Dirty Filthy Rich Men

by Laurelin Paige

  Whichever it was, I sensed it anguished him to have to deal with me now. We were done, and I should be gone. I already knew that about him, but after today’s message I understood even better how, for him, sex was not a way to connect with others. Sex was something separate. Connecting was something he didn’t do at all.

  So I practiced disconnecting too.

  I didn’t watch him while he cleaned me up, didn’t think too hard about its intimacy or its eroticism. I let it just be an act. Like sex was just an act. Without meaning, without attachment. Without emotional interpretation.

  When he’d finished, we silently wiped up the spilled sake and picked up the platter of tempura that had clattered to the floor. In a few minutes, the room looked fairly decent, considering.

  Donovan nodded for me to kneel in my spot, and once I had, he opened the shoji. “I’ll be right back,” he said, turning in the direction of the restrooms, presumably to dispose of the condom.

  While he was gone, the waitress came to leave the bill, which Donovan took care of right away on his return.

  “When the meal is over, you say gochiso sama deshita,” he said when she returned with his receipt. He said it slowly, and I listened carefully the first time, ensuring that my other arm wouldn’t soon be marked up.

  I turned to the waitress and put on a grin. “Gochiso sama deshita.” I brutalized the pronunciation. She nodded politely all the same.

  “Perfect,” Donovan said. He stood then gave me his hand to help me up.

  “What’s it mean, anyway?” I asked.

  “‘It was quite a feast.’”

  The waitress bowed to both of us as we stepped past her out into the hallway. Donovan led the way out, which was fine with me. Then I wouldn’t have to feel his distant stare at my back.

  But before we’d gotten too far, he stopped and peered over his shoulder. “Sabrina?” His small smile nearly reached his eyes. “Gochiso sama deshita.”

  Yes, it definitely had been quite a feast.

  As usual, Donovan didn’t ride home with me. He had his driver take me, and he took the car he’d driven himself. Never mind that he could have given his employee the night off and taken me instead. I understood. It didn’t mean anything. I’d given him what he’d come for. Just sex. Good sex, but just sex.

  I’d almost forgotten entirely about the marks he’d made on me until later in the shower. I spent most of the time trying to scrub at the ink on my arm, when suddenly I remembered to look at what he’d written lower. I hadn’t thought much about it, assuming he’d written something else that had to do with Japanese culture. Now when I examined the marks, I saw they were actually English and they formed two letters—D K.

  Donovan had written his initials on my flesh.

  He’d said, in every way possible, that I meant nothing to him beyond sex, and then he’d written his initials on the most private part of my body.

  It was another way to mess with me. It had to be. Like how he’d signed off on my grade back in college, the grade I shouldn’t have needed to “make up”. This time he’d signed off on my skin.

  It was infuriating and shitty and a turn-on and also…

  Also, it hurt.

  The problem was, for the first time since I’d known Donovan, his fucked-up games and how much I loved them weren’t the most dangerous parts of our association. The most dangerous part was how much I wished that his brand on my skin meant something different than what it surely did.

  The most dangerous part was how much I wished it meant he thought of me as his.

  Twenty-Five

  “But Thanksgiving is almost a month away,” my sister grumbled the next morning over the phone. “You’ve been on the East Coast six weeks, and we still haven’t seen each other.”

  I resisted the urge to apologize. To be fair, it wasn’t just my job that had been keeping us apart, but also her class load. Actually, if I spent the rest of the day knocking out some tasks, I could probably take the train up to see her later and come back the next day.

  “I wish I could,” she said when I offered. “But I have a group project that’s due Monday, and we’re working on it all day tomorrow.”

  “Oh. It was just a thought.” I hadn’t realized how much I’d wanted to see her until right then.

  Audrey seemed to pick up on my melancholy. “Are you okay? Is there something you need to talk about? Guy stuff?”

  Guy stuff. Yes, actually that’s exactly what it was.

  I was both confused and hungover from sex with Donovan the night before, and while I hadn’t particularly been looking to talk about it before, now that she was on the line, I yearned to have someone to sort through the strange non-relationship.

  But also I wasn’t ready to put my feelings about it into words.

  I shouldn’t even be having feelings about it in the first place. I was sure that was against the rules of his Just Sex policy.

  “Nope. I just miss you.” It was true too. I tried to think of an alternate way to get more sister time. “When you come for Thanksgiving, can you come earlier than Wednesday? I’ll have to work some of the time, but we could make up for lost time that way.”

  “I have the whole week off,” she said, sounding instantly on board. “I could come up Friday after class. And maybe we could see some shows! Will there be ice-skating at Rockefeller Center by then?”

  “Probably.” I didn’t honestly know, never mind that Audrey couldn’t ice-skate to save her life.

  “We definitely have to go ice-skating, Bri! And we can do the MOMA. And One World Trade Center…”

  She spent the next twenty minutes giving me a list of all the things we should do on her vacation to Manhattan, about a month’s worth of activities. There wasn’t any way we’d get through even a quarter of them, but it was good to talk to her.

  It was especially nice to have a few minutes when I wasn’t thinking about Donovan. Not that I spent all of my free time with him on my mind.

  When we hung up, he was there in my mind though, immediately. I pulled down my yoga pants and panties and stood in front of my bathroom mirror. His initials were faded with the scrubbing I’d given them the night before, but they were still clearly visible.

  Why did I like the look of them on my skin so much? It was erotic and it turned me on, yes. But there was more to it than that. It felt like he’d given me his letterman’s jacket. Or like he’d asked me to wear his class ring. It felt like he’d claimed me, and if that was his intention, then I really didn’t understand the terms of Just Sex.

  There were other terms I didn’t understand. What were the rules of this arrangement? Was there even an arrangement? Could I call him up for booty calls if I wanted to or was he the only one allowed to do that? Was there a length of time I was supposed to wait in between dates?

  Was he sleeping with other women right now too?

  My stomach suddenly dropped like a ball of lead at the thought of him in the arms of another woman.

  Because it was tacky and it made me feel slutty, of course. Because it created health risks. Not because I had an emotional attachment to him. Not because I was jealous.

  Point was, this no strings, private affair of ours needed to be further discussed.

  Taking my phone, I snapped a picture of his artwork on my pussy. Then I typed out a text message to him—Can we talk?

  Pretty sure that he wouldn’t respond unless I spoke his language, I attached the photo and pushed send.

  Donovan still hadn’t responded by Monday.

  I’d come to the conclusion that either I was not allowed to reach out to him, our arrangement was over, or he wanted to make me squirm—something I knew he enjoyed doing.

  Well, if that was the goal, it was working. Not only was I antsy waiting for his reply, but I was also missing him physically. I was desperate for the taste of his lips. I longed for the roughness of his grip. I yearned for the overwhelming way he rode my cunt.

  It made me desperate and distracted all throug
h my day. A few times I even tried walking by his office, but he was always in a meeting, and he was gone by the time I got done with my work.

  Lying in bed that night, I tried texting him. I’m thinking dirty thoughts of you.

  I attached a picture of the bottle he’d told me to use as a dildo sometime when he’d fucked me in my apartment.

  I brought myself to orgasm three times before I was finished.

  Donovan never replied.

  “Tom,” I said, stopping my employee from leaving the conference room after our Thursday morning team leader meeting. “I’m really impressed with the way you’ve handled all the details for SummiTech’s presentation at the Think Expo tomorrow night. It was thrown at you without much notice, and your team has taken it on without missing anything.”

  I hadn’t spoken to Tom Burns one-on-one since he’d walked in on Donovan almost kissing me weeks ago in the strategy room. Even after he’d spoken kindly about me to Weston, I hadn’t wanted things to be awkward. But he’d shown consistently good work on his team, and when SummiTech had asked Reach to put together an ad and materials to unveil their latest products, I knew Tom was the guy to head up the marketing side.

  “Thanks,” he said, seemingly surprised about the acknowledgement. “I appreciate the compliment.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll stop in tomorrow night, but I’m sure you won’t need me.”

  He gathered the items he’d brought for the meeting and started to leave but suddenly stopped and turned back to face me. “You know, Sabrina, I have a confession to make—I didn’t think I was going to like you.”

  “I’m listening.” I straightened, bracing myself for what he’d say next. The rest of the room had emptied, and it was just the two of us now. This could go anywhere, and this wasn’t starting out very promising.

  “Especially after I found Donovan Kincaid trying to get cozy with you that night we were working on the Phoenix campaign. I was sure that must have been why you were hired.”

  “What do you mean? Like you were sure I was sleeping with him?” I hadn’t been at the time. But hadn’t I gotten the job by sleeping with Weston?

  Guilt knotted in my stomach. I’d deny it. I was qualified to be here. I might have gotten his attention by taking my clothes off, but that didn’t mean I didn’t deserve my position.

  At least that’s what I told myself.

  “It’s shitty,” Tom said, regretfully. “I’m sure that sounds sexist, but it was how it looked. You know?”

  I nodded because I knew exactly how it looked, and yes, it was sexist. But the truth wasn’t much better, so I couldn’t say a lot to defend myself.

  Tom, however, could. “You’ve really proven yourself, though. You put a lot more time into the team than I expected you would. I know I’m not the only one who appreciates it.”

  “Thank you.” The knot loosened slightly in my belly. “I appreciate the compliment as well.”

  Again, he started to go, but with my anxiety a bit settled, I realized things didn’t quite add up. “Wait a minute, Tom. I’m confused. Didn’t you put in a good word to Weston about me back then?”

  He scratched at his neck, his eyes averted. “Yeah, but that was just because Kincaid threatened my job if I didn’t.”

  Um. “He did?”

  He looked up, studying my reaction, which was utter shock. “You didn’t know. I wasn’t sure.”

  No, I absolutely didn’t know that Donovan had talked to him about anything. “What did he say to you?”

  “He said that he was the one who had come on to you and that he had been out of place for doing so. Then he said you deserved to be respected for all your hard work, and he made it clear that spreading rumors about you would not be respectful. He suggested I get the rest of the team to support you if I wanted the department to continue running smoothly.”

  My heart was beating rapidly, my hands shaking. “And he said he’d fire you if you didn’t?”

  “Not in those exact words, but I knew what he meant.”

  My cheeks flushed. “Oh my god, I had no idea. I’m so sorry!” It was so unfair for him to threaten my employee. Tom was innocent. I was mortified.

  But at the same time…

  What did it mean?

  I ran my hand along my forehead, wiping the bead of sweat that had gathered along my brow. Why would Donovan have done that? Was he worried that Tom could make my job hard for me? Had he been concerned about my reputation?

  “You didn’t know,” Tom said consolingly. “Why are you apologizing? I should apologize. I assumed I understood the situation, and I never even asked to make sure you were okay.” He took a cautious step toward me and lowered his voice. “I don’t want to cross the line, but do you need any help with him?”

  “No,” I assured him. It was almost laughable, thinking I needed rescuing from Donovan. “No, I’m fine. We’re fine.” I shook my head, wishing I hadn’t said we.

  And because I had said it, I felt the need to say more. To explain the situation so that there was no doubt in Tom’s mind that there was absolutely nothing to be concerned about. “It was a strange night you walked in on. Donovan and I have known each other since college, and…”

  I trailed off. How the hell did I think I could explain any of this? It wasn’t something I even wanted to explain.

  Just then, I looked out through the glass walls of the room, and my eyes caught sight of someone familiar on the other side of the floor. Someone who, after this most recent information, I was desperate to speak with.

  “I’m sorry. Can you excuse me? I see someone I need to talk to.”

  I picked up my files and brushed past Tom, running out into the hall to catch Donovan. He’d disappeared around the corner, and when I followed after, I saw he’d gotten on the elevator. He looked up as the doors started to close.

  “Wait!” I called.

  His eyes met mine, but he didn’t hold the doors.

  I chewed my lip for several seconds, trying not to jump to conclusions. Donovan was not transparent, and there were so many possibilities of what was going through his mind. But I had to get this sorted out. I wanted to talk to him about Tom Burns, and I wanted to know for sure if he was evading me.

  I caught the next elevator and went to my office and called Donovan’s secretary on the company line.

  “Who may I ask is calling?” Simone asked after I requested to speak to him.

  “Sabrina Lind in Marketing.”

  “And what is it regarding?”

  “An employee in my department who I’d like to speak with him about.” He was in charge of Operations. If he wouldn’t talk to me about our non-relationship, he should at least talk to me about work.

  “Hold just a moment, please.”

  I waited for several long seconds, tapping my foot nervously to the company’s nineties-era hold music.

  Eventually, Simone returned. “Mr. Kincaid asked if you’ve spoken to HR about the matter.”

  “No, I haven’t spoken to HR,” I snapped. “It’s not an HR matter. It’s a Mr. Kincaid matter, I assure you.” I knew Simone was just doing her job, but I was getting angry, and she was the one keeping me from talking to the person I was angry with.

  “Of course, Ms. Lind. Just a moment, please.” The hold was shorter this time. “I can schedule an appointment for you to see him if you’d like.”

  “Yes, please.” Finally!

  “His first opening is next Thursday at two.”

  My chest felt tight. “He doesn’t have anything sooner? All I need is a phone call. Can you tell him directly that I just need a few minutes with him?”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Lind. I already did. He said to give you his first available.”

  “Never mind.” I hung up before she had a chance to respond.

  Well. There was my answer. Donovan was definitely avoiding me. I’d known he was an asshole, but this had gone too far.

  I sat back in my chair and pinched the inside corners of my eyes, refusin
g to cry at work. I could understand why he’d want to treat me like any other employee, making me wait until he had an opening in his schedule so that it didn’t look like I had preferential treatment. But it sure hadn’t seemed to be a concern of his the day I’d walked in and let him shove his cock down my throat. Why was it protocol he was all of a sudden interested in following now?

  Playing with my emotions in the bedroom was one thing. At the office was a totally different story. Especially when I had so much more to lose than he did.

  In fact, he didn’t have anything to lose at all.

  Was that why it was so easy for him to blow me off?

  Whatever the reason—whether it was because he wanted to play a game or teach me a lesson or because he was over our tryst—it didn’t matter.

  I was done with him.

  Twenty-Six

  The next evening, I rushed home after work to change into something appropriate for the Think Expo. Tom and his team didn’t need me, but I wanted to show my support and make sure that everything ran as planned. I chose a simple black ruched body-con dress and some strappy heels and headed to the Financial District.

  I took a cab to the hotel and followed signage to the Expo, which was conveniently being held in the ballrooms on the first floor. All day, innovators had presented new ideas in the world of technology to investors and tech enthusiasts. A cocktail party in the ballroom topped off the evening. The hallway leading to the event was set up with major exhibiters displaying their products. Large screen TVs battled for the attention of guests dressed in tuxedos and fancy dresses as they made their way to the party. Our client was among these competitors.

  I found SummiTech’s exhibit quite easily, the bold media production easily drawing my attention to their display. Employees for the company handed out brochures and spoke to guests as they passed by. I spotted a couple of my team members hanging back to monitor the situation and checked in with them to make sure they’d brought enough marketing materials and to gather some initial feedback on the items Reach had put together.