Page 50 of Pretty Mess

You’re so funny. You should take it on the road.

I can almost feel his aggravation. His text comes, and I snort when I read it.

If I ask why you’re messaging me, will you leave me alone?

I make no promises.

What do you want?

I bite my lip.

Are you coming over later?

The pause is long, and I feel myself flush. My phone buzzes.

I make no promises.

My smile is wide now.You little tease.

I’m going into a meeting. For the love of god, please leave me alone.

I’ll be around tonight.

Not bothering to hold in my smile, I slide my phone into my pocket and look around at my surroundings. The smile fadesaway slowly, because why am I flirting with him? He’s not my boyfriend. The whole morning has gone according to what I am in his world—a possession like the car, fancy clothes, and even this building. Actually, I’m not even that. I chuckle, and it sounds a bit hollow. What I am is another member of his staff, just like Robert and Celia. One drives him somewhere; another manages his building. I’m the keeper of his cock, existing to service him and bring him pleasure and then disappear back into the cupboard until he needs me again.

I shake off the ridiculous mood. “Get over yourself,” I say out loud because if I’m at the stage of imagining myself and Mac skipping around the flat together, I need to get help. And I really need to remember Julian’s warnings. “I am a whore,” I whisper softly. It makes me wince, so I say it again and then a third time. “I am a whore, and I need to remember that.”

I wander back into the bedroom and dig through my case, withdrawing the picture of me with my mum and Tyler. I set the frame neatly on the bedside table. Then I look around the room uneasily. I’m not actually sure whether I should have the photo out by the bed. This is where Mac will fuck me and given that he pays for that privilege I’m not sure he’ll want to be looking at my family while he’s doing the deed. I take the frame, walk back into the lounge, and set it neatly on a side table next to a big table lamp.

My mum and brother smile serenely out at me, and I touch my mum’s face, feeling the coolness of the glass on my fingertip. “I wonder what you’d think of all this, Ma,” I whisper. I shake my head. I don’t think she’d understand any more than Tyler would, but I do know she’d have loved me regardless. There’s a lot to be said for that.

I step back, shaking off the introspective thoughts, and head into the bedroom to unpack.

The sound of the front door opening startles me. I turn from where I’ve been sitting on the sofa, misjudge the unfamiliar piece of furniture, and fall onto the floor.

“Ouf,” I say and peek around the corner of the sofa as Mac walks into the room.

He’s wearing a grey suit with a subtle blue check, a white shirt and blue tie, and a long black coat. The coat highlights his broad shoulders. I’d be prepared to bet it’s some expensive fabric and came from a shop where you’d need a second mortgage just to look at the clothes. He doesn’t seem to own a single piece of clothing that doesn’t cost a lot of money.

He’s looking around, his face inscrutable, and I struggle to my knees. “Hey,” I say, waving.

“Why are you kneeling on the floor?” he asks cautiously.

“All the better to blow you, my dear,” I say, waggling my eyebrows.

He shakes his head but can’t stop the twitch of his lips. He takes off his coat and throws it carelessly onto the sofa. I lean forward and grab it.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Examining the label. Yes, cashmere. Iknewit.”

“Is there a point today where you’ll make sense? I need to make a note in my diary.”

“You’re hilarious.” I spring to my feet. “I had a bet your coat was expensive and probably sewn during the new moon by a virgin and a unicorn who never got any tea breaks.” I grin at him. “Want to see my new gaff?”

He rolls his eyes. “I do believe I might have seen it before.”

I step closer and poke him in the ribs, enjoying his surprised huff. It’s good to surprise him. I’m guessing he’s so controlled that it rarely happens. “You own the whole building, eh, Mr Moneybags?”