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I liked her.
It was so different from the rest of my life.
People, relationships, were transactional. But feeling engaged with someone, in tune with someone…
Because she knows what you have over her head. Because she’s afraid of you, a quiet voice whispered in my head.
I couldn’t deny that was true.
I controlled the things—the people—that Kayla held dear. That had to influence her and her reactions to me.
That made sense, and was honestly easy, probably preferable.
But my instincts, which I had learned to never ignore, told me that wasn’t all of the story.
It was stupid to even consider it, but I couldn’t stop myself from thinking there might be something there.
Something real.
If I was man enough to take it.
I grabbed my phone and started to text Kayla.
Dinner. Tonight.
I hesitated, my thumb hovering above the screen before I went on.
Please.
I hit Send and tossed the phone on the couch, then proceeded to get dressed.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever said that word to Kayla.
Please.
I wondered how she would take it.
It wouldn’t get by her.
Not much did.
But would she just think this was a normal meeting, me telling her where to be, expecting no pushback?
It would be easy if I told myself that was what it was, but I knew that was a lie.
A simple word—please—but one that held so much meaning for me.
With that single word, I was asking her for more, telling her more.
Telling her that I wanted to give us a shot, whatever the fuck that meant.
And now I’d have to wait for her response.
I dressed deliberately, putting thoughts of Kayla aside, at least partially, for the moment.
Charcoal-gray suit.
Black shirt.
