Maria snorts and says, “Well, I can just imagine what those women have to do to land them a rich Sugar Daddy.”

Sela chokes again, a snicker pops out, and she then lunges up off the couch, mumbling, “Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.”

All three of us watch her walk away, and yeah…my eyes flip down to her retreating ass for a moment. Luckily, when I turn back to face William and Maria, they’re still looking at the hallway where Sela just disappeared.

William slowly turns his face to me and says, “Well, it all sounds very impressive. I saw the net worth of your company.”

And that embarrasses me a bit, making me feel slightly uncomfortable. I don’t want Sela’s dad to judge me on the merits of my bank account.

“She’s an amazing girl,” William says thoughtfully of his daughter. Maria reaches over and takes his hand, giving it a tiny pat of agreement. “She deserves nothing but the best.”

“Agreed,” I say.

“But she’s also set in her ways,” he continues, and this piques my interest. “She views this world in a certain way and sometimes has a hard time believing in the good of it. Be patient with her. Sela has a lot to offer anyone who has the pleasure of knowing her, but she can sometimes withdraw into herself. You ever catch her doing that, you pull her right back out again, okay?”

A sense of foreboding hits me, and a tiny spark of fear pulses within. William’s words are so serious and at odds with the jovial dad of just a few minutes ago that was thrilled to have his daughter involved with a man for the first time in her life.

“I’m pretty sure there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Sela,” I tell William solemnly, because I feel that he wants that type of promise. “I’ll take care of her.”

“Like a sugar daddy?” Maria asks, blinking innocent eyes at me.

I stare back at her completely stunned, my mouth hanging open. Then she starts laughing and points a finger at me while patting William on the leg. “You two need to lighten up. Sela’s a strong girl and doesn’t need a man making things right for her.”

I suppose that’s true, but as I look across the living room to William, I don’t see him laughing along with Maria. Instead he pins me with a direct stare, conveying silently to me that he expects me to do exactly what I just promised him. And the look on his face says that if I don’t, I will see a different side to Sela’s dad.

Chapter 23

Sela

I slip on the Tag Heuer that Beck surprised me with last weekend when we spent a day shopping around San Francisco. After Caroline and Ally left, the apartment was almost stifling in its stillness, and he suggested a day out and about. It included a stop at an upscale jeweler where he insisted on buying me this stainless-steel beauty with a white ceramic face and diamonds around the edge, as well as twelve on the face for each hour. It’s beautiful and so me; not too delicate, a little bold, and not the slightest bit ostentatious despite the high price tag. I put up an argument against his getting it for me, but Beck shut me up with a simple statement.

“Don’t take this away from me. I’ve never had anyone I could buy jewelry for.”

Checking the time, I note I have about ten minutes before I have to get down to the lobby so the doorman can hail me a cab. Tonight’s the big dinner with JT and my nerves have been vibrating all day. Beck got called into the office about three hours ago, something I didn’t quite understand. He’s the freakin’ owner of a multimillion-dollar business and yet he was spending his Saturday at the office helping programmers with some meddlesome code. Beck explained to me that they were launching a new platform at the beginning of the year, and while that was still thirty days away, the work was round the clock to meet the deadline. When the programmers got stuck, Beck was the big cheese, and this was his baby, so he went in to work. He took a suit with him, since we were dining in a very fancy and posh restaurant, and gave me a long, sizzling kiss to help ease the sting of ditching me today.

I easily forgave him though. It was hard not to after the wonderful time we had with my dad last night, who very much liked and approved of Beck. Before we left, he gave me an all-encompassing hug and whispered in my ear, “I’m really happy for you, honey.”

I’m happy for me too.

Will be much happier if I can get past tonight.

There is no doubt in my mind that I’m getting ready to face an incredibly hard few hours. To sit at a table with my rapist—a man who is so vile I want to scratch his eyes out and castrate him at the same time—has me wondering if I have the mettle within me to pull off such an act.

I should be able to do it. The first few weeks with Beck, much of what I showed him was nothing but a superb performance worthy of an Oscar. But that façade soon gave way to feelings and emotions that were genuine to my soul, and as I stand here now, looking in the mirror above the sink vanity, I know that if I’m going to keep the purity of my relationship with Beck, I need to stick to my new quest. I need to release my need for vengeance and pour my efforts into a relationship with a man I’ve come to care deeply for. In my heart, I know that my rewards will be infinitely greater if I manage to pull this off.

The doorbell rings and it startles me. No one ever comes to Beck’s condo unless it’s for a delivery of some sort, and I’ve found out that Beck likes to have things delivered to me. I’ve received countless flowers, candy, and even a set of naughty lingerie that he received the benefit of that one night when I greeted him at the door wearing it.

In fact, I’m betting there’s probably a bouquet of daisies and freesia waiting on the other side, probably an unnecessary apology from Beck for his bailing on me today.

Smiling, I walk down the hallway, past the large dining room table and into the foyer, my heels clacking on the hardwood flooring. I pull the door open, expecting the smell of flowers to hit me, and instead find myself facing Jonathon Townsend.

He stands there casually, both hands tucked into the pockets of an expensive pair of black dress pants. His suit jacket is unbuttoned, showcasing a pristine starched white shirt underneath, sans tie and unbuttoned at his throat.

His eyes pin me in place and he gives me a smile that falls somewhere between licentious and bland. “Hello, Sela.”

My fingers tighten on the knob and I resist the urge to slam the door in his face. I swallow past the dryness in my throat, will my heart rate to calm down, and ask, “What are you doing here?”