I want her to be clear about my intentions. Because we will be sleeping together. And sooner rather than later. I’m the kind to take what I want. She needs to know that.
It won’t change anything. I know when a woman is already mine. And this one is.
Much to her detriment, probably. But again, that’s on her. She can’t say I didn’t warn her.
* * *
On our way out, Marissa does her best to stick to the wall and dodge virtually everyone in the room. Again, I think to myself that this isn’t easy for her, letting this life go, letting this person go. And this is just the first night. What does she think will happen after word gets out? Or when she goes back to work? When she’s shunned? I should probably warn her that she doesn’t have it in her, that she’s nowhere near strong enough. But then again, it’s not my place, so I’ll just keep my mouth shut.
An attractively curvaceous girl stops Marissa just as she’s trying to dart toward the exit, the home stretch. She has chin-length blond hair, a nice rack, and hips to hang on to. I’m sure most of Marissa’s friends call her fat, but I’m also sure most of Marissa’s friends are anorexic bitches, so . . .
“Marissa! Wait!”
There’s no polite way to pretend she didn’t hear, so Marissa turns toward the girl and smiles.
“Heather, how are you?” Marissa turns on her overly happy, public face.
“I heard you had to pull out early from your trip to the Caymans.”
Although I’m sure she doesn’t appreciate the reference to her cutting short the trip for personal reasons, Marissa’s smile is unwavering. She’s good under pressure. “And where did you hear that?”
“Tim mentioned something about it.”
“A gossipy man? That’s not very common.”
The girl, Heather, looks stung, but she recovers quickly. “I don’t think of it as gossip. It’s just that you’re so . . . dedicated, he thought something was wrong. I just wanted to catch you before you left tonight to make sure you’re okay.”
I feel a pang of sympathy for this girl. She seems like she’s genuinely concerned, like she’d like to be a friend to Marissa. Little does she know, she’s better off not.
If I had to guess, I’d say this girl, Heather, is a lot less jaded than most of the icy bitches in this room. And it’s probably because she’s a nice person that she never ranked very high on Marissa’s list of important people. She hardly rates a short conversation. That much is obvious.
I can see by Marissa’s expression that she’s relieved “Nash” wasn’t mentioned. “Well, I’m fine. And you can pass that along to Tim as well.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” she says pleasantly, but she doesn’t leave well enough alone. She’s obviously a glutton for punishment. “You know if you ever need to talk, you can always call me. I’m always home. All alone in that big ol’ house.” She laughs uncomfortably, like she divulged too much or she’s embarrassed not to have more on her social calendar. I imagine that’s something shameful in these circles.
Damn pit vipers!
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Marissa says politely before she starts to turn away. My guess is that she’s not used to such a genuine expression of kindness. But then, as if that very thing suddenly occurs to her, her expression softens and she reaches out and puts a hand on Heather’s arm. “And I appreciate the offer, Heather. Really. Thank you.”
I watch Heather’s eyes go round and sort of glaze over. If I blew in her face, she’d fall right over. She’s that shocked. I’m pretty surprised myself, and that’s not an easy thing to accomplish. But Marissa has done it. And she’s risen a notch in my opinion, too. Maybe I underestimated her character. Maybe, just maybe, there is something more than a snobby, calculated, privileged brat beneath that beautiful skin.
Obviously, she’s a little more complex than I’d originally thought. I can’t decide if her default mode is vicious bitch and she’s trying to fight it, or if the vicious bitch part is more like a hard candy shell, protecting the softer center. I guess only time will tell.
“Have a good night,” Heather says simply before she steps back, allowing Marissa to leave.
“You, too, Heather. Tell Tim . . . tell him hello for me, okay?”
The girl smiles broadly and nods. For a second I think she might get all giddy and start crying for Marissa’s autograph, but she pulls it together and walks back the way she came.
I wait until we’re out in the anteroom, away from the crowd, before I speak. “Bravo,” I say sarcastically. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
She whirls on me, her eyes flashing in a bit of temper I didn’t realize she had. “You’re just not going to cut me any slack, are you?” she snaps.
“People overlooking your flaws for your whole life is what got you in the position in the first place. What you need is someone who’s honest with you. And someone to spank that ass every now and then. Do you some good.”
“And you’re just the man for the job,” she says before turning to walk away.
“There’s only one need I’m interested in filling,” I admit, but I don’t think she hears me.
I follow her out. She stops at the curb and waits for the valet to scurry off after the car. When she responds, I know she actually did hear me. “I don’t need anything thing from you. Not one single thing.”
“Maybe not, but you want something from me. You can deny it all you like, but we both know it’s true.”
Her eyes dart over my face and she stammers like she’s flustered. “You’re . . . you’re just as delusional as you are twisted,” she replies. I’ve got her off balance. She’s not used to people treating her this way. Or being honest with her, I suspect.
“We’ll see.”
The valet pulls up in front of us with the car he parked only a short while ago. I tip him and open the door for the very stiff Marissa. I have the urge to laugh over her petulance. That’s another unusual occurrence tonight. Laughing isn’t something I do very often.
I climb behind the wheel and shut the door. Marissa must’ve been holding her rebuttal until we were in private.
“If you think I’m sleeping with you, you can think again. I’d rather be kidnapped again.”