Beauty from Pain(14)

I can’t wait to see his reaction to the back of this dress.


He stands and walks around to slide my chair out for me, just as he did the prior evening. “I didn’t know if you’d …” He trails off and I know he’s giving his full attention to the back—or lack thereof—of my dress. He clears his voice. “I didn’t know if you’d come or not.”


Yeah, I think he likes the dress just fine. “I didn’t intend on coming, but here I am all the same.”


“I’m very glad you did. You look lovely.”


“Thank you, Lachlan.” His light blue eyes lock with mine and I give him a smug smile, letting him know I’m happy I won.


The smile he gives me in return is complacent. “Did you like the Sauvignon Blanc last night?”


“I did.”


“Would you like to have that again or try something else?”


I shrug. “That’s fine.”


He orders our wine and then sits back in his chair, seemingly pleased with himself. “I assume you’re here to discuss my proposal.”


I sit up straighter when I take notice of myself slouching. I can’t show any sign of weakness if I’m going to keep the upper hand. “It would seem so.”


“Ask me anything.” He’s so beautiful and confident. Dammit, it’s unnerving.


I lace my fingers together and prop my elbows on the table. Yes, I know that’s considered rude at dinner, but I like the confidence it gives me. “You have no qualms about asking me to do this. I assume you’ve done this before?”


“Yes, but never for more than three to four weeks. Three months would be new for me, but I’m excited about trying something different.”


I’m anxious to point out how he has already tried something new by giving up one of his biggest stipulations for me. “You told me your name, so that’s different. Does that mean your issue with being anonymous has changed?”


He takes a big drink of wine. “Lachlan isn’t my real name. You needed something to call me, so that’s what I chose.”


“Oh.” I feel my silly girlish hope deflate. “How many times have you done this?”


It could be in the hundreds. Or worse, maybe he has no idea.


“Is that really important?” He’s stalling, so knowing the number becomes crucial to me at this point—a make-or-break kind of significance.


“It’s important to me.”


His brow wrinkles and I think he’s doing the math in his head. “I guess there’s been twelve.”


I admit twelve is far fewer than I’d imagined, but he has to guess? We’re not talking a hundred and twelve, so is it really that hard to be sure? “When did you start doing this?”


“The first time was four years ago. I did it on a whim and I liked it. It works for me, so I haven’t had any other type of relationship since.”


Twelve women in four years. That wasn’t … terrible. “And you didn’t tell any of those women who you are?”


“No.”


Here comes the biggie. “Do you always have sex with the women who agree to a relationship like this with you?”


“Yes.” That’s what I expected him to say, but hearing him admit it gives me more of a reality check. I would be added to a list occupied by twelve others before me.


He sees the reality of it all registering in my head. “Don’t think about the others. I don’t.”


And he wouldn’t think of me either three months from now when he moves on to the woman after me. I’m surprised by how that bothers me. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”


He reaches across the table and puts his hand on top of mine. “I won’t feel like a stranger to you for long. You’ll come to know me quickly. And it’ll be the real me, even if you don’t know my name.”


I’m attracted to this man, but I’m not sure I can ever feel comfortable enough to have sex with him when I don’t know his name.


“You’ll be surprised how quickly our relationship will progress when there are no silly pretenses. We come together knowing what the other’s expectations are, so it makes things easier, more relaxed. Our time together is so much more enjoyable because our only motives are to enjoy each other’s company. There’s no pressure and it’s … fantastic.”