He probably wants to screw me just as bad as I want freedom.

Only one of us will win.

“This is my way of protecting your virtue, Bellamy.”

“What are you talking about?”

The door jingles and we both crank our necks to see my father walk in and head up to the counter. Mom is still out in the car. This whole thing is bizarre. He doesn’t make eye contact with us, which I’m sure is his warped way of doing us a favor by pretending we’re strangers.

He’s here, but he’s not.

We wait for my father to walk out with two banana splits before another word is spoken.

“What were you saying a minute ago?” I refuse to drop it. I want to know how the hell he thinks he’s protecting my virtue.

“Because you’re damaged goods.” He says it like he’s stating a scientific fact.

I shove my spoon in the center of the melting mound of ice cream in front of me and shove the cup away. “Excuse me?”

“Come on, Bellamy.” He cocks his head, flashing a perfect smile. “You know what I mean. You’ve…you’ve been touched. You’ve done stuff.”

“Yeah. With you.”

“Yeah, but if another guy knew? I don’t think he’d be cool with it. A guy might get the impression that you’re a loose girl.”

What is this, the 1950s?!

“What about you?” I cross my arms over my chest. “What does that make you?”

His lips pucker as he stifles a laugh. “It’s different for guys. You know that.”

I rise, unwilling to tolerate another minute across from that imbecile.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks.

“Throwing this away.” I grab the melting cup of chocolate grossness and trudge to the nearest trash receptacle, chucking it just hard enough not to cause a scene.

Cortland stands up and walks over to me placing his hands on my shoulders and turning us so our faces are away from the watchful eyes of my parents. “Keep sweet, Bellamy. Don’t make a scene. Remember, they’re watching us.”

He turns behind us before glancing around the small ice cream shop.

“Follow me.”

“Where are you going?” I ask.

He says nothing, but I follow him to a small alcove behind the front of the shop because what other choice do I have?

“I’ve been dying to get you alone for weeks,” he says, the second we’re hidden from view. His lips press into the flesh below my jaws, and his greedy hands slip over my breasts taking squeezing handfuls.

“What are you doing?” I push him off me with what little resistance I have against his sturdy build.

He pushes his whole body into me again, ignoring my obvious discontentment with his behavior.  “Don’t you miss this, Bellamy? You, me, backseat of my car. I miss your taste, your scent, those lips wrapped around the best part of me.”

Cortland’s hips jut into mine, and I feel his hardness through the fabric that separates us.

“You’re so addictive,” he moans.

I inhale a mixture of frigid air, dairy smells, and Cortland’s cheap aftershave, but right now I’d give anything for a whiff of Dane’s cologne. He smells like fine soap and expensive leather and top shelf whiskey and the kinds of things I’d never dreamed about until I met him.

“Soon,” he breathes into my ear. “Soon, we’ll be married, and I can have all of you, all the time.”

That’s what you think.

“We’ve only been courting for seven weeks officially,” I say. “I’m not on some fast track to getting married. I still need to decide if you’re right for me.”

“The decision’s been made, sweetheart.” His hand runs from my right breast down the s-curve of my hip before settling on my backside where he gives it a commanding squeeze.

I fight the wave of tears that threaten to consume me. Powerlessness has never been a good look for me.

“We should get going. My dad’s going to wonder where we went.”

Cortland nods toward a drinking fountain. “Just tell him we went to get some water, and you had to use the restroom and I waited for you out here like a gentleman would do.”

“You’ve got an answer for everything.”

He thinks I’m teasing, and he smiles like he considers himself some brilliant bastard.

***

“Goodnight, Bellamy.” Cortland stands a careful distance from me in the driveway of the main house. “I’ll be over again tomorrow.” He glances at my parents. “Of course, if that’s okay with Mr. and Mrs. Miller.”

Mom claps her hands against her heart, her face twisting into a ridiculously pleased expression.

“Absolutely, Cortland.” Dad stands with his hands on his hips, nonchalantly asserting his dominance over the entire situation the way he always does. “You know, it’s about time we meet your folks. Why don’t we plan a big dinner this Saturday afternoon? Weather should be good. We can grill out. Eat outside. Would be fun.”

“Oh, yes,” Mom agrees. “I’d love to meet your mothers.”

“Sure,” Cortland says. “My parents have met Bellamy at Bible study, but I know they’d love to be able to sit down with you all and forge a closer bond.”

He speaks my father’s language better than anyone else I know.

The three of them all turn to me, like they all share one brain.

“Yes,” I say, offering up a fake yawn. “That sounds wonderful. Well, I don’t know about you all, but I’m beat. Going to head up now. Goodnight, Cortland.”

I give a quick wave, since we’re not allowed to touch or kiss or hug, and head inside with a grateful heart: grateful that this night is finally over.

EIGHT

DANE

“How was your evening?” I bump into her, of all places, outside the elevator. She’s early today. Thirty minutes.

She grips the straps of her shoulder bag tight, and I motion for her to go on first. I am, all things considered, a gentleman.

“It was good.” Her words have no flavor to them at all. They’re blanched and bland. She stares straight ahead like she’s in a fog. “Yours?”

“My night was wonderful. Thank you.” I press the button to the fifteenth floor and lean against the railing. A faint perfume fills the small box we share, and I drag her scent into my lungs without her so much as noticing. Gardenia. That’s what it is. Only it’s not as heavy. It’s mixed with something else a bit lighter and complementary.

I love it. It’s subtle and elegant and doesn’t scream for attention like so many of the obnoxious fragrances women wear these days.

The doors ding and separate, and I motion for her to leave first. When she exits, she waits for me to walk next to her.

“I take it you did some thinking last night?” I state the obvious because obviously she wouldn’t be here today if she changed her mind. I slip my key into the double doors that lead into the reception area. It’s just us two for at least the next twenty minutes. I normally use this time to clear my head and prep for the day, but today I’ll make an exception.

Besides, she was extra early today.

For me.

To please me.

Her master.

“Absolutely,” she says. “I’m fired up now more than ever.”

I lick the curve of my lower lip as I try not to show the intense amount of pleasure I get from hearing her say such a thing.

“Excellent. I’ve got a conference call at eight-fifteen, but after that, I’ll make sure Marlene blocks out my schedule so we can continue your training.”

She slips into her office, and I head to mine and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

My fingers drum the wood top of my desk, reaching distance from my phone, and when it finally rings, I clear my throat, let it ring three more times and answer.

“Yes, Bellamy?”

“What is all of this?” She’s breathless, and my only regret is not being there in person to see her face.

The effect wouldn’t have been the same, though.

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that,” I tease.

“The boxes, Dane.” Her words are rushed, jumbling into one another. “These, these things. Are they all for me?”