Page 42 of Risk

A sweet, fun, breath of fresh air.

A gorgeous, wild, sexy creature.

The oasis to my suffering heat.

The other night was, hands down, the best sex of my life. I want more of it. More baths, more laughter, more orgasms, and foot massages. I want to spoil Leah, ravage her, and feed her from my lap. I want to take her places and buy her pretty things. Show her off. Get her off.

She’s nothing like the other women in my life. I don’t want to lose her yet.

Fuck, I don’t want to lose her at all.

I’m pussy whipped already. It’s not a good look for me.

I’m seriously debating calling off my meetings and staying behind just so I can convince her to give me a chance.

Wow, talk about uncharted territory. I’ve never had to persuade a woman in my life.

In my experience, it’s the woman who always chases after me. Once someone learns how filthy rich I am, they start kissing ass or sucking dick. I know when I’m being used, and I decide how long to let the bullshit game last. But Leah is different. She doesn’t seem impressed with my status. She’s making her own way in this world, and I love that for her.

The other night, I worshipped her body and took care of her afterwards. The bubble bath, the pampering—it was the greatest night I’ve had with anyone. Brushing Leah’s hair will forever be in my top five favorite experiences. Her long dirty blonde hair was so thick and soft, like fat silk ribbons I could run my fingers through. And she smelled so goddamn good. It was my shampoo, my soap, my clothes on her, yet Leah somehow morphed those fragrances and made them her own. Sweet and divine. Sugar and spice.

We talked for hours about all kinds of shit. I learned she has two sisters, her parents got divorced when she was fifteen, and she’s closest to her mom. Leah’s twenty-six, has a degree in business, and started cleaning houses while in college because she could pick her hours and work around her hectic class schedule. She ended up loving it enough to continue cleaning after college.

“I moved here and got in with a ritzy cleaning service. They pay a little better, but the clientele is easier to work with most of the time. Most of the houses I clean are a second or even third home to these clients, so I can bang through their houses in no time, and still charge the full amount,” she’d said.

My girl is a genius. She saw an opportunity and worked it in her favor.

But Leah could make a fuckload more money working for a large company or even for herself. When I brought that up, she said she’s got something in the works but wouldn’t share with me what that was. I respect that. I don’t tell people my business plans either until they’re already signed, sealed, and complete.

Leah also said she’d rather do what she loves and be poor than do something she hates and be rich.

I’ve never met someone who says shit like that and truly means it. Leah fucking means it.

When I brought up her side gig as a camgirl she’d said, “I like being watched.”

We have so much in common, it’s scary.

I asked if she’s worried about being recognized as Daisy Ren out in the wild. She told me, “I’m sometimes recognized when I’m all dolled up. Even though on camera, I’ve exaggerated my features or wear a mask, sometimes I’m still caught.” Then she laughed and said, “The first one to spot me was a woman at a concert. She and her boyfriend were next to me in the merch line. It was so awkward because they totally called me out on being Daisy Ren, like I was some kind of celebrity. It caught me so off guard I didn’t have the wits to lie and deny.”

When she laughed about it, something inside me growled with possessiveness.

I’ll never tell Leah to stop being a camgirl. If that’s what she likes to do, so be it. Besides, I like when people admire what’s mine. But there are some motherfuckers who can’t separate fantasy from reality and that could jeopardize her safety if she isn’t careful.

Before I went into a lecture about it, however, Leah started drilling me about my siblings and why I like baseball so much, and where I live since she knew this condo wasn’t my primary residence. I told her my company is named BanditFX after the beagle I had as a kid. She told me daisies were her favorite flower and that she grew up on Renfield drive, hence the name Daisy Ren. The night flew by and we crashed sometime around six in the morning.

Then she ghosted while I was in the shower.

I can’t say I blame her, but fuck if it didn’t hurt. For the rest of the day, I was in the worst mood and had to suffer through three online meetings and an annoying dinner with the “pretentious posse”—aptly named because it was my brother Jackson and his nosebleed buddy who thought they could weasel their way into my good graces.

They didn’t.

I’ve spent the majority of my days and nights thinking of Leah.

Leah, Leah, Leah. This woman is slowly taking over every brain cell I have.

As I drive away from the café, my stomach drops. Getting into a relationship with her will cause trouble—with my family, with her job, with the media. I should take her ghosting me as a sign. Maybe I freaked her out. Maybe I went overboard the other night, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to give her the best of me, even if it was just for one night.

Leah vanishing while I was in the shower was a smack in the face. A reminder that we aren’t on the same playing field. Hell, we aren’t even playing the same game if she can reject me so fast.