Chapter 6 Use Me However You Want

Leaving Fairchild Manor, I had nowhere to go, so I called my best friend Gina. The phone was off. We had been classmates at The House of Stars orphanage. She was two years older than me. A kind-hearted business magnate sponsored her. After high school, due to her looks and demeanor, she enrolled in aviation college and became a flight attendant immediately upon graduation. In fact, I'd also been supported through university by a generous benefactor, and he had helped me a great deal. But I'd never met him in person. Gina's phone being off meant she was working. I wandered aimlessly down the street. Not far ahead, I saw a shop sign glowing in the corner. As I approached, I realized it was a bar. Fine. I could use a drink. It was my first time in a bar, and it wasn't what I imagined. It wasn't bustling and loud, but quiet and still. I slowly walked up to the counter and, pretending to be a regular, said, "Give me a shot of vodka. No, make it three." I didn't know much about alcohol, but I knew this was the strong Russian spirit favored by a fighting nation—surely strong enough to knock me out and drown my sorrows. Sure enough, after downing the three shots in one go, my vision began to blur. This was clearly a respectable bar. When the bartender noticed I was swaying, he asked, "Ma'am, you've had too much. Do you have a friend I can call to take you home?" Though drunk, my mind remained clear. His question left me momentarily confused. A friend? I'd spent all my university years working odd jobs, commuting from home, and had little interaction with classmates. And Gina was working. Who else did I have… As I prepared to decline, a number flashed in my mind—Dominic Hawthorne's. I'd only learned his number a few days ago, yet it was already etched into memory. I gave the bartender Dominic's number. I heard him say "Alright," then make the call. After asking my name, I slumped onto the bar counter and waited. He definitely wouldn't come. That's what I thought. But moments later, I heard a familiar male voice cut through the silence: "Where is she?" In the quiet bar, his voice resonated like a cello's deep note—low and beautiful. I pretended to be unconscious. I felt him lift me and toss me into the passenger seat. A moment later, I sensed his masculine presence drawing near. Though I didn't know what he intended, in that instant, only two words flickered in my mind— Revenge. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but as soon as the thought arose, I opened my eyes, reached up, and hooked my arms around his neck. Locking onto his thin lips, I kissed him fiercely. I heard the seatbelt snap back. Of course. I'd overthought it. I didn't know how to kiss—my attempt was stiff and awkward. My lips barely touched his before he pushed me away. Then came his voice, dripping with disgust: "You're truly disgraceful. You don't even have basic decency." Under normal circumstances, I'd have stormed out of the car. But now, drunk and stripped of reason, I didn't move. Instead, my hazy eyes locked onto his dark ones, and I smirked. "I'm not disgraceful at all. You're my first man. She isn't." At that, Dominic's face darkened instantly. His hand shot to my throat, but the grip was light as he growled, "What did you say?" This time, his grip wasn't tight. Which only made me bolder. I slid one hand to his lower back, pressed my face closer, and whispered, "I saw Leona with Sterling Fairchild's driver in the garage. I know she slept with several boys in the dorm during school break—got caught by the dorm matron, got a disciplinary record. You can't find the first one, but the second? Just check, and it'll show up." Being so close, I clearly saw Dominic's expression grow increasingly grim. I'd heard men often had some level of sexual purity obsession. Sure enough. I reached out, pinched his waist muscle lightly, and adopted a carefree tone: "But I'm completely clean—only you've ever touched me. You can have me completely."