Sometimes what you see is not what you get. I didn't realize this evening could positively change something in me until now that I feel different, upgraded, the old and disintegrated version of me slowly unblurring into someone strong.

I may not have my sight yet, thanks to the awful blindfold that I'm used to by now, but I have this sense of safety and confidence redeemed in just one sexual intercourse with a stranger. Those pieces of a broken woman in me are slowly restored.

I am beautiful. He makes me feel that and more. He's crumbled the wall of doubt I've personally built by believing otherwise.

"I have to go, Arabella," he states in a lazy whisper, interrupting my deep thoughts. I don't move from his arms, for it's the last thing I want to do. "Are you sleeping?" The gentleness of his lips scraping mine feels intimate.

And now, more than ever, I don't want him to go. But it shouldn't be this way—I shouldn't get comfortable by any means.

"No, I'm not sleeping," I breathe.

"Thinking then?" His rough knuckled graze my cheek almost adorably.

Instinctively I pull his face down and serve myself a little more of his lips. He lets me, and deeply our kiss goes until I'm breathless, and it's not wild but gentle.

Stop, Arabella! My inner wisdom yells.

"If you keep this up I'll fuck you again," he mutters, his voice wild and enticing. Playful even. I smile fondly, reprieved that he can't resist much. "And I think that's your intention."

"No, it's not." I giggle, and his laughter comes out carefree.

Becoming a sex addict on our first involvement? No, let's not go overboard.

"So you deposited the money even before I gave you what you wanted?" I ask.

I hate to admit it, but this is more important to me than the exquisite sex of my life.

"Yes, I did," he replies.

"Why?"

An easy contemplative silence ensues until he whispers, "I believed you'd say yes... and you did. No more questions, Arabella."

And more questions mount in my head. That was more confusing than constitutional affairs. Why do I feel like there's more to it?

"Well, for someone who buys sex... that was surely generous and foolish at the same time," I blurt out, no pun intended.

He strokes my face tenderly, mothering a laugh. "I think there's some misunderstanding between us, Arabella." He sighs deeply; I wonder what he means by that. "I don't buy sex," he adds sternly.

"Oh?" I frown, confused.

"Look," he goes on, withdrawing all the touching and teasing. "The only thing I'm paying you for is your time. I'm a very demanding person, and you should know time is an asset. I'll need you whenever I want to need you, and that's why it needs to be compensated. Quit thinking that you're selling your body to me, because if I want to buy you, Arabella, I'll buy more than just your body. I'll buy all of you and I'm not sure you're ready for that."

I'm hypnotized by his voice, innervated by his words, and amused by his superiority. He knows what to say every time, doesn't he? I take off this blindfold, but I know the repercussions.

And so, is this supposed to make me feel better? That he's perhaps different from the men I serve drinks in casinos? That he's an improvised version of sadistic ones I know by heart? He's confusing me.

"I see no difference. All I know is that I want your money desperately, and to get that I ought to comply with all of your demands. Don't try to romanticize our situation, Mister Castle, because I'm smart enough to understand what kind of game we're playing," I say my thoughts without a filter. "And also, I'm okay with it. You take what you can take, and I'll get what I can get. I'm a practical woman—life taught me to be one, so don't build me a sandy castle that will crush away at the first wave it comes across."

I slowly detach from his arms, ready to get up and leave this bedroom. I need a breather. Perhaps a bathroom will do.

"Why are you so afraid to step out of your little closet, Arabella?" His baritone voice stops me from moving. I'm already seated so I hug the sheet tight to my chest. He also rises. "Who put you in, huh?" he quizzes, curiosity and grand concerns lacing his voice.

I inhale sharply.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I mutter. "You're paying me an insane amount of money and for that, we're onto a business—-legitimately or not. That's all there's to know so let's stick to it, shall we?"

Tears linger in my eyes; if I blink, they fall.

The mattress sinks from his weight, and at last, he's taken off the bed.

Gently, he says, "Focus on your studies now. No more distractions. I'm flying back to New York tomorrow."

"What? You're leaving?" I ask abruptly.

Why do I feel distraught by the news?

"I'll only be gone for two or three days. I've got some important matters to attend to. Why? Are you disappointed?" He laughs quietly, slowly putting on his clothes as I hear the familiar movements.

A little, I guess. Fuck, why? He's paid me, so I shouldn't be disappointed at all, right?

"Well, not really. But good luck with whatever you're dealing with. You can take your time. I don't mind." I lay back in bed, crossing my arms behind my head.

"You're such a liar." I can imagine his smile. "But guess what? I am disappointed to leave you," he mutters. Weird joy erupts through my chest. "I'll call you. Stay safe. And if you have a problem, call me." He's grabbing his stuff, the sound of his watch rejoining his wrist being the first thing I hear.

"Okay." I feel lovelorn somehow as I hear footsteps heading to the living room.

What the heck is my problem now?

I don't desire to look at his face as much as I did a few moments ago. Surprisingly, it's the need to know what's going on in his mind, his heart that doesn't seem fresh and unwounded, and his world that's surely different from mine.

What is he? That's the question. The mere physical attributes of his outer looks become very trivial to me. It's okay to imagine him as godly as Zeus, or as charming as Dwayne Johnson. But what's inside him—I need to know it all.

I take a warm shower while thinking of no one but him. I anticipated feeling disgusted with myself after having the so-called business sex, but it's quite the opposite. Maybe 'liberated' would be the perfect word for my current state, because I feel gratified.

Mario is already waiting for me outside as I finish brushing my hair. When I hold my cell phone I find several missed calls from Sally. Holy fuck! Did something happen to my siblings? Immediately I call back while grabbing my bag ready to go.

"You scheming witch, where have you been all this time? I'm freezing outside your house and you changed the password?" She lashes and this is a much better greeting coming from her.

I've got no decent friend when it comes to foul mouths—which makes three of us.

And yeah, I changed the password when we fixed the new lock.

"So much hatred for your fault, sweetheart. Next time call before bursting into a busy witch's scary abode. Get your ass at Ben's and I'll be there in a whiff." I smile brightly while locking the door, my phone between my shoulder and cheek.

"You're paying! Got it?" she snaps.

"Sure." I roll my eyes.

"And you'll have to pay for two because Josh is here." I hear a motorcycle roaring and it gotta be him. "Now hurry up."

"Isla and Jake okay?" I ask subtly.

"Of course. They're having a blast at home, which is now more like an amusement park for kids and teenagers. That's why I left, but mom and granny are there," Sally replies.

"Cool. Laters."

Mario graces me with his reverent smile as he holds the rear door open. Smiling back, wordlessly, I slip into my seat and take a deep breath. It only takes a minute until the Mercedes scampers away from the hotel and my mind wanders.

Two hours locked up in the room with Mr. Strange

What an evening!

When I recall something most important about it, I sprint my hand inside the bag to get my mobile. I need to make sure of it. The bank app requires my pin, and after tapping the digits down I get into the balance request that urges me to wait.

I should start with the rent. Do I have the money? My heart beats faster.

Your account balance is...

"Holy Fuck!" I mutter.

"Excuse me?" Mario asks gently.

I glance sharply at him. "Um, nothing. I'm just talking to myself."

"Oh, okay." He continues driving.

Back to my phone's screen, I keep gawking. More than A hundred thousand USD in my account? This has never happened before.

I am fucking rich!

But how? Why? What did I do to deserve it?

What is Adrian Castle's agenda? Is it all about sex? 

A/N: Thank you for reading. Don't forget to touch the little star below. For character aesthetics and news, follow my profile and Instagram account Geegervy