Page 16 of Consumed By You

“What about your family? I met your brother earlier today.”

His eyes flash to mine, strangely alert. “Alexander?”

“Yes, he came by to see you, but you were at lunch. He seems nice.”

“I would stay away from him if I were you, Darcy.” His hand is a clenched fist on the linen tablecloth.

What?

“Why?”

“Because my brother doesn’t care about women.”

“And you do?”

He glares at me over the rim of his glass and I look down, horrified that I let that escape, even if I did say it jokingly. When he doesn’t say anything right away, I begin to fidget restlessly, clasping the napkin on my lap.

“I enjoy women’s company, Darcy. A lot of women. I treat each and every single one with respect. I take them to good meals,” he gestures around, “I take them to the theater. I pamper them. I’m not some horrible monster just because I sleep around. They want something and I want something. It’s an equal arrangement.”

I wasn’t expecting that. Not at all. An equal arrangement? Good meals?

I sit back in my chair, absorbing all he’s just said, and the irony of my current situation dawns on me. I don’t even know what I was thinking. This guy isn’t looking to get to know me. He’s probably counting the seconds until I spread my easy legs for him.

“I see.”

He waits for me to say more and when I don’t, he leans back with his drink. “Are you disgusted with me?”

“No.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not looking at you like anything, Benjamin.”

“I admire your honesty, Darcy. Please don’t stop that now,” he says, and I bravely search his infuriated expression.

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth.”

I fiddle with my silverware uncomfortably. “Maybe I’m a prude. Maybe I’m completely inexperienced in the aspects of casual sex, but I don’t believe it’s right to accept things for your body.”

He looks down at his glass and I wonder if these are my last moments as his employee.

“It’s really not that bad, Darcy.”

I shake my head, unsure of how to answer him without further offending him.

“What?” he blurts out, clearly forced off-center by my silence. A few people seated around our table turn to assess us, probably thinking we’re some couple quarrelling.

My brows are high on my face, watching him truly lose his composure for the first time since I’ve met him. He knew what he was doing at the office. He knew how to find the higher ground there, but here, in this private setting and without even knowing it, I’ve laid him bare. When his eyes dart back to mine, I quickly avert my gaze.

“I’m sorry. I’m your employee. I should not be speaking to you like this.”

“Yes, maybe you shouldn’t,” he mutters, downing the rest of the wine in his glass.

Fuck.

I glower at my plate silently until the waitress stops by.