To that, his lips twitched slightly. "Guess he was right about you," he said and I imagined he was lectured about my being difficult. Which was fine. I was okay with that. "I'm gonna show you around the grounds then you're gonna run errands with me."
"Errands? You're an errand boy?" I asked, trying and failing to keep myself from smiling.
"I do what I am paid to do," Matt said simply. "Now, if you wanna go to the store like that, fine by me, honey. You'll make me look good. If not, you have five minutes to get into something else."
"Christ. Does he buy you guys in bulk? Is there some Assholes-R-Us store around to pick up a truck load of you?" I asked, brushing past him toward the stairs because, yeah, there was no way I was stepping out of the house in my whore's uniform. So I ran upstairs, stripped out of all my uncomfortable clothes that were, with time, almost becoming comfortable. Almost. I grabbed a pair of gray wash skinny jeans and an old black Disney villains t-shirt. I slipped into bright yellow ballet flats, tied up my hair, and grabbed my wallet. Because, well, if we were hitting the store, I wanted to be able to pick up some things.
With that, I ran back down the stairs, keeping my pace brisk but not overly hurried so he didn't think I was being a good little follower. "Fucking serious with that getup?" he asked, shaking his head as he looked me up and down from my shoes to my hair.
"Yep. Are we going?" I asked, maybe a bit of eagerness in my voice.
While, true, I had gotten out the night before, the thrill of it was buried deep under the emotional upheaval that took place. It would be nice to get away. Even if that meant I had to deal with Matt's surly ass. At least I didn't have to worry about having the irrational desire to jump Matt's bones like I did with Byron. Plus, the literal distance might give me a chance to create some real figurative distance with Byron. I needed perspective. I needed to get my head on straight.
"Yeah, sure. Errands or grounds first?" he asked as we moved toward the door.
"I have a choice?" I asked, beaming maybe a bit too wide for such a small little victory. "Um... errands."
"Alright," he said, walking out the door and leading me down the driveway to a sleek white sports car.
"Is this Byron's?" I asked as Matt moved to open the door for me.
"No," he said, waiting for my feet to get safely inside before slamming the door on me. I guess that was that. And I also guessed that Byron St. James paid really well if his security guards could afford cars that looked almost as expensive as his.
Errands for Matt and me and, ultimately, Byron, included a trip to two separate banks, Mandy's, and the post office. During all of those visits, I was forced to stay in the car. Which was fine by me. I didn't like going to the post office or bank for myself; I certainly didn't want to go there for someone else.
After those errands, we hit the grocery store. And, well, yeah... I wasn't left in the car like a dog that time. I stocked up on granola bars and fruit bars and little snack baggies of trail mix, cradling everything to my chest as Matt methodically threw things into the cart off a list he had in his cell until the cart was almost overflowing. "Alright, go HAM," he told me as we stopped at the top of an aisle, waving a hand down it.
"Go HAM?" I parroted back.
"Hard as a mothe..."
"I know what HAM means; I'm not eighty," I said with an eye roll. "Go HAM with what?"
"Baking shit," Matt supplied, holding out his cell to where the last item on the list said: 'Whatever Prue needs for baking'.
Well, I didn't need to be told again. If he wanted me to go HAM, I was going HAM. I practically cleared the shelves with one hand as I held my own stuff.
"Wanna talk about it?" Matt asked, standing back with a raised brow and a smirk.
"Talk about what?"
"Why you feel the need to make Byron buy eight pounds of sugar."
"He has a sweet tooth," I supplied with a shrug.
"I can see that," he said with a strange smile I didn't trust.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're sweet," he said casually.
"I'm not sweet," I bristled, unsure why I would consider that an insult, but I did.
"Honey, sweet as fucking stolen candy."
"Why would you say that? I haven't done anything even remotely..."
"The shirt. The shoes. The fact that you ain't got a lick of makeup on and you're pretty as shit. You got an armload of food that you're gonna try to stash in that sexy as fuck uniform he makes you wear because you're afraid to demand he let you have regular food breaks. Also, you're holding 'em like you think there's even a chance of me letting you pay for that. And not for nothin', honey, but your face lit up like Christmas morning when I said you could buy whatever baking shit you wanted. Sweet."
"Yeah, well, that has nothing to do with our boss," I said, dumping the contents of my arms into the already overflowing cart.
"Sure it doesn't."
"He barely even notices me." Okay, that was an outright lie, but I was trying to save face.
"Sure he doesn't," he said, his lips twitching again.
"It's not like that."
"Honey," he said, ducking his head a little, his gray eyes looking amused.
"Honey what?"
"The men talk."
"Okay..." I said, raising my brows.
"Heard he carried you out of the car last night..."
"I fell asleep."
"Heard you cuddled in and he carried you up the stairs and," he paused, leaning closer, "to his room."
"It's. Not. Like. That," I insisted, wanting him to believe it almost as much as I wanted myself to believe it.
"You could do worse," he said, head tilted like maybe he picked up on the desperation in my voice.
"I could do a heck of a lot better too," I said, but again, even I didn't truly believe it.
"The fuck he do to you to make you think he's some kind of monster? Like it or not, honey, but he's a good man."
"Says someone who doesn't have to walk around in lingerie during their shift."
"Come on now, can you blame him?" Matt asked, finally giving me a smile that actually crinkled the sides of his eyes. "Looking like you look. Plus, he knew he could get away with it."
"Get away with it. You make it sound like I have a choice."
"Don't you?"
"Ah, no. My first day, he told me to wear that whore uniform and that was that."
"And you did it?"
"Matt, I know you work for him. As in work for him. You get a paycheck that bought you that nice car out front. But I don't work for him. I'm here because I have to be here. I don't have a choice."
"There's always a choice. You made the choice to be here. You made the choice to tiptoe around the house in those heels as to not cause a stir. Ever think of telling him to go fuck himself?"
"Ever consider what the consequences of that could be?"
"What? What could they be? He won't hurt you. So what could he possibly do?"
Yeah, well, when he put it that way... he was right. He gave me his word that was supposedly everything. He wouldn't hurt me. So he would... what? Be an asshole? He was an asshole half the time. Give me more menial jobs? I could deal with anything if I could do it while mostly clothed. My father was in rehab. He was safely behind locked doors. And even if he wasn't, Byron gave his word about not hurting him as well. He had nothing on me.
"Well, shit," I said, huffing out my breath.
"You can still be sweet while telling him to kindly kiss your ass," he said, throwing my own words from earlier back at me.
"You've created a monster, Matt," I told him as we moved up the aisle back toward the check-out.
"Glad I could help," he told me, shouldering me out of the way when I tried to help load things up onto the belt.
We got back and I was forced to sit on the counter and watch him load the groceries in. After that, he took me for a walk of the pool, cabanas, tennis courts, th
e running track, the hot tub, everything the property had to offer. After that, he informed me that he was off duty and I was on my own. With no further instructions for my day, I hung out in the kitchen with Ella, chatting, helping hand her things while she cooked.
Sometime in the late afternoon, Byron came striding into the kitchen, going to the coffee pot without having noticed my presence. "Hey look," I said to Ella, watching his back stiffen. "He does know where the coffee pot is!"
"I do," he said, turning back around to look over at where I was sitting on the island popping peas out of the pods and into a giant bowl in my lap. "But why I am the one filling it is beyond me."
"I believe I was told that I needed to get out of your hair for the day," I informed him with a casual shrug even though nothing about the conversation felt casual to me.
"Oh, boy," Ella said, picking up on the electric sparking between our bodies. "Okay. I know when I need to go check the contents of the second refrigerator," she said, patting my knee as she walked past then scurrying down the hall to wherever the second refrigerator was.
"What's with the clothes?" he asked, waving his mug at me.
"I like them more than my uniform," I said with a chin lift. "Matt thinks they're sweet," I added for emphasis.
"Does he now?" Byron asked, his face and tone a little darker than usual.
"Yep," I said with a shrug, turning back to popping peas.
"Did you two have fun today?" he asked, the word 'fun' sounding strange on his lips.
"Well, as much fun as you can have in a grocery store, I guess."
Even with my head ducked, I could see him moving across the room toward me. He stopped directly in front of me, slamming his coffee mug down on the counter several inches from my thigh and reaching for the bowl on my lap, grabbing it and slamming it down next to his mug. "Never had you pegged for fickle."
"Well," I said, forcing myself to lift my head and hold his gaze even though the fire there made me want to squirm. "That might be because you don't know the first thing about me."
"Oh, fuck off," he said, almost smiling. Almost. "I know you. I fucking know you better than you know yourself."
"You can't..."
"Why? Because I don't know what your favorite movie is? Your favorite breakfast foods?"
"Partly, yeah."
"Little things."
"The little things make up the big things."
"No, they don't. The big things make up the big things. The little things don't mean shit."
"They do to me," I insisted.
"Fine. Enlighten me."
"Beauty And The Beast and avocados on toast."
"I'll have to overlook that avocado shit," he said, pressing his pelvis into my knees until they opened around the sides of his body.
"What's wrong with avocados?"
"Everything," he said, grabbing my hips and dragging me forward until my pelvis pushed into his. "Do you want to fuck Matt?"
"I dunno. He's good looking. He calls me 'honey'," I added, tilting my head to the side as I watched his handsome face, maybe a little too pleased at the idea of him being jealous.
"Honey?" he repeated, lips curving up slightly like the idea of that was ridiculous.
"Uh-huh. And he told me that I was sweet as stolen candy."
"Yeah, well, he'd be a pretty shitty security guard if he didn't notice obvious shit."
"So you think so too, huh?" I asked, trying hard to fight the insecurity at flirting with him. It wasn't like me. I wasn't flirty by nature. But it was fun to have an exchange with Byron that wasn't cool and distant or hot and intense. It was nice for things to be... normal.
"Maybe. I could use a better... taste before I make my decision," he said, his grin turning wicked, his eyes getting hot. And I was pretty damn sure that he wasn't talking about my mouth.
"Gee, I dunno. I was taught something about candy and strangers..."
"So you don't want to fuck Matt?"
"Are you jealous?"
"I don't share my candy, Prue."
"What happened to one and done?" I asked.
"Different."
"How is it different?"
"Do you always have to be so fucking difficult?"
"Yes," I said, with a small smile.
"I don't fucking know, babe. It just is. Lyla was an itch that needed scratching. That's it. Nothing more. Didn't need to rake my skin raw after I got it to go away."
And, well, that did kind of make sense. In a total douchebag kind of way.
"So I'm... not an itch?" I asked, my throat a little tight at asking something that needy, but needing to understand where he was coming from or I would drive myself insane.
"Honestly, babe, I don't know what the fuck you are. I can't give you promises. I'm not that kind of man. Maybe once will get it out of our systems, maybe not. I have no fucking clue. I just know that this needs to happen."
"Have you considered how this might not be a great..."
"Babe, it could end up like an atomic bomb."
"But you still want..."
"Think I've proved that I want you, Prue."
They weren't flowery words, but they made my belly do a strange little flip-flop.
I swallowed hard, willing myself to choke out the words that felt caught at the back of my throat. I wasn't a good communicator in general, but when it came to things like sex, I was downright atrocious. But I wanted to step out of that comfort zone. I wanted to push my own limits. Those parts of me, they could only come out and exist if I allowed them to.
"I want you too," I admitted, my words barely an airy whisper, but they came out and, judging by the way that his face seemed to almost soften a little, suggested he heard. "I mean I know you know that. I just... I wanted..."
"You don't need to clarify that statement," he said gently. "I know you want me," he said, leaning forward slightly so his face ducked down near my neck, his breath warm on it, "but that doesn't mean I don't like hearing it." I felt myself shiver at the same time my insides flip-flopped. His lips pressed into the sensitive inch of skin directly under my ear. My air sighed out of me as the tip of his tongue traced the spot as well. One of his hands grabbed my hip and pressed me tightly against him, making me acutely aware of his cock against my heat. My legs rose up, going tight against his hips, my arms grabbing his shoulders. "Nuh-uh," he said, pulling back against my hold.
"What?" I asked, opening my heavy eyes to find him looking way too pleased with himself.
"Not here. Not in the middle of the day. Not with Ella eavesdropping."
"Ella is checking the second fridge," I insisted, wrapping my legs a little tighter.
"Babe, I don't have a second fridge."
It was so unexpected, a surprised and loud laugh erupted out of me, making me throw my head back. When I looked back at Byron, he was watching me intensely, lips curved up ever so slightly. "You didn't even flinch at her lie!"
"Ella has worked for me a long time, babe. Nothing she could say could make me flinch."
"She's not really eavesdropping is she?" I asked, dropping my voice low.
"I bet she was until I declared that she was."
"Oh, my God," I groaned, face-planting into his chest in embarrassment. I'd told him I wanted him while she was listening on? That was just... humiliating.
"She likes you," he said oddly, his hand landing in the center of my back.
"That just makes it worse," I said, shaking my head.
"She likes you enough to tell you to run screaming."
"Probably smart advice," I mused, knowing I should pull backward, but it felt good to be there like that. It felt right to share the moment with him.
"You should follow it. I'm not a bad man, Prue. But I'm not a good one either."
"You're trying to talk me out of it?" I asked his chest, my brows drawing together.
"Just reminding you of what I told you last night. I am what I am and I'm not
gonna change."
"I wasn't asking you to."
"No. But you will."
"That's a little presumptuous," I said, finally pulling back, wanting to have that conversation face-to-face.
"It's honest. I don't do love and flowers, babe. And women, they want love and flowers. They want their happily ever afters and their prince charmings."
"You're being..."
"Forthcoming," he cut me off. "You won't get flowers from me. And I don't do love. But I'll fuck you until you forget those things even exist. I'll make you come until you can't move afterward. Then I'll do it all over again. You want that, you understand that, then we're good. If not, listen to Ella when she comes in here and tells you to steer the fuck clear of me."
Deciding to leave me to think on that, he pulled back from me, grabbed his coffee in one hand and the bowl of peas in the other, handing it to me, then walking out of the room like nothing had happened. Meanwhile I felt a flush covering every inch of skin.
"Prudence," Ella said, walking in a minute later, her tone taking on an edge that I could only describe as motherly even though I had no personal experience with such a thing.
"You dirty liar, you," I said, small-eying her to try to cover my own embarrassment.
"Don't change the subject. Byron? You? What could you be thinking?"
"I know he seems like..."
"You don't need to tell me what he is and isn't, sweetheart," she said, moving over to the sink and leaning against it, crossing her arms over her chest, and staring right at me. "I have worked for that man for ten years and his uncle ten years before that. I saw him when he first moved into this house. I have watched him grow into the man he is. I know him. I know what he is and isn't. And he wasn't trying to be self-deprecating when he tried to warn you off. He was trying to be decent. You're a good girl. You can bristle at that all you want, but it doesn't change the fact that you are. And good girls shouldn't go anywhere near men like him."
"I'm not expecting..."
"Yes, yes you are," she cut me off, shaking her head. "You can look at me and see an old woman..."
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