Temptation - Leigh Lennon Page 0,33

need me. And do not leave the apartment.

CW

I never understood why he signs his initials and not Chadwick. It’s one of the many things about this man I’ll never understand.

The bathtub is bigger than most saunas or even swimming pools, for that matter. I lie back in the lounging chair submerged in the tub with bubbles covering me as if I were a four-year-old splashing around for fun. In my mind, I reflect to Chadwick and the way his body commands my body to respond to his own. Since the day I’ve taken the job or accepted the terms of his bet, his presence in my life has fucked with my own standards of morality.

My mind drifts to the note, and his demand to stay in the apartment makes me scoff. He’ll not command me. After the water turns to ice chilling cold, I pull my shriveled little self from the tub. It’s been three hours, and I still haven’t heard from Chadwick.

Perusing his kitchen, I see he has jack shit to eat. After searching my phone, there’s a small grocery store down the street. Concocting a plan and a grocery list, I walk downstairs, asking the doorman for directions. I don’t need to know the streets of Los Angeles well to understand this is a ritzy area. Enjoying my little walk, I grab chicken, noodles, sour cream, bacon, flour, wine, and green beans. Carrying my purchases, I make my way back to his penthouse, getting a nice dinner started for Chadwick and me.

Normally, the music of Norah Jones playing in the background would calm me. But I can’t turn off my growing feelings for Chadwick. The anger brewing inside me reaches a boiling point, like the water for the noodles I’ve started. I never wanted this. The bet had never been about falling in love with the jackass—like I’m doing minute by minute.

I attempt to divert my attention to the sauce as my playlist changes to Ed Sheeran. Why are all my songs such deep love ballads tonight? I wonder, stirring in the bacon as my mind continues to swirl of all things Chadwick.

Once the sauce is almost ready, I drop in the egg noodles and ladle the creaminess of our dinner on the heaping pasta.

I’m blowing Chadwick’s phone up. He’s not answering my calls or returning my texts. I know he told me he wasn’t sure when he’d be back. Though, I still want to do something nice for him. Chadwick is never far from his phone. And just as I’m having a hard time admitting I’m getting close to him, he’s in denial, too.

Looking around his kitchen, I’m shocked this is bigger than the little apartment I lived in when I first moved to Chicago. With two double ovens and three dishwashers and a fridge bigger than most walk-in closets, I’m flabbergasted. And through it all, my dinner for Chadwick, the one thing I can do for him, is getting cold.

My wine, something I bought with my own money, is nothing compared to what Chadwick can afford, but this is me repaying him in the only way I know how. I eat my chicken stroganoff in silence, moving my green beans around like they are boring me.

A little tear falls from my face. When you pour your heart into something, it hurts to have it ignored. And the fifty dollars I spent on this dinner is probably the equivalent of him spending a couple of thousand dollars.

And to think, I was attempting to see things with him. And now, with this blatant snub, I sit with my white wine, drinking my feelings away.

Chapter Sixteen

Chadwick

One of my favorite subs is at the club tonight. Normally, I’m with her, and only her, the second I get to Los Angeles. Sora is incredible, but just as I had Ariel in front of me a couple of weeks ago, I don’t have the stomach for her tonight.

And when I admit what the reason is, I begin to receive an onslaught of texts from her.

My Kitten: Hey, I’m working on dinner. You going to be back soon, Sir?

Shit, she’s making me dinner. What the hell? My life isn’t ordered like this. Women submit to me. I do whatever the fuck I care to do with them. This is my life, and not a woman who makes me dinner like we’re a happy fucking family.

My Kitten: Um, you’re never without your phone. What’s up? I mean, if you can’t make it, I will