Forbidden Cravings
Chapter 121: Talk to Jonathan ll

Chapter 121: Talk to Jonathan ll

"Did you..." he said, pausing for effect, his eyes dancing, his question hanging, "Fall for her... after fucking her?"

I froze, my breath catching, my face flushing, the memory of Elizabeth’s body, her moans, her dominance in the red room crashing back.

"What? No!" I said, my face twisting in disgust and awkwardness, my voice sharp, my hands gripping the chair arms. "Why would I?" My cheeks burned, the idea absurd, Elizabeth’s commanding presence in the red room a storm I’d survived, not a romance.

Jonathan coughed, leaning back, his hands raising in mock surrender, his grin fading slightly, "Just asking," he said, his voice light, teasing, his eyes still dancing, the red room’s heat a joke he couldn’t resist.

"Oh, come on, Jonathan," I said, folding my arms firmly, my voice steady, my brow furrowing. "I already have someone I love. Her name’s Aeri, okay? And not Elizabeth or anyone random." I leaned forward, my eyes locked on his, my words clear, Aeri’s bright smile flashing in my mind, her gentle voice a balm, my love for Aeri a truth that held me and my life together.

"Okay, if you say so," Jonathan said, his voice neutral, leaning back on the desk, his hands setting the papers in front of him still but his eyes still curious.

"And no, just because I gave her my number doesn’t mean I’m meeting her in private," I said, my voice firm, pulling the paper from my pocket, the scrawled digits glaring, the sunlight glowing, the office tense, the air heavy.

"Not happening, sorry." I tore the paper into pieces, the sound sharp, and tossed them into the dustbin by the desk, the scraps fluttering, Elizabeth’s interest a line I wouldn’t cross.

"Whaaaaaa—" Jonathan’s mouth dropped, his eyes widening, his hands shooting up. "You really threw away the First Lady’s number? That could’ve been useful, you know, for a police case or a traffic ticket." His voice was incredulous, his grin returning, the red room’s heat a missed opportunity in his eyes, his shock half-serious, half-teasing.

"Don’t want it, thank you," I said, sighing, closing my eyes, my voice calm, my hands resting on my knees "I can take care of myself." My tone was final, Elizabeth’s authority a moment of weakness I’d overcome.

"Damn," Jonathan said, laughing, his voice booming, leaning back, his hands slapping the desk. "Hehehe, Mr. Popular Ezra, every woman’s dream man. Even the First Lady wants him," he said, his tone teasing, his eyes crinkling, the red room’s heat a joke he loved, the brothel’s morning a playground.

"Yeah, yeah, make fun of me for all I care, Hmph.." I said, pouting, my voice mock-grumpy, my arms crossing tighter, Elizabeth’s number gone into dustbin now.

"Ehe, calm down, sweetheart," Jonathan said, patting my shoulders, his hands warm, his voice soft, his grin fading into a friendly smile, his words a peace offering, I am just joking, obviously." he added, his eyes warm, his pat a reminder of our friendship, the morning easing, the work shared.

I sighhed, my shoulders relaxing, the tension draining, my pout softening.

"Anyways," Jonathan said, pulling his hands back, his voice shifting to business, reaching for a drawer, the wood scraping as he opened it, the sunlight glowing.

He pulled out a slip, a paycheck, its edges crisp, and handed it to me, his grin returning, softer now. "Here’s your paycheck for all the hard work you did yesterday," he said, his voice warm, his gesture a nod to the night’s grind, the red room’s heat a job well done.

"Thank you so much," I said, taking the slip, my voice calm, a long exhale escaping me, my fingers brushing the paper, the paycheck a tangible reward for all my hard work I do here.

I slipped the paycheck into my pocket without checking it, the paper crinkling, my trust in Jonathan absolute. We’d worked together for years, friends through the brothel’s grind, his loyalty as solid as mine. He’d never betray me, and I’d never cross him—our bond was a rare constant in this chaotic world.

"So, you have to be somewhere by evening..? you were talking about?" Jonathan asked, his voice casual, leaning forward, his hands folding on the desk, the papers still, the sunlight soft, the office calm, the air heavy. His eyes met mine, curious but relaxed, the red room’s heat a topic we’d left behind.

"Yeah, a marriage ceremony for Aeri’s best friend," I said, my voice calm, a faint smile breaking through, the thought of Aeri warming me, her bright smile flashing in my mind, her gentle presence a balm against the weight of Sara’s wedding, the blackmail a chain I’d soon break.

"Oh, I see. Enjoy your time," Jonathan said, his voice warm, his grin returning, softer now, leaning back, his hands resting on his knees, his words were genuine, his care a constant.

"Gonna be a fancy one, huh? All those wedding bells and cake," he added, his tone teasing, his eyes searching for answers.

"Hope so," I said, chuckling, my voice light, my hands in my pockets, the paycheck crinkling. "You too. Try to finish that before the income tax officers barge in," I said, teasing, nodding at the mountain of papers on his desk, my grin widening.

"Oh, shut up, bro," Jonathan said, laughing, his voice booming, his hand waving dismissively, the papers shifting slightly, the sunlight soft, the office alive, the air heavy. "I’ll be done with this by tomorrow," he said, his grin wide, his eyes dancing around to excuse himself, his confidence bold but shaky, his habit of procrastinating a running joke.

"Hope so," I said, laughing, my voice warm, leaning back in the chair, the creak loud, my smile teasing, knowing how often he pushed deadlines, our laughter a shared ease, the day moving forward. "Don’t let those tax guys catch you slipping, man," I added, my tone playful, my hands waving in the air, my words a gentle nudge.

"Well, then, I should leave now," I said, standing up, my chair scraping the carpet, my voice calm, my hands in my pockets.

"Take care," I said, my eyes meeting his, my nod genuine.

"You too, Ezra," Jonathan said, his voice warm, leaning back on the desk, his grin steady, his hands folding the papers.