Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
If he hadn’t gone and fallen for the illusion that Vic’s submission could ever belong to him and him alone.
“That’s fine,” he said tightly. “You don’t have to pay. I’ll go home.”
“You’re already there?”
“Yeah, I…” No, fuck, this wasn’t right, Vic’s voice was all wrong— “Vic…? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. Something just came up.”
Just that. Nothing else, and Amani wasn’t entitled to anything else and that harsh reminder was enough of a slap in the face to clear his head. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“We have a business arrangement, Vic. That’s all our relationship is, isn’t it?”
Long moments ticked past, and then, carefully, “I don’t know. Is it?”
“Our business is our business.” Amani’s lips trembled, and he pressed them together tight tight tight until all he could feel was frustration and anger, like he was compressing his hurt down between his lips until it was crushed and flattened small enough to swallow it. “Your business is your business. If you’d still like to meet for the Friday session, let me know.”
“I will,” Vic said tonelessly. “I guess…bye.”
“Goodnight, Victor,” Amani said, then ended the call.
Then threw his phone down with a thick, aching snarl, as the PayPal notification chimed and that number outlining his value flashed across the screen, counting out the cost of a human heart.
l
HE DIDN’T WANT TO GO back.
Vic didn’t call, didn’t text—nothing. And Amani wasn’t taking that step; he’d rather just walk away. They’d never put an end date on the contract, but he’d made sure that either of them could nullify it at any time without requiring the other’s consent, and he was damned well ready to nullify when no amount of financial stability in the world was worth someone making him feel like an object to be tossed aside.
But when Friday evening came, he was just stepping out of class when his phone dinged at him again—and the notification flashed with another ten thousand, like clockwork. The stab through his chest left him motionless, clutching his fingers against the strap of his bag.
Fine. He’d been bought and paid for.
He’d go. He’d go, and he’d tell Victor it was over, and then he’d send back the twenty thousand he hadn’t earned because the last thing he wanted from Victor was charity.
What he wanted from Victor…
He didn’t think that was possible.
He spent a miserable train ride glaring out the window, working up what he would say. Thank you for your compensation, but I’ve decided to terminate our agreement. I’ll refund costs for services not rendered. This should free us both from the contract terms, but of course I’ll abide by non-disclosure. The cold words felt safer, easier to hold on to, giving him something to steady himself as he stepped off the train at Spring Street and made his way down to Vic’s building.
But every carefully prepared word flew out of his head as he rounded the corner, and Vic stepped out of the glass front doors of his building with a little girl on his hip, a red-haired woman on his arm.
The girl and the woman from the photos.
The girl with Vic’s winter-blue eyes, who threw her arms around his neck and smacked her lips against his cheek and chirped, “Bye-bye, Daddy” with her high sweet voice carrying over the street, while Vic laughed and swung her around before setting her down with a kiss to the top of her head. Another kiss to the woman’s cheek, and then the two pulled away, mother and daughter hand in hand and walking down the street. While Amani watched, frozen and numb, Vic stood gazing after them fondly, his hands in his pockets and a smile on his lips.
A smile that faded into a look of sheer, raw dismay as he turned, and locked eye to eye with Amani.
“…ah, fuck.”
“Virgin, huh?” Amani lifted his chin, glaring. He didn’t fucking care who Vic had or hadn’t slept with, but if he’d lied about that, what else had he lied about? “Anything else I should know, Vic? Or did you forget to tell me roleplay was part of our contract, too?”
“Amani—Amani, stop.” Victor pressed his fingers to his temples, sighing, speaking slowly. “Siorse’s not my daughter. Not in the biological sense. I just…” He swore, almost violently dragging his fingers through his hair. “Can we talk about this upstairs? Please.”
No, Amani wanted to snarl. I’m not going anywhere with you.
But Vic was watching him almost desperately, and no matter how Amani tried to steel himself he was still weak for that pleading gaze, still worried that Vic’s color wasn’t quite right, that he was too pale. He folded his arms over his chest, hugging them to himself, and looked away, compressing his lips.
“Ten minutes,” he said. “That’s all you get.”
“I don’t even know if that’s long enough to explain,” Vic said, catching the door handle and stepping back to hold it open, “but I’ll try.”