I bent down and he continued to watch me closely when I brushed my lips against his other cheek. The scent of him and his heavy eyes on me was a heady combination that left me a little unbalanced. As I began to pull away I felt his fingers suddenly at my face. My eyes widened and my heart thumped harder before I realized what he was doing. He tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear and then brought his hand down, still watching me.

I turned away quickly and rushed back into my chair. I kept my face turned away so that he couldn’t see how out of sorts I was.

“Is it just going to be you and your friend?” he asked curiously.

For some reason, I knew my answer would bother him.

“Emma?” he pressed.

“Um, no. It’ll be her and two others.”

I hoped he wouldn’t press even more –

“All women?”

I cleared my throat and fidgeted in my chair uncomfortably. “No. Two guys.”

Silence.

Had I crossed the line? We were in a weird situation. There was tension between us, but it was never expressed.

“Tell Graeme you want your names on the list,” he then said flatly. “Have as many people as you want.”

From my peripheral, I watched him turn back to his documents, a deep frown set on his face as though he was displeased by something – and I knew what that something was. I was just too in denial to acknowledge we’d developed an attachment to one another. His company was the norm for me. Seeing him every work day was a guarantee. He had become a vital part of my life whether I liked to admit it or not.

“Thanks,” I finally said weakly.

He didn’t reply and another minute passed by.

I cleared my throat. “So, uh, who’s Graeme?”

He exhaled slowly and shook his head in disbelief.

*

How was it my fault I didn’t know Moustache Man’s name was Graeme? It wasn’t like we were on first name basis. Our union wasn’t filled with him going, ‘Hey there, I follow you around because a crazy fucking lunatic pays me to. I have this really distinguishable moustache, don’t I? Oh, and call me Graeme!’

But I told Grae – no, I’m still calling him Moustache Man – the names after Blythe had texted me them.

“Blythe, me, Jake and Thomas.”

He wrote the names down and gave me a nod.

Once home I dolled myself up to the best of my abilities. Since I was making more at this job, I had room in my budget for clothes. I’d bought some office clothes in the beginning to appease Lord Borden, and then a dress here and there. The one I picked out was a sleeveless white mini-dress that showed a lot of leg but covered up the boobage just right. I paid sixty dollars for it. For a poor girl, sixty dollars for a mini-dress was equivalent to owning Queen Elizabeth’s tiara.

I had no intentions to drink or to chat this guy up that Blythe had gone on about. While it’d been over a year since I’d been laid – and I was at times scratching at the walls like a cat in heat – I had enough sense not to jump into bed with just anyone.

I left my hair down in loose curls and went light on the make-up. Only after did I realize I’d steered clear from red and I didn’t want to admit to myself it was because Borden didn’t like the colour on me. Who cares what Borden thinks? I can put on red if I want. Just…Just not tonight.

I couldn’t believe how content I was! Everything just felt different for me lately. The lack of stress over my financial concerns felt as though the shackles of poverty had been ripped from me. While I still had to budget for necessities and bills, I was nowhere near where I’d been prior to Borden’s forced recruitment of me.

Who knew that something bright would come of that dark time in my life?

I placed my apartment key around the chain on my neck; it was something I did out of habit that Granny had taught me once when I’d lost the house key coming home from school. A wallet you can drop, a purse can be snatched, but a simple necklace with a key around the neck often times went unnoticed.

After turning off the lights and putting on my white heels, I hurried out of the apartment, hoping that tonight would not end with a man choking in an alleyway.

Eighteen

Borden

VIP room? Really?

Emma didn’t strike him as a girl who partied it up. In fact, he’d known her to be a hermit in her little unit apartment where she sat on her only couch and watched stupid shows all night.

But no.

Not tonight.

Tonight, little Miss Emma Lynne Warne wanted to party in the VIP room with a guy who sat dangerously close to her and was watching her tits more than her face.

That’s what Emma Lynne Warne wanted to do tonight!

Borden clenched his teeth and sniffed. Whatever. If that’s what she wanted to do then that was her fucking choice.

Yep. Whatever.

The place was crowded. People were dancing around their tables and some men were fawning over the dancers on the stage. The lights flickered from colour to colour, the music thumped its party mix, and Borden just stood there in a sea of people, staring at the table where she sat with a guy who stared at her tits more than her face.

He was angry. Always that anger that he couldn’t cool. It’d been a while since he’d found a release for it. Nobody was stepping on Borden’s toes! And it was really starting to piss him off. What was wrong with this city? Was it so hard for someone to just stir the nest and break him out of this perpetual boredom?

Was boredom the reason he was standing here now?

He was looking for trouble. Yes, yes, that must be it. It wasn’t her. Fuck no. It wasn’t her brown eyes that screamed obscenities at him on a daily basis, or the way she licked those unbearably soft lips when she was nervous around him, or the way she moved so fluidly without realizing how fucking gorgeous she was.

No. No. No.

Borden was currently following Mr Titty-Eyes to the urinal because… because he was bored! That’s all.

Titty-Eyes was already standing in front of the urinal when Borden stepped in. He crossed his arms and leaned against the sink, watching Titty-Eyes do what was natural to him.

Men were already doing one-eighty’s when they stepped into the restroom and spotted him. It was good that way. The room was reserved just for Borden and Titty-Eyes.

“You liking that girl you’re sitting with?” Borden asked with a friendly smile on his face (there was no such thing as a friendly smile on Borden’s face, but Titty-Eyes didn’t need to know that).