Page 11

Chapter Eleven

Mikah

I was supposed to be at Dominic’s house an hour ago to talk specifics on his video, but I haven’t gotten out of bed. He’s called many times. Texted. And he’s currently banging on my front door. But I can’t move.

I’m pissed at myself for the way I acted in the photoshoot and the video. Mostly pissed at how I acted in between, when I let him get me off for no fucking reason at all other than I wanted it. Why the hell did I want him to touch me? Why did I come so quickly? And why the fuck did I come on demand? That has never worked on me before, and honestly, I always thought it was bullshit. The first time, I figured it was just a coincidence. I was so close anyway. But the second time, in the video… It can’t be a coincidence twice in the same day.

All of this has been bugging me. Pissing me off. I’ve been in a bad mood since I left the studio two days ago, but what really has me mad today is the fact my bank got back to me and told me they don’t have enough proof to show that my transactions were fraudulent and they won’t be reimbursing my money. The thought has me sick to my fucking stomach.

It took me years to acquire all that money. And thank fuck, I was smart enough to make sure my big expenses were paid off. Yes, I’ll get more money, but I’m a mess without something to fall back on. And the ironic part is I’ll have that once I get this video done with Dominic, but I just can’t seem to pull my head from my ass, put my emotions aside, and get it done. I’m never this emotional. What the hell is wrong with me?

The banging stops, and I let out a sigh of relief as I roll over, hugging my pillow tighter. My eyes fall closed, and I wish I could fall back asleep. I’m just about there when I hear heavy footsteps on my stairs. I sit up just as Dominic storms into my room.

“How the fuck did you get in?” I bark.

“Climbed through your window. What the fuck is your problem?”

“You climbed through my window?” I grit out.

“That’s what I said. Now answer me. What is your problem? You were supposed to meet me over an hour ago. I did everything you wanted. We have a contract. You can’t blow me off.”

“I’m not blowing you off,” I growl.

“No? Looks like it.” He gestures around. “It’s not like an emergency came up. You’re just lying in bed.”

“An emergency did come up,” I say, dropping to the bed and covering my eyes with my arm.

“What is wrong with you? Did someone die? ”

It’s a good thing they didn’t, because he’s the last person I’d want to console me. He probably fucking sucks at it. He has a terrible bedside manner. I mean, who storms into someone’s bedroom and barks, what is your problem? at them when they look as depressed as I do?

“No one died,” I mutter.

“Then tell me what the fuck it is. Don’t think just because I’ve been nice that I’ll ignore the fact we have a contract. I will—”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. Fucking hell.” I sit up, throwing my legs over the side of the bed. “Do you have any sympathy at all? Christ.”

“Of course I do,” he says, sounding offended.

“I’d love to see it,” I mutter, more to myself than to him.

The bed dips, and I whip my head toward him. He’s sitting right beside me. So close our legs are almost touching.

“What’s going on?” he asks in a tone that has me almost believing he cares. All teasing is gone. There is no humor in his eyes. His face is serious, not showcasing that stupidly annoying but handsome smirk he pulls off too well.

“Are you kidding?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m not. You need sympathy? I’ll give it to you. You’re the one who said you didn’t want to involve personal things, and I figured the easiest way to do that was to keep being a dick. But now you want something different, so…” He shrugs.

“I’m not talking to you about my problems.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re… you ,” I say, getting to my feet. “I don’t like you.”

“I’m starting to think you don’t like anyone.”

I choke out a laugh. “I like plenty of people.”

“Yeah, like who?”

“The mail lady.”

He rolls his eyes.

“I have a best friend,” I add.

“Oh? Then why aren’t you talking to him about this problem so you can get your ass over to my house to discuss terms?”

I let out a heavy sigh, my shoulders sagging.

“Because he’s busy,” I say, knowing how pathetic that sounds.

Dominic seems to mull something over in his head, probably trying to decide how much of an asshole to be.

He gets to his feet and stands in front of me, his body stiff and tall. Somehow looking a hundred feet taller than me, even though he’s maybe got two inches on me.

“You’re having a rough day. That’s okay. But what’s not okay is breaking legal obligations. You’re going to march over to my house, eat dinner, and we’re going to discuss the terms of the video we have to make. And if at any time you decide you want to tell me what’s wrong, I’ll listen without judgment. I’ll even give you advice, because despite what you think, I’m not an asshole.”

I’m stunned into silence, not a single clue how to react to what he just said to me .

“Now, Mikah,” he says in a low tone.

My brow furrows and my feet start moving without me having to think about it, which I realize is annoying as hell once I’m out the front door.

How does he do that?

I’m so confused and lost in my head that I don’t realize where I am until I’m sitting at his dinner table with a plate of chicken broccoli Alfredo in front of me. There’s a basket of garlic breadsticks in the center, and a glass of white wine.

“Eat,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

So, I do.

Something about being here and being out of my house—that is a constant reminder that I have zero money—makes it easier to breathe. Maybe I should get out of the house more. It’s becoming stifling.

No, that usually requires money. Money I don’t have. When I get paid again this month, everything will have to go into savings so I can start building up something to fall back on. The only thing I can spend will be what I need for groceries and—

“Where are you from?”

I blink a few times, looking up.

“Uhm, Sacramento County. Why?”

“Just curious,” he says. “Why’d you move here?”

“Because I wanted to,” I snap.

Dominic smirks, that stupid smirk that annoys me to no end.

“What is so fucking funny?” I ask.

“You think being rude hurts my feelings?”

“I don’t think you have feelings.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Thank god for that.”

He purses his lips, looking like he’s about to say something, but then he shakes his head and digs into his food. I watch him for a long moment before deciding I don’t want to argue and I just want to eat, because as usual, this food is so goddamn good, and it’s a free meal. Plus, I’m here for business. We have things to discuss.

“Outside or in?” he asks after the plates are cleared from the table and in the dishwasher.

“Depends. Did you get a new couch?” I ask.

He smiles at me, straight up grins.

“You smile way too much,” I mutter.

“I’m a happy guy,” he answers.

“You know who smiles too much? Dumb people.”

He chuckles, taking a step closer to me. “You make me want to fuck the brat right out of you, you know that?”

I gasp, stepping away from him. Why am I so offended by that? It takes a moment, but I realize I’m not offended. I’m turned on. And that is just… not okay. Not in any sense.

Dominic steps up to me again, putting his hand on my cheek. “You’re so cute when you blush.”

I slap his hand away, taking another step back. “I’m not blushing.”

“You sure about that? ”

I grit my teeth and close my eyes to take a slow breath. I can’t run away. I can’t tell him to fuck off. I can’t—well, I can do all those things, but it would be useless. I signed a contract. We have things to discuss. The sooner we do it, the better.

“I’ll be outside.” I force the words out, shoving past him and going out the back door. I scoff at the chair he sat in while getting head from that random guy, and then scoff at the chair the other guy was sitting in. I take the chair facing his house, and when he meets me outside, he sits in the one he was in the other day.

“Reminiscing, are you?” I ask.

“Hm, you sound jealous.”

I bark out a laugh. “Jealous of what? Getting my dick sucked? You did that for me already. And I’ll tell you what. It wasn’t that great.”

Lie. That’s such a big fucking lie. And I feel a teeny tiny bit bad for saying it out loud, but guess what? All this asshole does is smile, and it makes me want to punch him.

“You’re not going to hurt my feelings, Mikah.”

“Because you don’t have any,” I add for him.

“Whatever you say.”

He pulls his phone out and does something on it.

“So, looking over your hard limits, you’re giving me plenty of creative freedom here.”

“Possibly,” I mutter, toeing a tall dandelion not far from the leg of the chair.

“Have you watched any of my videos?” he asks .

I want to tell him no. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I have watched them, but knowing him, he’ll pull some up right now and make me watch them if I tell him no. So I force a nod.

“Good. So you know what my fans expect. This video won’t be any different.”

“I am not sitting on that couch,” I grit out.

He blinks at me, holding his breath. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he says, “Fine. Upstairs then.”

“Where you’ve—”

“I’ve never fucked anyone on my bed,” he snaps, which is so unlike him.

It almost sounds like I hurt his feelings. So maybe that’s the way to do it. It’s not being mean, or being rude, it’s commenting on how he treats other people? How he chooses to treat them? Making comments that go after the deeper parts of him, perhaps? Attacking his integrity? Kinda low, but it’s food for thought.

His comment is strange, though. He hasn’t fucked anyone on his bed? Hard to believe. I guess maybe not, since I haven’t fucked anyone on my bed either… just myself.

“I’ll gladly give you access to all of my videos to check,” he adds.

“Not necessary.”

“Saves us a ton of time. I want to go with a Dom/Brat scenario.”

“Are you kidding?” I ask.

“Are you kidding?” he retorts.

“Why the hell would you have me as a brat, when nothing in any of my videos portrays me being that way? My fans won’t go for it.”

Not necessarily true. I’m sure they’ll eat up any video I put up with someone else. I get requests all the time. Just never been offered 100k before, which is why I’m so willing to do it this time. I’m only being difficult because he’s annoying and I want to annoy him back.

Dominic’s eyes are wide, and his lips parted. “Are you really that un-self-aware?”

“Un-self-aware isn’t a word.”

“It is now, so stop avoiding the question and answer it.”

I blow out a breath and lean back in my chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dominic.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and steepling his hands together.

“Mikah, I’m sorry to tell you this, but you have the biggest brat energy I’ve ever seen.”

I scoff, waiting for him to be like, joking or haha.

But he does neither of those things.

“I am not a brat. I’ve seen plenty of skits with brats, and I do not fit that—at all.”

“Because that’s all fake. Dramatized for the audience. You’re a real-world brat.” He leans back, holding his hands out. “Now I’m about to say some things that may offend you, but I promise I’m not doing it for that reason. It’s important that you understand yourself, despite what we’re doing. It’ll help you out in life. Maybe you’ll be a happier person at the end of this. You know, smile once in a while?”

This man makes me grit my teeth so much I’m going to need to go to the dentist. I should make him pay for dental insurance. It’ll save me money.

“Get on with it,” I growl.

“You grew up in a single-parent household. That parent didn’t give you quite enough attention. In fact, they barely gave you any, and you were forced to grow up way too soon. You learned how to do things well before you should have, because you had to survive. There were no routines, no stability. You never knew what would come next. You craved punishment but only got it at the wrong times. Am I close?”

My mouth has gone dry and all I can do is stare at him. I want to puke. I want to punch him. And if that stupid smile was on his face right now, I swear I would. I’d tackle him right to the ground and beat him until his face was pulpy.

“I’m going to say yes,” he adds when I don’t say anything. “I’m not trying to upset you; I just want you to understand yourself. I mean, I saw it a mile away. How don’t you know that your childhood is affecting you so much?”

I do know that. Have known that. It made me move here. It makes me crazy about money. It makes me not want to spend money on things unless it’s something I need. It makes me not want to get close to anyone because people treat me like shit. It’s why I’m crawling out of my skin knowing my bank account is negative and the one I’m using now is my best friend’s and it’s currently sitting at a zero balance. But I never thought…

“I, uh…” I clear my throat, shaking my head. “I’m not feeling well.” I get up, steadying myself because I’m dizzy.

“Don’t go. Please, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that.”

I shake my head again, holding out my arm when he walks toward me.

“I’ll be back later. I just need to take a nap or something.”

I make it back to my house like a zombie. My body is numb and I feel like I’m in the throes of a panic attack without the panic.

How did he know all of that about me? How did he get every single detail correct? I feel raw. Torn open. Vulnerable. My skin is crawling, and I feel like I need to get out of it, like I’m wearing a wool sweater. I strip my clothes and jump into the shower, scrubbing until my skin is red and burning. And even when I get out, I still feel it there. This niggling under my skin, in the back of my brain…

He knows, and he’s going to use it against me. He’s going to make fun of me and pick on me and—

My phone rings, pulling me from dark thoughts that haven’t haunted me in years. I pick it up and see it’s him. I put it down on the bathroom counter and back away from it, my eyes on the phone until his name disappears and the screen goes dark. Then I hurry into my room, jump into my bed, and cover my head with the blankets and force myself to fall asleep.