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I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I can barely sit next to him as it is. My skin is on fire. And the most bizarre thing is that…I feel like I’ve somehow betrayed that asshole from the club who put the cage on me by showing it to Rory. I swear, for once in my life, I think I’m honestly considering the idea of getting a boyfriend, just as Rory suggested. I doubt, however, a boyfriend could supply that level of desire a cage is supposed to represent, the way Rory described in his cabin earlier today.

Listen to me. Thinking of getting a boyfriend. I’m just sick of being in hell and sick of the wrong people knowing about it.

When the steward starts clearing the table for dessert, I have every intention of hopping up out of my seat to excuse myself. Gerald, the salesman seated across from me, however, says the most idiotic thing I’ve heard.

“Divine has nothing on Amor. Our sales beat theirs five to one,” he boasts in response to Rory’s mention of one of the top chocolate competitors.

“Actually, they outsell us three to one,” I correct, unable to help myself. When it comes to statistics, I can’t keep silent.

Scoffing, Gerald’s cheeks go pink as he glances from Rory to me. “Um, no,actually. Hardly any of my suppliers carry them in my region.”

“You’re what—in the north? Most of your suppliers deliver from Canada, right?”

At that, he nods suspiciously. I can feel Rory’s eyes on me, but I ignore the weight of how his gaze makes me feel. I still have a job at the moment. I might as well pretend like I do, even if it’s just for one more evening.

“Divine is a European-based company. You’re getting their duties from Canada on your shipments, which your suppliers might not want to pay. And I meant they outsell us three to one across the board, not just in your region. You have to look at our competitors’ sales as a whole, not just from the territory you work in.” While I’m aware how flawless my argument was, it looks like I’m trying too hard to dig my way out of cock-cage hell, so I sit back and shrug like it’s not that important of a topic, finishing with, “So theydo… have something on us.”

Snickering an ugly noise, Gerald tries to sound like he’s making a joke. “Jeez, who do you work for? Them or us?”

I refuse to be baited into a squabble in front of the man who massaged my cage cable with lube mere hours ago. Those chestnut eyes of his flick to mine and hold my gaze with something that almost looks like appreciation.

Was it all a game to him, I wonder? Did he know he wouldn’t be able to get the cage off me? Did he know I had no clue who he was? Does he seriously not care and still want the best man for the job?

A plate is thrust between us. There’s a delectable-looking little mound of chocolate cake on it with some type of fancy, hardened chocolate web covering it. Even the plate circumference is adorned with a swirled design of chocolate syrup, more fitting nods to our company’s products.

“What is that?” Gerald asks.

“Hazelnut caged mud pie,” the steward informs him regally.

My gaze flits to Rory’s over the sinful dessert because of-fucking-course it does.Caged?Did he just say ‘caged?’ I’m met with Riordan McDonnell’s poker face, which sears me to the depths of my flesh.

Smiling at the steward, he reaches for the plate. “That sounds absolutely delicious, Ben. I’ll take that.”

“And you, sir?”

I hop up faster than I intend to, bashing my knee against the table as I do. “Um…no. No, thank you. I’m good.”

There is no way I’m sitting here watching Rory break through a chocolate cage with his fork and then shove it in his mouth. I don’t know if I expect something, some type of explanation, but when I get back to my cabin, I sit there for what feels like hours, waiting. After a cold shower and the television on low, I lie awake in bed, listening to the sounds of the ship. Finally, I hear footsteps by the door to my cabin. They slow. I think they may even stop outside because my pulse quickens, but then they move on.

It’s better this way, I tell myself in the silence that follows. I don’t need some awkward apology over my embarrassment from earlier. Clearly, Rory McDonnell is a man of the world, and I am not. Some people know the ins and outs of sex clubs and cock cages and some don’t. Some people don’t bat an eye at them, while others do. No matter what happened, he can’t say it’s had any effect on my work performance. What I do in my personal life should be no concern of his. He gave me that fucking card, after all. Part of me, however, still wants this freaking promotion. I know this company and don’t want to start over somewhere else. I also don’t want to stay and keep running the same sales routes over and over for the next ten years. If Rory can stand to work directly over a guy with a kink, then why shouldn’t I be able to stand working directly under a guy who’s…who’s eccentric in his own right? It’s not like I’d even have to see him much.

Sighing, I click the TV off and roll onto my side, closing my eyes. Tomorrow is a new day. I’ll just lie low for the day trip they have planned to the island and keep to myself. If he wants to meet with me, I’ll keep it all business this time. Now that I know who he is, I won’t be shooting the shit and divulging my soul to him again.

CHAPTER 9

Missing the continental breakfast for sleeping in was well worth it. I was able to score a cup of coffee and not have to see a single soul other than the yacht staff. I even took my time exploring the ship after I was assured that ‘Mr. McDonnell went ashore with the rest of his guests after breakfast.’

Being that I’ve never been to Hawaii before, though, I head off the ship and onto the boardwalk, where I hail a cab. The colorful takes me around the island, giving me a pocket tour which I enjoy as much as one who’s hard up in a cock cage can. With the windows down and the island air flowing in, though, I have to say it does something to appease my soul. I can kind of see how people like Rory might think throwing money at a yacht is a worthy expense.

Ha! People like Rory. As if there are others.

What am I saying? There’s a whole club back home full of people like Rory. Am I…one of them? I went there too. More than once.Greedy, he called me. Was I greedy?

Maybe I was. Look where it got me.

“We can head back now,” I inform the driver, a sudden sadness making my chest tighten.

I just…wanted to feel good. I wanted to feel good the only way I knew how. Was that so much to ask? That guy didn’t have to leave me high and dry.