His Indecent Proposal (5 page)

“I just love it.” I pushed the mop around, moving chairs on top of tables as I cleaned. “I’ve always loved drawing and want to find a way to make a living out of it. I’ve thought about being a teacher. I don’t know… I don’t want to return to school until I’m sure what I want to do. I thought I’d work for a few years until it becomes clear.”
 

“I’m working on an Accounting degree right now,” Jackson said, leaning a hip against the counter and watching me.
 

“Really? I didn’t peg you for the Accounting type.”
 

“Why? Because I’m
black
? Or
gay
?” Jackson pretended to be insulted.
 

I knew he was joking, but I reddened anyway, never comfortable with those types of jokes.
 

“No, because, um…your hair.” I glanced pointedly at his dreads.
 

“Just because my job’s boring as hell doesn’t mean I have to be.”
 

I laughed. “So why are you doing it?”
 

“I’m good at it, I guess. Also it will pay the bills. My plan is to work hard, play hard, and retire early.”
 

I sighed. “Maybe I should have done that.”
 

He shrugged. “It’s a shitty tradeoff. I dread going to class every day. Is that any way to live a life?”
 

“That’s a question I’m still asking.”
 

After Jackson locked up, we went our separate ways and I headed to Brooklyn. I met the landlord Bran at the bottom of the building and he showed me to the room. And that’s all it was: a room. A tiny studio that didn’t even have a kitchen, only a hot plate and a microwave. But it was clean. It was also entirely empty and available for me to move into immediately.
 

“I’ll take it,” I told him.
 

***
 

That night, I finished packing all my things into boxes and Sam and I celebrated our last night as roommates together. We shared a bottle of red wine, both of us teary and nostalgic. We’d been best friends since High School and had lived together all throughout University. It was going to be a big change for both of us.
 

I showed Sam a picture of my new apartment and she cried harder.
 

“You can’t live there! It’s a hole.”
 

I snatched my phone away. “It’s
my
hole. It’s my first apartment alone and I will decorate it to look nice,
thank-you-very-much!”
 

Sam’s face fell. “Oh Amy, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m just worried about you and I feel so bad. If I weren’t moving in with Luke, the rent my parents pay for me would go to supporting half of a nice two bedroom. You could afford that.”
 

I waved her away. “I’m not going to be anyone’s charity case, okay? I’m actually excited to have a place of my own. I’m going to decorate the walls with my artwork. That will make it a lot homier.”
 

“Are there a lot of locks? I mean, is it…safe?” Sam asked, wiping away her tears. “I’m just worried about you,” she added quickly.
 

“I know you are. And yes, it’s safe. You can even come see it on the weekend if you and Luke would help me move?”
 

“Of course! We’d love to help. And we can use Luke’s car.”
 

Luke showed up a bit later to start loading boxes. He was tall, broad and tanned with blonde hair and blue eyes. A line of freckles dotted his nose, making him look cute despite his size. We’d met him at a Students’ Union event our first year and he and Sam had been dating ever since.
 

“Hey Ames,” he said, putting an arm around me. “I heard you got a temporary job and a place. Congrats!”
 

“Thanks,” I said, squeezing him back. “I’m pretty excited to be doing my own thing, you know?”
 

“Totally,” Luke said before messing up my hair.
 

I helped them carry boxes down to his parents’ SUV. After the last box, Sam offered to come back up, but I told her not to worry about it.
 

“Enjoy the new place. I have to be at work early tomorrow anyway.”
 

Tears pricked her eyes and we hugged again.
 

“I’ll see you on Saturday for the move,” she said before climbing into the car.
 

Back in our student apartment, I felt alone for the first time. Even the loss of Sam’s boxes made me feel sad and sentimental. I closed the door to her room without looking inside, and then went to my own room to crash.
 

My room was also half-packed, but the bed was still together and I had sheets and clothes for the next few days. I leaned up against the headboard of my bed and scrolled through my
phone, checking my Facebook and email. I sat up bolt right when I saw I had a message from the numbered email. Dallon King.
 

Dear Miss Clair,

I want to apologize for how our meeting went down the other day. I understand your concerns and wish to assure you that I will not be selling the pictures. They are safe with me. You are very beautiful and I feel privileged to have been able to take your picture.

It was wonderful to have met you,

—D.

I stared at the email for a few moments. He was trying to be nice and reassure me, or else make me back down, but it wasn’t going to work. In fact, it just made me angrier. I quickly typed a response and sent it back.
 

Dear D, that does little to make me feel better at this point. What kind of a person keeps pictures of a sensitive nature against someone’s wishes? I will be reporting your ad so that other women can’t get tricked by you in the future.

I wish I had never met you,

—A.

I hit send and lay down on the bed, crossed my arms. There. I felt better. I wasn’t going to be able to sue his rich ass, but I didn’t have to put up with his fake pleasantries either.
 

I decided a bubble bath was in order to help me get my mind off things. My candles were still lining the tub, so I lit them while the bath filled and plugged my iPhone into the player. Soon classical music filled the bathroom and I settled into the warm water with my book.
 

An hour later, I wrapped a towel around myself and pulled my phone out of the player. As I walked to my room to change into pajamas, I noticed that King Douche had responded to my email. Considering his lack of response to my first email, I was surprised. Wasn’t my last one clear enough for him? I clicked on the email to open it.
 

Dear A, I have no desire to fill the position with anyone but you, so don’t worry about future women. Your position is safe with me.

I would be careful not to anger me, though. This is what might happen if you do.

I scrolled down and almost dropped my phone. At the bottom of the page was a picture, but not just any picture.
 

It was the picture he took right after he spanked me.
 

“That asshole!” I swore and threw my phone across the bed.

How
dare
he?

I sunk down on the bed, feeling like I was no longer stuck in a dream—I was stuck in a nightmare. A crazy man—a man I didn’t even know—had just sent me a photo of myself after he’d spanked me. And he still thought there was a chance I’d accept his freaky job proposal!

My hands were shaking with anger. I wanted to rip his throat out. I’d never considered myself to be an angry person before, but Mr. Fucking King was changing me. He was threatening to make me crazy too.

Tears burned my eyes and spilled forth onto my cheeks. I sat against the wall with my knees drawn up and stared at the phone like it was a bomb. When my breathing had slowed, I crawled across the bed and picked up the phone carefully, looked at the photo again and blanched. Luckily it was taken from an angle where you couldn’t see between my legs—thong or not—but the red mark from his hand was clearly visible. The plaid skirt was pushed up to my waist and my back was bare except for the line of my black bra. I was facing forward, so my face wasn’t visible, only blond hair falling over a white shoulder.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, and as much as it disgusted me to think it, I did look kind of hot in the photo. Slutty, but hot. I’d never seen myself from that angle before. I did have a pretty nice figure like past boyfriends had told me, and my butt looked really good, even with the hand mark. In a way it was kind of sexy…
 

Ugh! I quickly closed the email, feeling incredibly guilty and embarrassed. What was wrong with me?
 

I changed into my pajamas and turned off the lights, but I couldn’t sleep. Instead, I stared at the ceiling, thinking about the photo and Dallon King’s piercing grey eyes. Man, he was good looking. It was a shame he was such a nutty bastard. I mean, who did that kind of thing? Maybe an ex-boyfriend, but not a successful business man who didn’t know someone. Was he in the habit of doing this kind of thing?
 

To show him he hadn’t gotten to me, I decided to write him one last email.
 

D, leave me alone or I’ll sue you for harassment. Good lawyer or not, a court case like that could tarnish your reputation. Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve done as well as you have, being that you’re a complete lunatic.

Then I turned my phone off and fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of piercing blue eyes and camera shoots.
 

***

In the morning I poured myself into work, making drinks as fast as possible and keeping the café the tidiest it had ever been. Michelle was highly impressed, but I was still thinking about King Douche. I wondered how he’d reacted when he’d received my email, if it had scared him into leaving me alone or just given him a good laugh. Somehow, I kind of suspected the latter. He acted like a man who was used to getting what he wanted and wasn’t afraid of any repercussions for his actions.
 

The worst thing about it was that I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. He was the most frustrating, arrogant, messed up person I’d ever met, and for some reason, that fascinated me.
 

What did that say about me?
 

I checked my email a few times throughout the day, but there was no response. It seemed that he had taken my threat seriously. Good.
 

At the end of my shift, I called Jeremy and asked if he wanted to get together for drinks. I needed a distraction and pretending to have met with Jeremy made me realize that I actually missed him. He answered and said some of his co-workers from the firm he was working with over the summer had taken him to a bar, and gave me directions on how to get there. By the time I arrived, they were heading on to the next place, but Jeremy said his goodbyes and stayed with me.
 

“So how are things going?” I asked.
 

“I’m glad to have a break for the summer,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “The long hours haven’t started yet and I’m tired of reading textbooks and studying for exams, obviously. Glad this year will be my last. What about you? What are you up to?”
 

I hesitated before responding. “I’m okay. I’m a bit worried I won’t find a job in my field and that I have no real life direction other than drawing, but I’m working at a café for now. Moving into my own place on Saturday.”
 

Jeremy smiled reassuringly. “You’ll figure it out. There’s no rush to sort out everything now, right? Just take it easy.”
 

I smiled. It was nice to be able to tell someone my fears without worrying about burdening them. I loved Sam, but she could be like a worrying mom. Jeremy’s relaxed attitude was exactly what I needed right now.
 

I studied him for a moment, wondering if I could ever be attracted to him. He stood just under six feet tall with coppery brown hair that stuck up on different parts of his head, eyes the color of his pupils, and a kind face and lean body. His features were angular, making him look somewhat Peter Pan-ish, and he’d grown facial hair in an attempt to look older. I didn’t like facial hair. I also didn’t like Jeremy romantically, as much as I tried. He was a great friend and a lot of fun to hang out with, but the idea of kissing him made me queasy.
 

Thinking about kissing, my thoughts  instantly jumped to Dallon King and what kissing him would be like. Apparently I needed to check myself into a mental hospital.
 

“What?” Jeremy asked, giving me a friendly nudge. “You zoned out there. What’s on your mind?”
 

I fidgeted under the table. I’d never been sure if Jeremy had feelings for me or not or if he just saw us as friends, but it seemed like a good time to let him know how I felt.
 

“I don’t know. There’s this guy that’s kind of getting under my skin. He’s this arrogant, successful securities guy and pretty good looking, and he’s been sending me emails.”
 

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Sounds like you two have something going on.”
 

I sighed. “See, that’s the thing. I’m really angry at him for reasons I can’t really divulge, but at the same time, I can’t stop thinking about him.”
 

Jeremy laughed. “Passionate young love! Though, you said he’s successful in securities. How old is this ‘guy’?”
 

“Um, I’d estimate early to mid-thirties.”
 

“Sounds like a cradle robber,” he joked.
 

I laughed. “I don’t exactly trust him, anyway. But he’s being very…forward.”
 

Jeremy frowned. “What’s his name?”
 

“Dallon King. He works at—”
 

“Yeah, I know who Dallon King is,” Jeremy cut me off. “President of Walters King. We—the firm—have worked on some deals with them. I met Dallon once when our firm took him to dinner.” Jeremy sat back and studied me, looking impressed, if not a little confused. “But I wouldn’t say he’s arrogant. If anything, he seems very down-to-earth and…cool.”