to stop texting me, I meant watch the cursing, kitten.
Sir: Kitten?
Sir: If you don’t respond to me, I’m coming up there.
Sir: You won’t like it when I get there.
It should piss me off how tight a leash he has on me, but for some reason all I find myself doing is smiling down at the phone like a loon.
“Strange. When I get yelled at by Mr. Townsend, I don’t find myself smiling.”
I drop the smile from my face as fast as I can, biting the inside of my mouth. When I look at Cupid he’s rocking his own giant smile, which only makes me burst into giggles. Oh. My. God. I’m like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush on the boy who always picks on her at recess.
Me: Don’t you have meetings you should be at?
Sir: I’m in one right now.
Me: Well, shouldn't you be paying attention and not worrying about my every move?
Sir: I’ll always worry about your every move.
Wow. I wonder if he knows how long ‘always’ is. It’s endearing to think of someone always thinking about me, that I’m always at the forefront of his mind.
Me: Always is a long time, Mr. Townsend
Sir: That’s the plan, kitten. You have appointments. Relax and think of all the dirty things I’m going to do to you when I have you back in my hands.
I had no idea he could be this sweet; that underneath all that broodiness was a marshmallow. Okay, maybe a hard marshmallow, but at the center there’s goo. I wish I knew more about relationships. Women always say men will say anything to get into your pants, but I’m already bought and paid for. This shouldn't have to be some game to him.
“He’s so sweet.”
“Never heard someone call him that before,” Cupid says, making me realize I said that out loud.
I like the idea that only I see his sweet side. That with me he’s somebody else. That only I know that side of him.
I suddenly don’t have the urge to go to the spa anymore after him telling me about all the dirty things he’s going do to me while he kept me in his office. I want to be there now, keeping him entertained while he works. Why didn’t he take me? A surge of jealousy shoots through my body.
“Do I have an access key?”
Cupid reaches into his back pocket, pulling one out. He hands over the white sparkly card that has my name etched at the top. Under my name, it reads Mine in bold letters.
“What does it open?” I want to know my clearance level.
“Everything.”
I bite my lip to stop myself from smiling, but I know he’s not fooled. I want to go pop in on Charles, but I know Cupid would alert him, so I'm going to have to give him the slip. The best place to do that will be at the spa.
“So you having stuff done at the spa too?” I ask nonchalantly.
“I could use a few things.”
I’m guessing not his hair, but I keep that to myself.
“Then let’s do it. I’m excited to get a rub down.” This isn't a lie, but I don’t want to be rubbed down in the spa. I want to be rubbed by Charles in his office, in places the spa won’t touch.
I head to the door, pulling it opening and heading for the elevator. When it arrives, I get on and put my card in so it won’t make any stops on the way down. Funny how quickly things can change. It wasn't even twenty-four hours ago I tried to keep myself as far away from him as possible. Now I’m starting to think I was so angry with him and picked at him because I hated that I was so attracted to him.
Now I can’t bring myself to care. I’m going to have fun for my thirty days. I just have to make sure I keep my heart out of the game. Sex, Mandy. This is all about sex and great orgasms. I’m lying to myself and I know it.
When the elevator dings, I make my exit with Cupid hot on my heels. My shoes click on the marble floor of the casino, over the sounds of the slot machines.
I push my way through the glass double doors and into the spa, and see Kristen standing behind the counter.
“Miss Burch, we have you all set and ready to go,” she says in a too-chipper voice.