once was enough. He’d wanted to have sex with her, wanted to put her in her place, and regardless of how many times they did it, or if she refused in the end, he still got what he wanted.
He wasn’t lying then.
Isla looked back to Martina. The woman was no longer smiling. She seemed to be doing her best to not look at her. Like this whole thing was one big embarrassment.
Isla was pretty embarrassed by everything, too. She hadn’t wanted to hide her face like this since she’d been in her first year of high school. It felt like if she moved around too much or breathed too hard, everyone around her would be able to hear the way her heart thumped in her chest.