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"Yes," I say simply, offering him no further explanation. I know anything I say will only fuel his rage, and there's no sense in denying that I'm with Micah. If he's already seen us together, he knows. I'm not going to lie about it.
His laughter bounces around us—dark and derisive. "What does he do to you? Tie you up? Let his buddies take turns? Beat you?" His crude words turn my stomach.
I force myself to hold his gaze. "It's not like that."
Stanley doesn't deserve an explanation, but there's something so satisfying about standing up to him after months of his condescension.
"It's about trust and respect," I add quietly.
"Respect?" He sneers, flicking ash onto the concrete floor. "Just wait until they find out about you and your little fetish…"
He has no right to judge me because I choose to embrace my sensuality and express it differently than he does.
"I'm not ashamed of who I am or who I love," I tell him, my voice trembling slightly. He looks taken aback by my sudden boldness, but he quickly recovers, his face hardening into a mask of bitterness.
"You should be," he spits. "You think I don't know that you call him daddy while he fucks you? I heard you the first day we were, Davina. I came back to see what you were doing and heard the two of you in his office." His gaze is cold and cutting as he sneers at me. "You let him treat you like a filthy little whore, and you loved it."
I don't know what comes over me, but I watch in horror as my hand shoots out, and I slap him across the face. The sharp sound echoes around us, the sting in my palm immediate.
He jerks backward, his expression contorting with rage as he grabs my wrist. "Oh, you little—"
"Stop it!" I cry, my heart jolting against my ribcage so hard it hurts. I yank my hand away from him, taking a quick step back before he can grab me again. "Just stop it! If you ever speak to me that way again, I swear to God, I'll tell Micah."
"Micah?" Stanley shakes his head, a twisted smile overtaking his face. "You think he can protect you? From me? From everything people are going to say when I tell them about your filthy little fetish?"
"You're not a threat to me," I whisper past the lump in my throat.
His laughter is short and hollow—a chilling sound that echoes eerily in the parking garage. "We'll see about that, Davina." He strides back to the elevator, glancing over his shoulder at me. "No need to come back up. In case it wasn't clear, you're fucking fired."
He strides back onto the elevator, leaving me alone in the silence of the parking garage. For several long moments, I just stand there, shaking in fury, shocked.
No one has ever spoken to me the way he just spoke to me. I knew he was vile, but I didn't know he was pure evil.
I wrap my arms around myself, whimpering.
Is he right? Will everyone treat me the same way when they know? Will they treat Micah that way? I hid my desire for so long because I was so afraid of what people would say. And then Corey forced me to confess and led me to Micah, who taught me that it was okay to feel the way I do and want the things I want.
But just because he accepts me doesn't mean the rest of the world will. It doesn't mean they'll accept him, either. He's older than I am—a forty-two-year-old billionaire. I'm a twenty-four-year-old paralegal. I know how it looks, what people will think. They'll say he preyed on me. They'll accuse him of vile things.
They'll turn what we have into something dark and ugly instead of the beautiful, loving thing it is. He'll be branded a pervert because I call him Daddy. Being with me will ruin his life, all because I'm his little girl.
I feel the sting of tears in my eyes as fear coils inside me. The thought of Micah being subjected to the cruel judgment of society because of me is unbearable. The thought of him suffering because he gave me the love and care I long for is a wound too deep to heal.
Suddenly, I can't breathe. The walls of the parking garage close in on me. Is it guilt that's choking me? Or shame? Or both?
I don't know what else to do, so I run.
I sprint past my car, past the rows of Mercedes and BMWs, trying to outpace the misery clawing at my insides. My heels click-clack on the concrete floor, echoing loudly around me. The sound bounces off the walls and comes back at me, sharp and intrusive.
I have no idea where I'm going, but anywhere is better than here, where I'm just going to destroy everything. I burst out of the garage and hurry down the street, tears blinding me.
An alleyway looms up on the left, and I dart toward it, desperate for an escape.
The buildings rise high above me on either side, pressing in close, but this time, I don't feel like they're closing in on me. Instead, they feel like a comforting embrace, shielding me from the harshness of reality.
At the far end of the alley, I stop for a moment to catch my breath, leaning my head against the side of the building as sobs wrack my body.
A low growl rumbles behind me. The menacing sound sends ice-cold shivers down my back.
