“Just a few months. He wanted to get serious really quickly, and that turned me off. I’m too young, and he’s so much older than I am.”

Shit.

She didn’t want to get serious so quickly.

So much for her possibly returning my feelings.

“Uh-huh,” was all I said.

“He’s a pretty nice guy, but he did things that annoyed me. Treated me like I was beneath him, you know?”

“How so?”

“For one thing, he always ordered my meal for me, even if I didn’t tell him what I wanted yet.”

“Then how did he know what you wanted?”

“That’s my point. He’d just order something he thought I’d like. Most of the time it was something he liked. Like foie gras.”

I laughed at that one. “But you don’t eat liver.”

“That’s what I tried to tell him, but he was convinced I’d love it if I tried it. Even today, when we had lunch, he ordered lasagna for me. I love lasagna, but maybe I wanted something else today, you know?”

“I know.”

I knew more than she was aware. My father had constantly tried to change me into something I wasn’t. An heir to run the business. Thankfully, Reid had turned out to be interested in running it, and he let me go off to “do my sissy art,” as he’d liked to put it.

Do your sissy art.

Get out of here! This has nothing to do with you! Go do your sissy art!

I froze.

33

Charlie

Roy’s gorgeous face went pale.

I stopped chattering about Blaine and how he liked to control me. At least he hadn’t been controlling in the bedroom. Actually, he’d been kind of boring in the bedroom, as if he no longer needed to please a woman because he brought so much else to the table—his position in the community, his money, his power. Not that he was bad in bed—well, his huge cock was great in bed—he just didn’t do much. He’d hated going down on me, but of course wanted blow jobs all the time, which were difficult, given his girth. In that regard, he was just like every other man on the planet.

I waited a few seconds, hoping he’d get back to normal.

When he didn’t, I said, “Roy?”

He blinked. “Yeah?”

“I think I lost you there for a minute.”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

He hadn’t been fine, but if he wanted to play it that way, I’d go along. Despite our closeness the last few days, I hardly knew the man.

The waiter returned then with our wine. He opened it and poured a tiny portion for Roy to taste. Roy pronounced it fine, so he poured me a glass.