Page 17 of Santa's Baby
“Shopping,” I say, trying to mirror his nonchalance from last night.
“Shopping?” He looks around me. I’ve got nothing but my pissing clutch, I haven’t even bought a takeout coffee. At least he’d had a glass of wine in his hand.
The walls of Creamgirl rise up so quickly I don’t stand a chance of stopping them. Her personality takes over mine like a safety blanket.
“I was just browsing. Nothing I fancied. Thought I’d take a seat. Chill out a bit.”
“You don’t seem verychilled.”
Crap, I’m twisting the rings on my fingers, my knee bouncing at about 120 bpm. Still, I keep my expression intact.
“I doubt I seemed all that chilled when you heard me getting done between the dumpsters last night.”
He looks around us, and I curse myself. There are still customers everywhere.Hiscustomers.
I’ve pissed him off, I can see it in the turn of his stare, but I like that. I’m a moth to a flame.
“Cut the bravado, Cream,” he says. “Yes, I could hear you between the dumpsters, and I could also see through the grotto door every time it opened. You’ve been staring over for nearly an hour straight, so I’m asking you again, Tiffany. What are you doing here?”
I have to goldfish it, mute. I recognise his voice more than ever now from being hooded. Bound. At his mercy. His power is so strong, it doesn’t need to be overstated. It’s level calm.
“Call me curious, alright?” I say, my walls cracking. “I came here because I wanted to see you. But you already knew that, Reuben. You’re hardly a dumb fuck.”
He flinches at the sound of his name. I should have called him Santa.
“I could be anything for all you know. A man can have many faces, and many secrets.”
I’m on dangerous turf here. I see the dance of the devil behind his eyes, and it calls me.
“I’m just glad I’ve managed to see one of your faces for real.” I shrug. “Kinda addictive. Been a long time coming.”
He scouts around us, smiling at the nearby shoppers.
“Tell me to fuck off, if you want,” I say. “I shouldn’t be here. Breach of The Agency rules, I know. Give me a disciplinary, if you like.”
“We’re both guilty of breaking procedures.”
“Good job you’re the boss then, isn’t it?”
His eyes are so fierce.
“Don’t be naïve, Creamgirl. Even those at the top of a hierarchy have rules to follow. The top of our hierarchy isn’t a one-man podium.”
I get an electric shudder at his words. Flashes of all of the men in the sessions… the founders…
“Were you breaking the rules last night?” I ask him. “At Revelier?”
“Yes, and I’m breaking them now, by speaking with you.”
My eyes are consumed by his. The mall blurs away.
“Why don’t you tell me to fuck off and stay away, then?”
He holds out a hand. His fingers are long. I’ve had them inside me so many times I’ve lost count. It feels eerie when I take them and let him help me to my feet.
“Call me curious,” he says. “Now, let’s get the hell out of here. This isn’t a place for conversation.”
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