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“I didn’t say that.”
“So, it is about the money.”
The distaste in his voice immediately set me off. Defensive and more than a little hurt by his judgment, I glared at him. “You’re upset if I’m okay with being someone else’s good girl but also upset that I’m only doing it for the money. I can’t win with you, can I?”
He didn’t reply, and I said, “Since you’re so disgusted by me doing this for money, I assume you’ll be cancelling our Wednesday night again?”
“Will you be booking with someone else?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
Anger flickered across his face. “Aiden pays his staff good wages, but you drive a shit car and live in a terrible part of the city. If you've been responsible, you shouldn’t be struggling for money, so what are you spending your money on? Consumer debt at your age isn’t uncommon, but did your parents teach you nothing about money management?”
Ashamed and filled with unfamiliar anger, I jumped to my feet and gave him an icy glare. “How I spend my money is none of your business, Mr. Cross. You might be my boss, but that doesn’t give you the right to details about my personal life. Go ahead and cancel our Wednesday evening session. I can’t imagine you’re interested in playing with someone so weak-minded she can’t even properly manage her money.”
“I didn’t say you’re weak-minded,” he gritted out.
“You didn’t have to,” I snapped.
I started toward the door, and he said, “I’m not cancelling Wednesday night.”
I shrugged, giving him one final dismissive look over my shoulder. “Do whatever you want. We’ve already established it makes no difference to me if I’m your good girl or someone else’s.”
* * *
Deacon
“Hello, Charlotte.”
“Good evening, Mr. Cross.”
I scowled at her bowed head. “Mr. Steele. During play sessions, you’ll refer to me as Mr. Steele, and I will refer to you as Charlotte.”
She shrugged. “Whatever you want, Mr. Steele.”
The insolence in her tone set my teeth on edge. Charlotte was being a brat. She’d been a brat since yesterday at lunch when we’d had our… argument. I refused to call it a fight, just like I refused to admit how out of line I’d been for questioning her about money.
Oh yeah? So, you barely slept last night because you didn’t feel bad about what you said?
I ignored my inner voice as I stared at the top of Charlotte’s head. Maybe I’d gone too far, but instead of talking to me about it, she had resorted to the silent treatment, attitude, and a coolness toward me the last day and a half that made me itch to put her over my knee and spank her.
She’s not your good girl at the office. She doesn’t have to treat you with respect just because you say so. It’s not a damn play session. It’s her actual job.
Fair point. But tonight was a play session, and Charlotte would lose the attitude or suffer the consequences.
“Stand up, Charlotte.”
She rose gracefully to her feet. She wore the same clothing she’d worn to work today, and I made a mental note to speak with her after the session about changing her clothes. I needed to differentiate between Riley and Charlotte as much as possible. Walking around the office all day long with a fucking hard-on was not my idea of a good time.
Does it matter? You’re not doing anything sexual with her at these play sessions. Not anymore.
I took a deep breath. I had enough fake work to last the entire two hours. When the two hours were up, I’d send her home. I might not be able to cross that line with her any longer, but I sure as fuck wasn’t letting her be another man’s good girl, either.
Why is that, exactly?
I realized I’d been staring silently at Riley - fuck! Charlotte - for nearly a minute. She stared coolly back at me. The last thirty-six hours had been the first time I’d seen something from her other than sweetly subservient or anxious. Despite my dislike of brats, I was relieved to see her fire. I wanted a good girl, not a doormat.
She can’t be your good girl anymore.
