Chapter 6

Sandra

Rico places me delicately in the passenger seat of his car.

Having him this close is almost torture; I can smell the thick scent of his cologne and feel the hard plains of his well-maintained body.

I never thought I'd be in a situation where I'd be locked in a car with my boss after having watched him beat down a man for his intentions. I'm not upset. I can't say that I don't think he did the right thing, but I do think he took it too far. He could have stopped well before he did, and he chose not to. He wanted to hurt that man.

His gaze meets mine as he grabs the seat belt and pulls it across my lap and shoulder, plugging it in with a click before pulling away. The odd intimacy of the gesture makes me shiver, and I tuck my legs in as he closes the car door behind me.

I don't think my seat belt has ever been fastened by another adult in my entire grown-up life. It's a strange trigger for the sudden warmth gathering low in my core, and I try to ignore the feeling and what it might mean.

I watch him walk around to the front of the car before settling into the driver's seat beside me.

“My car is right over there.” I gesture toward my beat-up little Honda Civic. It's not a pretty car, it's not a new car, but it gets me from point A to point B without any issues, so I'm happy. I don't need money, wealth, or things to show off to feel good about myself - I'm very much a function over form kind of person.

Of course, I think telling him that having my car here would mean that he'd let me go, let me drive home, but instead he focuses that fixed stare on me. “I can have someone deliver it wherever you want it to go.”

I blink. Never in a million years did I ever consider that as a possible answer to my statement. I try to shove down my feelings and ignore them, I can't stop thinking about how warm and tingly I feel, how my body's humming to life and how Rico protected me from someone who wanted to do awful, unspeakable things to me.

It is possible to feel like someone went too far and still be grateful for their protection, right? As confusion and heat roll through me, I glance over at him. I never considered Rico to be a nice man or a gentleman, quite the opposite for the last one; the endless parade of women in his life tells me he is not a gentleman.

It's strange, though. I never would have expected to be excited by a man protecting me like that. Maybe that's just what I'm into, but it’s not like that’ll happen again, right? I don't put myself in situations where things can go wrong or I can get hurt. Even today was just a fluke. Me choosing my job over my personal safety isn't something that I do lightly.

Honestly, my main motivator today was just not wanting to find another job. Rico pays very handsomely; at least double the rate of any other job as a personal assistant that I can get in this city. I have no doubt that his going rate is so high because he has trouble keeping personal assistants and after working with him for over a year, I can understand why everyone leaves.

But working for him really isn't that bad, and it affords me the opportunity to pay off my student debts for the veterinarian degree I didn't complete, as well as a chance to build up savings once my debt is wiped out.

“What would you like to do now?” His softly spoken question has my heart pounding.

If I'm being honest, I'd like to go back in the club. Not in the green room, of course, but maybe one of their red rooms, just to watch and see everything that's happening and just be a fly on the wall for everybody else's good time.

Of course, that's a secret thought that I'll never share with anyone and there's no way I'll actually go back in the club. Being in there reminds me that I am a woman, that I do have a sex drive, that there are things I would like to try, and of course, that there's a lot more to sex than I ever thought. I also can’t help but worry that, with how aroused I already am, that going back in might mean that I do something I could regret.

And with the way Rico's looking at me right now, I can't imagine he'd be against any thought I might have. But do I really want my first time to be with someone who sleeps with women indiscriminately? Do I want to stop saving myself in favor of a man who will just love me and leave me without a second thought? How much of my self-worth have I tied to being a virgin and saving myself for marriage?

Rico won't marry me – he's not that kind of guy, and it's silly of me to even think that might be a possibility.

The only thing that I know for sure is if I go back in the club, I will absolutely do something that I can't undo. Everything that I've ever believed, everything I've saved myself for, will be completely undone.

A little voice inside me whispers, Would that really be a bad thing?

I'm not willing to face that thought or idea, and I shove that thought down inside as I realize that minutes are ticking by as he waits for my response, his hands on the steering wheel, his knuckles flexing.

“Maybe drop me off at home?”

“Are you sure you want to be alone right now?” As he says the words, I realize they're probably the closest he'll ever come to apologizing to me for nearly being attacked in his club. I'm not stupid. I know that rule number one in Rico's businesses is never admit guilt or fault.

But I'm not like him. I can admit my part in things. “I shouldn't have run off like I did. I knew that different rooms meant different things and I wasn't paying attention. I put myself in harm's way, and I don't blame you for that just like I wouldn't blame you if I ran out in traffic and almost got hit by a car.”

I don't want him to think there will be any kind of negative repercussions from me based on what happened in his club today. And not just because I want to protect my job, but because I honestly don't feel he's at fault. I made an adult decision, and it very nearly led to me getting attacked. That’s on me, not him.

“I don't generally allow people in my club without a membership.” His hands flex on the steering wheel, and the leather grip gives a squeak of protest. “There are waivers to sign, rules to agree to, and everyone must know each color by heart before coming inside.”

“That's a smart way to run your business.” I'm not really sure how that pertains to me at all, and I suddenly find myself worried. “You're not going to fire the doorman for letting me in, are you? It's really not his fault.”

Rico glances at me. “If you don't want me to, I won't. But he will absolutely go through a retraining program before he's back on the floor again.” I can see there's something else in his eyes, something he doesn't quite want to admit, and I gently attempt to coax it out of him.

“There's something else, something you're holding back.”

His jaw flexes as if he's gritting his teeth. “I wanted you there, for me.”