Daisy
It’s past two when I’m cut from the floor, and I nervously ascend the stairs toward room nineteen. “She has a private room like you?” I ask Ronan. His hand is delicately resting on the small of my back as we go.
“Yes,” he replies.
“You’re not mad she’s stealing me away?” I say, when we reach the hallway in between rooms nineteen and twenty-one. He pulls me in for a kiss.
“I did have plans for you, but they can wait.”
Just then the door opens, and Eden is standing there, staring at us with a lopsided smile. “Oh, what plans? Can I join?”
“Maybe next time,” he replies with a wink.
“You can stick around, you know,” she tells him.
He shakes his head, looking at me. “Nah. You probably want to talk about me anyway.”
“We do,” she says with a wicked smirk.
“Where will you be?” I ask.
“Just next door.” Then he fishes into his back pocket and pulls out a matte black card. “Come in when you’re done. No rush. Have fun.” Then he presses his lips to my cheek as if he’s dropping me off for a playdate.
As I’m shut in with Eden, I try to relax as much as possible. When I heard she had a private room, I was sort of expecting a literal sex dungeon, but this is cozy and feminine. The bed is a rich blue and gold piled with pillows and on the right side is a soft-looking sofa and a large lounge chair with a fuzzy white rug in front of it.
“This is not what I expected,” I mumble as I walk slowly into the room, looking around. She’s at the wet bar on the opposite side, uncorking a bottle of wine.
“Well, don’t poke around too much,” she replies with a laugh. “It’s just well-disguised.”
I chuckle to myself as I step closer to the bed, noticing the metal rings bolted to the headboard.
“Have a seat,” she says sweetly as she carries two glasses of wine to the couch. I can’t stop looking around, wondering what she must do in here. I’ve heard enough stories about Madame Kink to know it must be very…well, kinky.
“I hope you don’t mind me stealing you from Ronan tonight. I was just excited to get to know you, now that you’re dating.”
Something about that word dating makes my blood run cold. Not that I don’t want to be dating Ronan. Hell, at this point, he has my heart. There is no fear of commitment in this case. But that secret I’m harboring from him feels louder and more ominous every time I think about how good things are going with him. My happiness is salt in the wound.
“I don’t know if I’d really call it dating,” I say awkwardly, as I climb up onto the sofa and take the glass of wine she’s poured for me.
“Well, aside from the fact that you’re living with him and he just took you to Paris.” She laughs as she takes a sip and watches me over the rim of the glass.
“Okay, you’ve got a point,” I reply.
“He seems really happy, and he obviously cares about you a lot.” That statement feels like a punch to the gut. I swallow, my heart pounding in my chest.
“And you want to make sure I’m not just leading him on for his money?” I reply as a question.
“Bingo,” she replies, before taking another sip.
“I’m not,” I say, trying to sound convincing, which isn’t hard because it’s the truth. I’m not using Ronan for his money. I don’t even want it. I mean, if she knew the truth, she’d know that I already have more than a little bit in my name. But that’s not really something I want anyone to know at this point. “It was never about the money.”
She tilts her head to the side. “It’s hard to take a personal jet to Paris and claim the money doesn’t make a difference.”
When I start to defend myself, she holds up a hand. “Listen, this isn’t about you, I promise. I’m sure you really do care about him, but I’ve been friends with Ronan for seven years. He pulled me out of a really bad place and gave me a chance to start over, and it meant more than you could ever know. He never asked for a thing in return because everything he does is selfless. And for that reason, I’ve watched him get his heart broken again and again. He acts tough, but he’s—”
“I know,” I snap, interrupting her. Suddenly, I feel territorial, hearing her talk about him, as if I have no idea who Ronan is or what he’s like.
She looks affronted for a moment, her eyes widening, but then she relaxes her expression and gives me a nod. So, I continue.
“I know how selfless he is. I know what he’s capable of. We both tried to stay away from each other, and I really don’t give a shit about his money. Yes, we enjoy it because we can, but if Ronan woke up without a dime to his name tomorrow, I’d still love him.”
My eyes widen, and I stare at her with shock at the words that just came out of my mouth.
She’s wearing a shocked expression as well. “Does he know how you feel?”
I grab the glass of wine from the table and nearly gulp it down.
“No,” I say after the glass is empty.
I should be happy or excited about this revelation. I do love him, and it’s not really all that surprising. Ronan didn’t just capture my heart; he ruthlessly stole it right out of my chest. He didn’t even have to try. He did it by being genuine. By just being him.
He might be the best person I’ve ever met in my life.
No, he is. He definitely is.
So why am I filled with dread and anxiety?
Because I’m lying to him. Every single day I’m lying by omission because of this secret that I’ve held on to since the moment I started working at Salacious. It was fine then because there was no reason for me to come forward, but now…
Now I love him. And I’m going to lose him.
“Are you worried about what people will think? He’s a lot older than you,” Eden says, her scrutinizing gaze on my face.
“A little,” I reply, which is the truth. Ronan is older than my dad, a detail I’m sure my dad won’t love whenever I do introduce the two. But my mind won’t even let me get that far, because Ronan will never meet my dad. The minute Ronan finds out about my mom and the fact that I know they were together and have known this entire time, he’ll be done with me.
Just thinking about that makes it hard to breathe.
“Are you okay?” Eden asks, her eyes narrowing on my face.
I force myself to nod, shoving away the dark thoughts and pasting a fake smile on my face. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“So…” she says, refilling my glass. “You love him, huh?”
My fake smile slowly morphs into a real one. “Don’t tell him I said that,” I reply, chewing on my bottom lip.
“You got it.”
For a moment, we sit in comfortable silence, and I let my gaze scan the room, then her. Eden is not like anyone I’ve ever met, but in some strange way…she reminds me of my mother. My mom was headstrong like Eden, unafraid to take what she wanted and say what was on her mind. It makes me miss her, a lot.
So, for a moment, I imagine it’s my mom sitting across the couch, sharing a glass of wine with me, talking casually about the man I’m dating and seriously falling for. It feels so natural, putting her in this scenario.
“Have you ever been in love before?” I ask, making conversation.
Eden’s face takes on a surprised expression. “Yikes, no.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “No? Never?”
“Never. Love is a trap—no offense—and not one I ever plan to be caught in.”
My body sinks into the couch as I laugh again. Maybe it’s the wine or maybe it’s the ease of the conversation, but suddenly seeing Madame Kink as Eden, just a woman who faces the same fears and insecurities as the rest of us.
“You love Ronan, don’t you?” I ask.
She takes a sip and nods her head. “Yes, but that’s different. He’s my friend. It’s easy to love him.”
“It’s really no different. Loving a friend and being in love,” I reply. “Just add sex.”
This time, she laughs. “See, when I add sex, love is the last thing on my mind.”
I pull my legs under me and perch myself up higher. “Speaking of…” I say, feeling bold from the wine. “What on earth was that with Clay downstairs? Did you two…”
She waves a hand at me. “Oh, him? We shared a room a couple days ago.”
Then she gives a little shrug, and I know I probably won’t get any more information out of her than that. I doubt Madame Kink kisses and tells. But hearing him say yes, Madame downstairs was confirmation enough.
If that’s what he likes, he and I would have never worked out.
When I look down, I notice my wine glass is empty. So, I set it on the table and give her a smile.
“Thanks for the wine…and the conversation.”
“Thanks for joining me,” she replies. “I don’t get a lot of female friends around here anymore. So, I hope we can do it again.”
“I’d love that.”
As I stand up, ready to turn toward the door, I’m surprised to find Eden pulling me in for a hug. It’s sweet at first, but as she pulls away, her green eyes find mine. “Please don’t hurt my friend.”
Her tone is solemn and serious, and my heart plummets to the floor. I don’t want to hurt him. I hate the very thought of it. But I’m cruising down a hill without brakes, and I know there’s a crash waiting for us at the bottom.
“I won’t,” I mutter, and I hope she can sense just how desperately certain I am.
I’d rather die than hurt Ronan, but at this point, I don’t know if I can help it.
