Driven(book one)(83)

He sighs loudly, running his hand over his jaw, scrubbing it back and forth before looking back at me. He finally speaks, his usually resonating voice, soft and hesitant as if he’s scared to tell me. “Usually, I hit it off with someone. We figure out we like each other.” He shrugs apologetically, “And then I tell her that I enjoy her company but I can only give her a good time. That I would love to spend more time with her but all I can give her is a few nights a week … to meet me here,” he gestures at the room we’re in, “and have some fun.”

I’m not sure if I want to hear his answer now that I’ve asked. “Go on …”

He cocks his head to the side and regards me intently, the timid person I’d seen moments before slowly morphing back into the confident man I expect him to be. “The first time we meet here,” he eyes me cautiously, knowing that I’m thinking this is my first time here. Was this the imminent plan he had laid out for me after screwing me on the counter? I purse my lips, trying hard to keep my face enigmatic. I nod at him to continue, anger unfurling in my belly. “Well, I sit her down and explain that I want to spend time with her, but that there is no happy ever after. Never will be. And if she can accept my terms, my requirements, then I would love to spend time with her here, have her accompany me to functions if need be, and allow her the notoriety and perks of being with me, until our arrangement has run its course.”

Wow. It takes me a minute to process his words. Talk about taking emotion out of the picture. It sounds more like a business transaction. He stares at me, unashamed now that he has more stable footing talking about something he’s in control of.

I look at him wide eyed. “This really works for you?” I sputter, taken aback. “Why not just hire an escort? I mean that’s what you’re really doing.” My head is reeling with this information and yet the masochistic part of me wants to know all the gory details. Wants to hear the words so that I heed the warning and walk away unscathed. “Someone to look pretty on your arm and for you to use when it suits you.”

“I beg to differ,” Colton says vehemently, steel in his eyes. “It’s not like that. I never exchange money for sex, Rylee. Never. I’ve already told you that once. I won’t tell you that again.”

Like he has any room to be pissy. He just told me he expects me to be his compliant little woman, happy with any scraps he throws me way. Too many thoughts are running through my head to form a coherent, intelligent response. “What—” I finally ask, stumbling for the right words. “You say your arrangement has rules. Do you mind if I ask what exactly those are?”

I’m curious. I’m horrified. I’m floored that this is the path he has chosen when he could obviously have anyone he wants.

I can sense that he’s uncomfortable, embarrassed even to respond and this fact gives me a tiny bit of hope. Hope for what though, I’m not exactly sure.

“I know it sounds cold, but I’ve found that if I lay it all out on the table beforehand, it minimizes complications and lessens expectations further down the line. That way they walk into this willingly after they know the stipulations.”

“Not me!” I shout at him. “You didn’t have the courtesy to tell me!” He starts to speak, and I raise my hand to shut him up. I need a moment to think. I need a minute to wrap my head around his screwy ideals. I lower my head, swallowing loudly. Is this what I am to him? A complication to be mitigated? God, too much information is sometimes a bad thing. I chew the inside of my lip in thought. “Why not just say friends with benefits or f*ck buddies?”

Irritation flashes through his eyes, and he shifts restlessly, running his fingers through his hair, blatantly ignoring my comment. “You really want to know this, Rylee? The stipulations?” he asks me of my original question.

I nod, biting down on my bottom lip, worrying it back and forth. “I’m curious,” I state, in the back of my head thinking that a psychiatrist would have a field day with this conversation. “I guess I’m just trying to understand this. Trying to understand you. Trying to understand what exactly you would have expected from me.” His eyebrows shoot up at my comment and I know that he’s heard me. My statement in past tense. That now he knows in no way will I be accepting his self-serving arrangement.

He sits down across from me, his eyes on mine. “Rules?” he sighs tentatively, and I nod my head for him to get on with it. “I require monogamy. I require confidentiality as my reputation as well as my family’s is very important to me.” He pauses looking deeply at me, gauging to see if he should continue. “What else?” he breathes in deeply. “I require good hygiene, that she is healthy, drug free, and STD free. Birth control is a deal breaker since as I’ve told you, children are not now, nor will they ever be an option for me or my future.”

He stops and I’m not sure if he’s really done, or just thinking of more of his requirements. Ironically enough, I don’t think his demands are all that odd. I mean it seems a little much to hammer out on a first date with someone, but if I were to be in a committed relationship with someone, these are things I’d want to know. But then again, a committed relationship to me has the promise of a future, the element of give and take, and the progression of feelings into love.

“So … Wow!” I say taking a moment, “that’s quite a laundry list of requirements. Are there any more?”