Chapter 15 – Pleasing the Boss

“Did you tell him I absolutely would not do it?”

He looks taken aback. “I told him I would ask.”

“You didn’t tell him, ‘f**k no, that’s my wife, and no job is worth selling her out’?” My voice cracks. Maybe I’m too mad not to cry.

“Brystin, come on.” He takes a step toward me, but I put a hand out to stop him from getting closer. “Jesus f**king Christ, that’s not us. That’s not our arrangement.”

“Right. Not our arrangement.” A stupid tear leaks down my cheek.

He turns his back on me in frustration, then spins back toward me. “We said, ‘Anything it takes.’ That’s what we said. We pledged that to each other. ‘Anything it takes to get there.’ So I got your segment nominated for the award. I got you in that building, which got us here. I played his f**king douchebag game tonight.”

“A f**king messed-up game of pool is not the same as letting him inside my cunt.”

“I know. Believe me, I know, and if our positions were reversed, there’d be no f**king way I’d let him in my ass.” He raises a sharp fi**ger. “But I’ll tell you what, Brystin. If he asked me to s**k him off, I’d think about it.”

“So you’re saying that I should—”

He cuts me off. “So I’m saying it’s not my decision to make for you.” Again, his voice has gotten loud, and he takes a beat, calming down.

I let his words sink in.

Then I sink onto the bed, one foot underneath me.

He sits next to me. “I didn’t know what to say. You might have been pissed if I’d spoken for you. I didn’t know how much you wanted it, and I thought you should have the chance to decide for yourself.”

He reaches out to touch me, but backs off when I flinch. I’m furious with him. Furious. But really, I’m furious at Hadrian. Because Elvis got what he wanted, he got his show. He could have refused to let Hadrian turn me into a whore, and then what? Then my chance would definitely be shot. Possibly forever.

And if Elvis felt deeply enough to protect me anyway, it might have been worth giving up my dream.

I suppose I’m most furious at myself. For still wanting Elvis to love me like that. For still expecting that he might surprise me.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and I know from the weight in his tone that he means it.

“I know you are. This isn’t on you. I was asking a lot.”

“Stop it.” He shifts so he’s facing me. “You’re asking for what you’re worth. It might not be the usual timeline, but you’re too good to follow those rules. You deserve this show. This belongs to you.”

I usually appreciate his support. He knows it’s my love language, and his words have done a lot to bond us over the years.

Right now, though, it all feels hollow. “It doesn’t belong to me, Elvis. It belongs to him.”

He reaches out to stroke my hair, and I let him. “But it still could be yours too.”

“You think I should go?” I peer over at him, a tear on the edge of my eyelash in my peripheral vision. “You think I should do it.”

“I want you on the show. Of course I do. But do I want you to do this?” He sighs. “You could go to him on your terms. Just to talk.”

I turn my head away from him and bite back a harsh laugh. Just like a man to not understand how vulnerable a woman can be in the presence of a man like Hadrian. In his bedroom. Alone.

The worst part of it is that I don’t think any of those things sound so bad until it’s framed as the price of my dream job.

Again, I put my hands over my face. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything, sweet girl.” He runs his hand down my back. “And if it means anything, I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to do.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“I mean…” He withdraws his hand, and I know he’s thinking carefully about his words. Trying not to hurt me more, I’m sure. “I mean that I don’t want you to do anything with him that you don’t want to do, but what happens with you and other men is none of my business.”

Like what happens with him and other women isn’t my business.

Open marriage. Open relationship before that. We’ve never been monogamous.

Rather, he’s never been monogamous. The open relationship was important to him. The way no rings was important to him. And me keeping my maiden name. It was all the price for owning a part of Elvis Endlich. I never argued with any of it, but multiple partners wasn’t for me. Except for a few guys I slept with in the beginning, before we were officially together, I’ve only been with Elvis. I’ve only always wanted to be with Elvis.

And I understand that’s the foundation that Elvis is drawing on when he says that this is entirely my choice. But f**k him for the wording.

“In other words, as long as I’m okay being a whore, you’re okay with it too. Got it.” I stand up, no longer able to be next to him.

“Brystin.”

I don’t care that he’s frustrated. His feelings are the least of my concern right now. “Look, Elvis. I get what you’re saying. This has nothing to do with you. This is all about me. You’re just the messenger. I get it.”

I head into the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror. Not too horrible. Visine will help. I dig through Elvis’s toiletry bag to find a bottle. I put a drop in each eye, and when I look in the mirror again, he’s standing in the doorway behind me.

“I’m sorry.”

“You said that already.”

“I feel like I should say it again.”

“So now you have.” I grab a tissue and dab at the tears from the drops.

Elvis leans against the frame. “You sound like you’re angry with me.”

He wants me to say something to make him feel better. Wants me to take any guilt off his shoulders, but I can’t. “Because I get it, Elvis, but I hate you a little bit right now.”

“Hate me? Why?”

I toss the tissue in the trash and turn around to face him. “For being the messenger. For being a man. For having it easy.” For not being my knight riding in on a white horse.

Or even a black horse.

I would have ridden away with him into the sunset.

“I understand.” He doesn’t, but he knows well enough not to argue. “What are you going to do? What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, okay?” I brush past him, into the bedroom to retrieve my phone. “I need to think. And I need you to leave.”

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