Playing Hard to Master

by Sparrow Beckett

  “Thank you for being willing to help, but I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

  “If she seriously broke up with you just because you’re rich, she’s a twit.” Sindee shook her head, and went back to Konstantin’s lap. “If she’s not interested in you, I have about a million friends who’d be more than willing to wait in line just to be introduced. Like me, for instance. When Konstantin’s new little wife comes, keep me and Anna in mind. You guys are fun to hang out with, you treat your slaves like gold, and the fact that you have money means we get spoiled. If she’s thinks she’s too good for you, she should give her head a shake.”

  Sindee was interested in his love life? She was interested in him? It was an awkward conversation, considering she was sitting in his best friend’s lap, but at least she and Anna didn’t think he was an asshole.

  “I’m not ready to give up on her.” The swell of emotion that came when he thought about walking away from Everly permanently thickened his throat and gave him a headache. He couldn’t just forget about her. And if it took her weeks, or even years, to come back to him, he’d fucking wait. Waiting for her, even if there was the slightest chance, was worth every miserable second.

  His mind drifted to the passionate way she talked about human rights, and dignity for the poor, the fire that lit her from within. The way she challenged how he saw the world. Everly was so much more than a sexy girl with kink on her mind. She was that, of course, but there was a depth to her that had slowly been changing him, too, making him see where he was lacking as a person and challenging him to grow—to be worthy of her.

  There was no moving on when the person who had become his life wanted nothing to do with him.

  * * *

  Flipping through the seven zillion channels he had access to was completely unsatisfying, considering none of them had a live feed of her day. He’d settle for seeing her do almost anything. All he had of her was three pictures on his phone, one of which he’d printed out and put in a frame. It was grainy but better than nothing.

  Pitiful.

  And why hadn’t he taken more photos when they were together? Idiot. He’d been too busy enjoying their life together

  It should have been a good day. He’d gotten through a whole hour and a half without feeling like someone had gutted him, because he’d been dealing with a situation at the office.

  Now, alone at home with no work to do, his house felt huge and ridiculous and excessive. Why did one person need all this space? Maybe one of those really small homes, like he’d seen on TV, would be better for him. A house this big needed more people—like a wife and children, or maybe a small village—to fill it. Everything he owned that was expensive made him feel ashamed. How much wealth was too much for one person? But at the same time, was he supposed to give everything away? He’d tried asking Banner and Ambrose what they thought, which had turned into a long philosophical discussion about capitalism, but they hadn’t answered his questions.

  He stopped flipping channels when he got to one that showed wide-eyed, starving children in rags. Maybe even giving his money away wasn’t enough. Maybe he should go back to school to become a doctor or something, so he could do some real good in the world.

  No wonder she hated him.

  This was stupid. What he needed to do was get off his ass and go to The Catacombs and hang out with the guys. They’d invited him to go, but he’d declined, saying he was going to make himself a big dinner. Instead he’d sat on the couch as though he’d rooted there. Being around Kon with his girls and Banner with his new wife would only feed his pity party.

  The phone rang, and he realized with annoyance that he’d left it on the kitchen island. Too far. Four more rings and voicemail would kick in. Three. Two. At the last second, he lurched up from the couch and sprinted into the kitchen to get the phone, hoping he hadn’t exerted himself for a telemarketer or the guys nagging him to quit being a loser and meet them at the dungeon.

  “Hello?”

  There was silence for a moment, and he rolled his gaze to the ceiling, waiting for an automated telemarketer spiel to begin.

  “Ambrose?” The voice was so quiet he barely heard it over his own breathing.

  “Yes?”

  “I . . . You can hang up on me if you want, but I had no one else to call. My mom is out of town with her boyfriend.”

  Everly? His heart struggled to find its rhythm again. “No, it’s okay. What’s wrong?” He could almost hear his heart pounding in his throat. Ask me for anything, and it’s yours.

  “I was at a protest today.”

  “Oh. For what? I hope it went well.” Okay, so that wasn’t the smoothest response, but talking to her at all, after so long, made him panic about saying the wrong thing.

  “Not so well, actually. I—I need someone to come bail me out.”

  Ambrose blinked at the sugarcane in the vase on his counter. “Bail you out?” he asked stupidly. Hearing her voice was such a surprise that he was having trouble focusing on what she was saying.

  “I’m in a holding cell at the police station.” She said it so quietly that, for a moment, he thought he’d imagined it. “There was some trouble. A few of the people we recruited to come with us got out of hand, and when I was trying to clear people off the street, I got arrested for blocking the intersection. It’s just a temporary loan. I have the money, I just have to shift things around. It won’t take long, I swear.”

  “Bail for you blocking an intersection shouldn’t be much.” Ambrose put on his shoes and grabbed his keys and wallet, and ran out to his car with the cell phone still pressed against his ear.

  “Um. Actually,” she hesitated, “I was wondering if I could borrow some money to bail everyone out. It’s my fault they’re here, and I feel just awful about it. I can’t leave while they’re stuck here. It would be wrong and selfish. But I have the money and I’d pay you back with interest. It would take me a week at the most. I’d understand if you didn’t want to. I can just stay here and wait for my mom to get back. Really, it’s not a big d—”

  “Everly.” He stopped her rambling when it sounded like she was about to cry. “Of course I’ll bail you out. And your friends. We’ll talk about repaying me later.” As if he’d let her. “I’m on my way. I’m getting in my car now. Stay put.” As if she were going anywhere. Idiot.

  He could hear how badly her pride was wounded having to ask him for help like this. She was an independent woman, and would probably have had a hard time asking him even when they were together.

  When he got downtown, he parked across from the police station and pumped money into the meter. How long did this sort of thing take? Oh well, a possible ticket was the least of his concerns.

  Inside, there was no line. Still, he probably wore a path pacing the tile floor, waiting for them to get her. When Everly emerged, he was so relieved that he almost hugged her. Instead he stalled in front of her, not sure what to do.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I just want to get out of here.” She was more beautiful than he remembered, even with tired eyes and some dirt smudged on her nose.

  He hovered around her, the overwhelming urge to protect her making him feel crazy.

  It took a long while to arrange bail for all of the protesters who’d been arrested, and put them in cabs home, but eventually everything got done.

  They walked back to his car, and he helped her in, then he slid behind the wheel. “What would you like? Are you hungry?”

  “I’m hungry, but I’m not in the mood sit in a restaurant right now. I’m fine. I’ll just make myself some toast when I get home.”

  “After everything that happened to you today, I can’t let you have toast for dinner. I had a big meal planned, but I haven’t started cooking yet. Do you want to come over? No strings attached. If that’s too awkward, I can just grab the stuff from my place and we could go over to your apartment.” Maybe his fingers had tightened around the steering wheel, but she was too distracted to notice. He
tried to keep his breathing normal, but if she said yes to this, maybe she’d give him a chance to explain.

  “I’d like that. Thank you, Ambrose.” Her eyes were red-rimmed.

  Thoughts were nagging at him, and he had to ask. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t need to go to the hospital or something?”

  She looked at him like he’d grown another head. “Why on earth would I need to go to the hospital?”

  Ambrose was glad for the chaotic traffic because it meant he couldn’t just sit there and stare at her like a lovesick puppy. Until he asked the questions, though, his protective side wouldn’t shut the hell up. “No one, uh, was too familiar with you? You didn’t get beaten when you were in the shower or something?”

  “I was in a holding cell in the police station for a few hours, not in prison.” She rolled her eyes. “There was absolutely no reason for me to take a shower, and no one made me their bitch while I was there, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  He relaxed back into his seat, and realized how cold he was. He cranked the heat in his car, but it didn’t substitute for the fact that he’d forgotten to wear a jacket. Adrenaline had probably kept him warm up until now.

  “Sorry, I was already worried,” he admitted, feeling ridiculous. “This was just the icing on the cake.”

  “Worried?”

  “Just about how you were doing. I know you’re a grown-up and you don’t need my help, but . . .” It probably wasn’t the right time to bring this up, so he changed the subject. “When we get back to my place, I’ll call my lawyer to find out who the best criminal defense lawyer is in town. Don’t worry about anything—I’ll take care of it.”

  Everly laughed dryly. “I’m getting the impression that if I’d tried to kill you, you’d still hire me a lawyer.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. If you tried to kill me, I’d just pull you over my lap and paddle your ass until you were a very sorry girl.” Shit. He seriously just said that out loud? “Fuck, I’m sorry. I had so many different things I wanted say to you rehearsed, but you’re in my car for five minutes and I’m automatically threatening to punish you.”

  “Some habits die hard.” She shrugged. “Anyway, you slipped. I get it. You just bailed me out of jail. I’m hardly going to give you a hard time about a little teasing.”

  They rode in silence for a while, and Ambrose decided against several different topics, because all of them seemed to come back to him being overly familiar with her. They hadn’t discussed what had happened between them, and until they did, he wasn’t sure where the lines in the sand were drawn.

  They reached his house about fifteen minutes later. He helped her out of the car and followed her up the front walk, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans so that he didn’t accidentally touch her. He wanted to more than anything.

  “I’ll get dinner going now. You can go ahead and relax on the couch. Take a nap if you want. Or feel free to take a shower or bath. You know where my clothes are if you want to borrow something.” He yanked his gaze away from her when he realized he was staring. Quit being creepy, Ambrose.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Everly smile at him, a true and happy smile. “Oh God, I could seriously use a hot bath. I don’t think I’ve warmed up since the protest.” Without hesitation, she headed down the hall then up the stairs. Ambrose mentally followed her footsteps. The fact that she was acting like she owned the place both pleased and upset him. He wanted her to feel like she was welcome there, but the pretentiousness of the house embarrassed him more now that she knew it was his.

  It was impossible to forget that she was there while he could hear the water running. When the water stopped, the issue became thinking about her getting naked and climbing into the bath. He started preparing dinner, searing meat, and chopping vegetables, while controlling his avalanche of feelings. She probably wouldn’t appreciate it if he went charging up the stairs and tried to invite himself into her bath, let alone if he kissed her and ran his hands over her skin, and then tried to seduce her into his bed.

  He texted Konstantin and Banner for advice, but they didn’t text back. The Catacombs was a loud place. He was on his own.

  Fuck, he was so going to screw this up.

  Focusing on making dinner helped. When the food was ready, he set it aside to keep it warm. He waited. A while later, when she still hadn’t come down, he went up to his room and knocked on the bathroom door.

  “Everly? The food is ready. No rush though. I can always warm it up for you when you get out.” There was no response, so he knocked again. Nothing. “Everly? Are you okay?”

  Still nothing.

  His instincts kicked in, and he turned the doorknob, opening the door just enough so that she’d be able to hear him more clearly. When there was still no answer, he glanced in. Everly was sound asleep in the tub, her face blissful.

  Shit.

  He thought about going back downstairs and letting her rest for a while, but then he started getting mental images of her sliding under the water. She seemed so sound asleep. It wasn’t safe. She could drown.

  Hoping he didn’t piss her off, he patted her shoulder. Nothing. He tried hard not to let his gaze drift downward, but this was like setting a starving man set loose in a five-star restaurant.

  “Everly? Ev?” He shook her shoulder, and blearily, she blinked up at him.

  “Hi.” The word was breathy, and interest stirred behind her golden eyes.

  “Hi.” He smiled, trying to keep his own interest from showing before things got out of hand. “You fell asleep, sweet girl. Dinner is ready, if you’re still hungry. Do you need help getting out?”

  Like a sleepwalking child, she reached for him, trusting that he’d take care of her. Her trust squeezed the breath out of him. Their fingers laced together, and he stared at them as he helped her to her feet. So perfect. She stood there, swaying, watching him. He lifted her out and put her on the bathmat, then wrapped a fluffy towel around her. A shiver shook her from head to toe, and she leaned into him. Unable to stop himself, he hugged her to him and rubbed her back.

  “Are you too sleepy to eat?”

  She shook her head. From the bedroom, he grabbed a T-shirt and track pants, then dressed her when she didn’t seem inclined to dress herself. Did she have any clue how beautiful she was? Her face was so dear to him that he ached to cover it with kisses. The column of her bare neck, the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, had him staring, enraptured, when he shouldn’t have been. The warm scent of her made him want to taste her and remind her of how well they fit together. His dick was hard, but right then he just wanted her in his arms, in his bed. Safe.

  Instead, he rolled thick socks onto her tiny feet and led her downstairs, guiding her so she didn’t stumble.

  “I don’t remember being this tired in my whole life. I feel drunk,” she murmured.

  He chuckled. “I can tell.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you dress me, but even lifting my arms is hard.”

  She shouldn’t know how much pleasure he got from taking care of her.

  He settled her at the table, then dished food onto plates and poured them both tea.

  “Thanks again. My mom is out of town, and I couldn’t think of anyone else who could front me the money. I’m going to pay you back though. I’ll go to the bank first thing in the morning.”

  Ambrose sat down, waving her promise away. She would do no such thing, but he didn’t feel like arguing now. He cut her food, in case she was too tired to do it. When she didn’t pick up her fork, he skewered a piece of meat for her and put it to her lips. She opened her mouth and took it, then accepted her fork back from him.

  “I’ve been keeping the food warm for a while. I hope it’s not dried out.”

  Her eyes fluttered shut, and she groaned in pleasure. The sound was like a jolt of electricity straight into his jeans. He could think of several more pleasurable ways of making her groan than feeding her, but he doubted that
would ever happen again. At least she was being civil and letting him help her.

  “You have every right to be angry.”

  “I do. Lies don’t belong in relationships.”

  He nodded once, and the tiny amount of hope that had blossomed in him shriveled back up. Her tone said she hadn’t forgiven him. And here he’d thought he might have changed her mind.

  Did he deserve to be forgiven? No.

  They ate for a few minutes, and the haze of exhaustion that had clouded Everly seemed to lift. “This is awesome. So much better than toast.”

  Ambrose laughed in spite of himself, considering it was a pretty fancy dinner, even for him.

  When she laid her cutlery aside, he brought her to the living room and flipped on a documentary about seals. Either she’d fall asleep on the couch, and he could move her to the guest bedroom they used to share, or maybe he could get her talking.

  “Seals?” She sat on the far side of the couch, and he sat on the other end, giving her space.

  “If I watch shows about warm climates, I start wanting to travel.”

  “So? You’re rich. Why not go?”

  “Well, mostly because I’d have no one to go with. My family is busy with their own work, and so are the guys.” Maybe that had been too forward. He glanced at the television, watching the underwater ballet of the seals playing together.

  “You’re not seeing anyone?”

  He looked at her and shook his head. Although she seemed to be studying him, it didn’t look like his dating status mattered to her either way.

  “Are you seeing anyone?” Thank goodness she’d brought it up, because he had to know one way or the other. Asking would have made him sound like some sort of desperate stalker.

  Her expression was unreadable, but was there a hint of longing there? “No. I’ve been too messed up about you.”

  Ambrose moved closer to her, but stopped when her expression turned wary.

  “The very last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you.”

  Everly’s brows raised in disbelief.

  “It’s true. That’s one of the biggest reasons I had such a hard time coming clean about the money. Everything between us was so perfect that it made me more and more reluctant to fuck it up.” Ambrose swallowed, giving himself time to calm his voice. He was too stressed out to make sure all of his words came out right, but it might be the only chance she’d ever give him to say it.