Over.
She would be his pretend girlfriend and she’d be his whore. He’d paid for both.
What she wouldn’t do was forget what she was to him and allow herself to enjoy it.
The first would be even stupider than she normally was and the second made her feel even worse about what she’d become.
So she’d admit to her confused feelings to Jenny and Jenny would help her find strength. Jenny always did.
And Abby would somehow find a way to do what she was being paid to do for Cash but keep herself firmly detached.
As ordered, Abby had been in Cash’s bed that night when he got home late and woke her briefly when he turned her drowsy, pliant body into his warm, hard one.
“You’re home safe,” she’d whispered, soft relief in her voice, not yet steeled against him as she was mostly asleep.
“Yes, love,” he’d murmured, “go back to sleep.”
Immediately cuddling into him, she’d done as she was told.
It was the next morning that they had their gargantuan, knock-down, drag-out, fight.
Something made her wake early. Earlier even than Cash who routinely woke at what Abby considered alarming hours.
Upon waking she realised she was, as she’d made a habit of doing, snuggled into him. This time tucked into his side, head on his shoulder, arm wrapped around his belly.
Unusually, her brain started functioning instantly. She looked at the clock to see it was just before five and she moved carefully away. She got up and went to the bathroom, going about her morning business, even to the point of brushing her teeth, washing her face and showering.
She walked out of the bathroom wearing her new cashmere robe, her wet hair combed back. She was determined to make coffee and be in the kitchen when he descended, ready to make him breakfast before he left for work.
Not be available to him for the activities in which he liked to engage when he woke. Activities she liked too. Activities that might weaken her resolve.
The problem was, when she came out of the bathroom, the light was on and Cash was awake, alert and lying on his side in the bed. He was up on elbow, head resting in his hand, covers down around his waist, his sleek chest in full view and, lastly, his dark eyes were on her. He had that warm, soft expression on his face that he’d shown her the night he’d given her the robes.
Her firm resolve to be Abigail Butler, Skilled but Detached Full-Time Escort and Part-Time Whore slipped a notch at the sight of him and she had to quickly fortify her defences.
“You’re awake,” she announced unnecessarily and he gave her a lazy smile.
At his smile, Abby’s puny defences crashed down in a humiliating heap and she was forced early on to dig into her reserves.
“It looks good on you,” he said instead of commenting on her inane remark.
Abby stopped at the foot of the bed and asked, “Pardon?”
His head dipped toward her but other than that he didn’t move.
However when he spoke, his voice was that deep, throaty, rich that she liked so very much. “The dressing gown, it looks good on you.”
Abby swallowed then replied, “Thank you.”
“Why are you up?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she lied.
“You should have woken me, we could have showered together,” he told her.
At the thought of showering with him (which they’d done on Sunday morning and she’d enjoyed it, like, a lot), she found herself digging even deeper into those reserves. She also found this a little concerning considering their conversation had lasted less than five minutes and she was already losing her willpower.
Before she could announce her intention to go make coffee and politely suggest she’d bring him a cup which she thought would be a nice touch, he pushed up from his elbow.
“Come here,” he said softly as he swung his legs around and got out of bed.
He walked to the armchair by the window, grabbed his suit jacket and when she got close he took her hand, led her back to the bed and seated himself on it, tugging her into his lap.
His lap was definitely not where she wanted to be if she wanted to keep herself distant from him but she also had to keep up the charade.
However, Abby’s brain decided it didn’t like the charade all that much and registered how nice it was to sit in his lap. Her brain also took that opportunity to remind her about other nice things about Cash that she liked.
She absently noted his hands were doing something with his suit jacket but she was deep in thought. She was digging way deep to harden herself against the fact that she liked sitting in his lap and all the other things she liked about him besides.
She came back to the room when he leaned into her and tossed his jacket so it landed back on the chair.
And she felt her eyes grow wide just as she felt her body go still when she saw the long, slim, royal-blue, velvet box in his hand.
An unmistakable kind of box.
The kind of box that held jewellery.
Expensive jewellery.
“Cash,” she whispered as he forced it to click open with his thumb and her breath lodged in her throat at what she saw.
He took out a delicate diamonds-in-platinum bracelet.
Not a tacky, ostentatious one but instead it was subtle and striking, with slim links separated by tasteful, not overly large (but not small by a long shot) diamonds.
He tossed the box carelessly on the bed and his fingers wrapped around her arm below the elbow, slowly drifting down to her wrist. He lifted it and placed the bracelet around her wrist as Abby stared at his hands, concentrating on breathing.
“We were going into the meeting,” he murmured while working the clasp, “I saw this in a window. It made me think of you so I sent Moira in to get it.”
Abby failed at concentrating on her breathing. Her lungs burned their demand for oxygen but she couldn’t for the life of her remember how to give it to them.
Cash finished fastening the bracelet on her wrist but he wasn’t done. He brought her wrist to his mouth and he kissed her gently, his lips brushing the sensitive skin on the inside.
For a moment Abby almost pressed her hand against his face. She almost leaned in to press her lips to his. She almost burst into tears.
His eyes came to her, they travelled over her face and he must have read her intent because his expression got soft before his arms went around her and he whispered, “You can thank me now.”
The breath came back to her lungs and with it came something she didn’t know she had in her.
It was something ugly but useful, if she intended to guard her thoughts, her emotions, and, if she was honest, her heart.