Chapter Eight

Ivy

Rafael, I'm sure you're tired of banging your housekeeper by now. I think you should dump her before the news gets out and stains your reputation. I'm always here for you should you need someone to make you feel better than any other woman could.

Love,

Tamara Rodriguez.

I memorized every word of that email. Every punctuation is etched into my brain. I even tried reading it in her voice, and I have to admit that it stings. But she's not so wrong though. I am beneath Rafael.

What we have never should have happened. But it did. And it's still happening; for how long, though? Last night, when he showed me that message, he thought it was funny. And although I was pissed and showed him, he found my anger funny too.

As a matter of fact, he made sweet love to me after our argument. And I let him. He seems to be in a good spirit, though. Something I'm unable to understand. So after he fell asleep, I snuck out of his house and walked home, where I crawled into my bed. I have since been unable to get a wink of sleep.

I've played over the gala event hundreds of times in my head. Who looked at me in some way, who responded to my greetings, and who didn't. Who spoke to Rafael while we walked inside, pretending I didn't exist.

Do I even exist in his world? If so, where's my place?

Sometime in the early morning hours, my phone rings and I see the call is from him. I try to ignore it, but my heart wins over my head.

"You're not here." Is the first thing he says the moment I pick up the call.

"Yeah, I needed to attend to something at the apartment."

"Oh, okay."

"Why'd you call?"

"Nothing. I was just hoping we could have a repeat of last night before I go to work."

His words sting. He called me because he wants sex. But I can't afford to let my feelings show. "You'll have to make do with the memory of last night."

"I guess. See you later tonight?"

"Sure."

I take the phone away from my ear, but he speaks again. "Listen, about last night, I know you were upset about that message from Tamara. But I assure you there's nothing to worry about. Your pussy is perfect for me. I'm not looking to replace you anytime soon."

Oh my God, can he be any more obnoxious?

So sex is the only reason he's keeping me around? I can't say I didn't know what I was getting myself into from the beginning, but I guess a small part of me was hoping that…

That he would what? Fall in love with you? This isn't a fairytale, Ivy; this is real life.

Of course, girls like me can never get a man like him. He's not only way out of my league; I will never fit well into his life. While he may have taken me on many dates over the past few weeks to places where I was treated like royalty, there's no forgetting how everyone looked at me at that gala.

"Ivy, are you there?" His voice jolts me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah, sorry. I'll see you tonight."

I end the call before he can say anything else. Then, spend the rest of the morning trying to figure out what to do. When I can't come up with any tangible decisions, I dial Roxanne.

"Well, look who finally remembered she has a best friend," Roxanne teases.

I laugh. She's just being dramatic. She and I spoke four days ago. Although we used to talk more frequently, Rafael has been taking most of my time lately. Rafael again, he's at the forefront of everything these days!

"How are you doing?" I ask.

"I'm good. I don't have any billionaire boss-slash-boyfriend to take me out on numerous exotic dates, but I'm all right."

She just has to bring him up. "How's work?" I ask her, wanting to change the topic. I'm not sure I want to talk about Rafael just yet.

"Work's good. I have the day off, and I plan to spend it alone, just in case you're thinking of trying to snatch me."

I wasn't planning on it. I have work today, or do I? I don't even know anymore. I'm certain Rafael won't have any problems with it if I don't show up for work ‘til evening. Still, I also don't want to blur the lines between our work relationship and our sexual one more than I already have.

Wait, am I still going to have my job when he eventually does get tired of my pussy?

"Work is good, but I know you didn't call me at nine a.m. to ask about my job, so why don't you tell me what's really going on?"

"Nothing!" I lie a little too fast and immediately know I'm busted.

"You want to try that again?"

I sigh and drag myself out of bed, pacing around the room to gather my thoughts. "I don't know, Roxanne. It's just this thing with Rafael, it's—"

"Did he do something?" she asks, cutting me off with suspicion all over her tone.

I pause. Did he do something? Apart from telling me about Tamara and then proceeding to tell me he thinks my pussy is perfect, which by the way, is the foundation upon which our arrangement was built. This is a sexual arrangement. I'm the one who's getting my panties twisted by developing feelings for him.

"No," I say reluctantly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then what's the problem?"

"Nothing, I guess." What is wrong with me?

"You want my advice?" Tamara asks.

I nod. That's the reason I called her, even though I didn't know it until now. "Please."

"I don't want to assume, but I think the problem here might be you're becoming overwhelmed. You've never had a man take you seriously before; now you do, and you're getting cold feet. But if you ask me, I'll say stop letting your head get in the way of you having fun, okay? Live while you still can. When all this is done, you'll always look back and be glad for the experience."

Oh boy. She's got it so wrong. But I don't tell her that. Not when I just realized what it is I need to do. "All right, girl. I'll think about it. Thanks. Now, enough about me; tell me what you've been up to."

She launches into talking about herself. We spent the next hour discussing her love life. She's seeing someone new, too. I made her promise to introduce me to him soon before I ended the call. With the phone in my hand, I start to do what I know is inevitable.

—Rafael, I would like to end our current arrangement as I am no longer comfortable with it. It's been fun while it lasted, but I'd like things to go back as they were before, and I'd appreciate it if you respect my decision.—

I hit send before I can talk myself out of doing this. It's cowardly to break up with him over a text, but what we have isn't even a real relationship, so there's that.

The past hour has made me realize I've been playing with fire these past weeks. Rafael and I will part ways eventually, but I fear if I let this continue, I'll be too deep in to turn back.

He's given me more than enough to see Tara through school. After releasing the hundred thousand from the auction, he wired an extra five hundred thousand to my account. I tried to reject it, but he wouldn't have it.

I did this for financial security, and now I have it. What other reason do I have to continue this? I started because of money, and now that I have all the money I need, I should stop before I get hurt. I'll still keep my job if he lets me. Speaking of my job, I need to go in today before it's too late. Today is meal prep day.

As I step inside the mansion about an hour later, I know there's no way I can continue working for Rafael. I'm too deep in. Maybe I should text him back and say it was a mistake so I can stop feeling miserable?

No.

If I'm feeling this way right now, then it's just going to be worse in a couple more days, weeks, or months, however long it takes before he gets tired of me. I need to do this for myself.

As I work, my thoughts are all over the place. Sometime during the day, Sadie pops into the kitchen and pesters me with small talk. I try to engage her as best as possible, but since my head is so foggy with emotions, I can only do so much.

"Ivy, are you all right?" Sadie asks at some point.

Those words reach me deep within and have me pausing from what I'm doing. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. Just tears streaming down my face.

Sadie looks at me in alarm, her eyes filled with horror. "Oh God, what did I do?"

"Sadie, come here for a minute?" We both turn at Rafael's voice. He's standing at the kitchen entrance, his eyes on me, although his words address Sadie.

Sadie rushes toward him, and I watch him stare at me with his eyes burning hot before he turns on his heels and leads his niece out of the kitchen.

What have I done?