Page 80 of Heart Over Heels

He gaped a moment more before I stooped to grab a zippered bag of bedding and thrust it into his arms. “That’s for your room.” I nodded to the picture on the outside of the package. “Is it the right green?”

Mercer glanced at the photo then at me, and something tender overtook his face. The battle was over; a white flag had been raised.

“It’s perfect,” he said.

I bounced on my toes then scooped up a pair of table lamps and breezed past him with a grin.

“Then quit standing around, sugar baby. We’ve got work to do.”

The afternoon flew by as Mercer and I moved through the house together, unrolling rugs across bare floors, tossing pillows onto couches, and hanging art on walls. Mercer worked methodically while I flitted about, pointing out where everything belonged. Slowly, the space filled up, crowding out the emptiness one tchotchke at a time.

I saved his bedroom for last—possibly on purpose. We’d finished making the bed, and Mercer tugged the last wrinkle from the comforter just in time for me to fling myself backward onto it.

The mattress caught me with a bounce, and I spread my arms wide, grinning at the discovery that even stretched out,I couldn’t touch both sides. Luxury. At the Dollhouse, we crammed twin beds into crowded rooms. Though I did upgrade Ozzy to a California twin. That man needed every inch he could get.

While I sprawled, Mercer stood over me wearing a look caught somewhere between bemused and baffled. For the first time all day, I felt self-conscious in my Juicy tracksuit, like I was underdressed for my own show. But this was a mission of practicality before pleasure, and if my clothes were a problem, I was nothing if not skilled at getting out of them.

“You know…” Mercer cleared his throat, still studying me like he wasn’t sure what to make of the scene. “I can pay you back.”

I gasped, scandalized. “Absolutely not. As your oh-so-generous sugar daddy slash manager, I must refuse.”

Mercer chuckled before lowering himself onto the corner of the mattress. He was favoring his leg again, and I noticed his hand drifting toward it, chasing a hidden hurt.

Rolling onto my stomach, I scooted closer to him. I surveyed the faux plant on the dresser, the brass figurines gleaming on the bedside tables, and the full-length mirror stationed in the corner, then rested my chin in my hands so I could peer up at him. “You like it, though, right?”

Mercer’s gaze softened the way it had when he’d first seen the bedding. “Yeah, I like it.”

He glanced around the room, and I wondered what he thought. What he might have been too polite to say. Was he glad I’d come or did he resent the intrusion? After half a decade together, the dolls were used to me running the show both off and onstage. I wasn’t as sure about Mercer, and he might not have been as sure about me.

“You’re good at this,” he said at last. “You make people feel comfortable.”

A laugh chased my sigh of relief. “Strange praise considering how often I make you blush.”

Color splotched up his neck again, proof of my point, and he scrubbed a hand over it. “Did you do this kind of thing before? When you were…” He trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Alive?” I lifted a brow. “Human?”

He nodded, and I shook my head.

“Nothing like this,” I replied. “My life’s been a lot of the same. I’ve always been a professional.”

His forehead furrowed. “A professional?”

“A whore, Mercy.”

The word landed between us like a stone in water. Mercer absorbed it quietly then asked, “Always?”

I nodded. “I was born into it.”

The wrinkles on his face dug in deeper. “How does that work?”

“Birth control’s never been foolproof,” I replied, my tone flat and matter-of-fact. “Accidents happen. Mama made the most of it, though. She made a place for me. Madam did too.”

Mercer went a little pale, and his eyes drifted from mine. “I’m glad they were good to you,” he murmured.

I felt the need to chase his attention, so I pushed up and got my legs under me. Creeping forward again, I found a new seat beside him on the edge of the bed.

“The patrons were good to me too,” I added, but the reassurance was hobbled by the truth that tumbled out after. “Most of them, anyway.”