clue myself? “I like sex. Surely that’s not a surprise.”
“No, it’s not,” he gave an amused smile, “and don’t call me Shirley.” The Airplane callback.
“Before, I worked as a customer service rep for a media company. I goddamn hated it. At the club, I got paid to do something I like.”
“How long did you work for Joseph?”
“A little less than a year.”
He fidgeted in his seat, snapping and unsnapping the cover of his iPad.
“Ask it, Dominic.”
He still hesitated. Not wanting to know and yet desperate to. “How many guys have you been with?”
“I don’t keep count. You want the ballpark?” He broke off eye contact. I didn’t know why I cared what he thought. It never bothered me before. I’d dealt with slut-shaming since high school. “I saw one client a night, every Friday and Saturday. I didn’t work every weekend, but most, but sometimes I couldn’t reach a deal with a client. I had some regulars too.”
Dominic’s shoulders tightened. “Less than a hundred.”
“At the club? Yeah. There were some before, you know, my time in high school and college.” I clenched my teeth when I saw the disappointment in his eyes. Like he was embarrassed for me. Acid rose in my stomach. “And what’s your number?”
“Less.”
Obviously less. He hadn’t had any in the last year, during which I’d been a professional. “Don’t put that fucking double-standard on me. Do you know how many guys go trolling the bars for a new girl every weekend? Why is it okay for you guys to rack up numbers, but I’m not allowed to do the same?”
His eyebrows pulled together and he looked like there was a struggle raging inside him. Maybe he knew what I was saying was true, but he still didn’t like it. Oh, well.
“I’m not going to be embarrassed about it. At least I’ve never paid for sex.”
There was that sparkling Payton personality. His back snapped straight and he scowled. I’d hurt him, but he didn’t get to have it both ways.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but you don’t get to judge me for working at the club when you’re the one who walked through the door.”
He blinked oh-so-slowly, and the hurt from his eyes faded. It came out unsteady and hushed. “You’re right.”
That wasn’t what I expected. Most people got angry and defensive when they were called out. All he did was consider my statement, and then accept it. Perhaps with a bit of reluctance, but he accepted it anyway.
“Like you, I didn’t keep count, but I’d guess my number is somewhere around fifty. And not to sound like a cocky piece of shit, but it would be higher if I wasn’t in Tokyo.”
I couldn’t help it. My eyes raked over his body. Oh, yeah.
“Someone mentioned to me once,” he said, his eyes warming a shade, “that I could walk into a bar and women would be willing to drop their panties for me. I’m not sure if I believe her, though. She may or may not be a vampire.”
How did he do that? How did he readjust his emotions so easily? I was worked up, expecting an argument, and he just dissipated everything. Another sign I was in trouble with this one.
Shit, Dominic was dangerous.
chapter
ELEVEN
It was four in the afternoon Tokyo time when we landed, but it felt like two in the morning to me. My eyes were heavy and burning for more sleep, but otherwise I was charged and excited. We’d each gotten a decent nap in during the flight.
Japan. I knew nothing of it other than the glamorized version from movies and TV. It was supposed to be the mecca of the cutting edge, fashion and technology. But Dominic said that wasn’t quite true. Parts of Japan had less technology than rural, small-town America did. Cash was still king, not plastic. ATMs were inside the banks, which closed at six. Fax machines were preferred over email.
The airport was beautiful, modern, and bustling with travelers, and after we got through customs and immigration and claimed our luggage, Dominic led me to the counter
“No, it’s not,” he gave an amused smile, “and don’t call me Shirley.” The Airplane callback.
“Before, I worked as a customer service rep for a media company. I goddamn hated it. At the club, I got paid to do something I like.”
“How long did you work for Joseph?”
“A little less than a year.”
He fidgeted in his seat, snapping and unsnapping the cover of his iPad.
“Ask it, Dominic.”
He still hesitated. Not wanting to know and yet desperate to. “How many guys have you been with?”
“I don’t keep count. You want the ballpark?” He broke off eye contact. I didn’t know why I cared what he thought. It never bothered me before. I’d dealt with slut-shaming since high school. “I saw one client a night, every Friday and Saturday. I didn’t work every weekend, but most, but sometimes I couldn’t reach a deal with a client. I had some regulars too.”
Dominic’s shoulders tightened. “Less than a hundred.”
“At the club? Yeah. There were some before, you know, my time in high school and college.” I clenched my teeth when I saw the disappointment in his eyes. Like he was embarrassed for me. Acid rose in my stomach. “And what’s your number?”
“Less.”
Obviously less. He hadn’t had any in the last year, during which I’d been a professional. “Don’t put that fucking double-standard on me. Do you know how many guys go trolling the bars for a new girl every weekend? Why is it okay for you guys to rack up numbers, but I’m not allowed to do the same?”
His eyebrows pulled together and he looked like there was a struggle raging inside him. Maybe he knew what I was saying was true, but he still didn’t like it. Oh, well.
“I’m not going to be embarrassed about it. At least I’ve never paid for sex.”
There was that sparkling Payton personality. His back snapped straight and he scowled. I’d hurt him, but he didn’t get to have it both ways.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but you don’t get to judge me for working at the club when you’re the one who walked through the door.”
He blinked oh-so-slowly, and the hurt from his eyes faded. It came out unsteady and hushed. “You’re right.”
That wasn’t what I expected. Most people got angry and defensive when they were called out. All he did was consider my statement, and then accept it. Perhaps with a bit of reluctance, but he accepted it anyway.
“Like you, I didn’t keep count, but I’d guess my number is somewhere around fifty. And not to sound like a cocky piece of shit, but it would be higher if I wasn’t in Tokyo.”
I couldn’t help it. My eyes raked over his body. Oh, yeah.
“Someone mentioned to me once,” he said, his eyes warming a shade, “that I could walk into a bar and women would be willing to drop their panties for me. I’m not sure if I believe her, though. She may or may not be a vampire.”
How did he do that? How did he readjust his emotions so easily? I was worked up, expecting an argument, and he just dissipated everything. Another sign I was in trouble with this one.
Shit, Dominic was dangerous.
chapter
ELEVEN
It was four in the afternoon Tokyo time when we landed, but it felt like two in the morning to me. My eyes were heavy and burning for more sleep, but otherwise I was charged and excited. We’d each gotten a decent nap in during the flight.
Japan. I knew nothing of it other than the glamorized version from movies and TV. It was supposed to be the mecca of the cutting edge, fashion and technology. But Dominic said that wasn’t quite true. Parts of Japan had less technology than rural, small-town America did. Cash was still king, not plastic. ATMs were inside the banks, which closed at six. Fax machines were preferred over email.
The airport was beautiful, modern, and bustling with travelers, and after we got through customs and immigration and claimed our luggage, Dominic led me to the counter
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