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“Jeez, you think?”
“I’ve been your best friend since kindergarten and I’ve tried my best to teach you the ways of the world but you’re still so sweet and innocent. A rich man sets you up in his hotel suite for free. He doesn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart. Trust me.”
“I didn’t think of that. I was too busy thinking about the men he killed right in front of me.”
“Sounds like he did you a favor. Hell, make the most of it, girl. Turn him into your sugar daddy. Milk him like a cash cow. Get yourself richer than, well, a very rich thing.” I can almost see the grin on her face. “Kerching.”
“I doubt I’m his type.” I can’t shake the fear that my fuller figure might not be what he’s accustomed to, or even wants.
The thought of undressing, of revealing myself fully, brings a flush of anxiety. Not because I’m ashamed of my body, but because I don’t know if he can see beauty in my curves.
The moment I saw him, things happened to me that have never happened before. Even with all the violence, I couldn’t stop thinking how handsome he looked.
I let out a sigh. “It’s not about the money. I just want to feel safe, you know?” My gaze drifts to the city below, the vast expanse echoing the emptiness I feel. “I don’t know if I want to go home after what happened.”
“So stay in the suite for a while. Let him pick up the tab. Hell, the way you describe him, why not let his royal gorgeousness take that V-card of yours and stick it right through his shredder.”
Her laughter rings through the phone, light and carefree. “Imagine that, Jess. Protection and pleasure all wrapped up in one gorgeous Italian package. Just make sure he uses protection, if you know what I mean.”
“I always know what you mean.”
The thought sends not just a rush of heat but a surge of something more profound through me.
Beyond the images of tangled sheets and whispered promises, there’s a flicker of hope, a longing for a connection that goes beyond the physical. His intensity, the protective aura he exudes, stirs something in me that feels dangerously close to love.
For a fleeting moment, I allow myself to indulge in the fantasy, the idea of surrendering to the passion and intensity I saw lurking in his eyes when he stared hungrily at me back in my kitchen.
But reality crashes straight in, not just dousing the flames of desire but igniting a fire of another kind—a deep-seated yearning for something real with him.
It’s not just his world that scares me; it’s how quickly my heart seems willing to claim him like he said he claimed me.
He’s much older, his life clearly steeped in violence and danger, a world apart from the safety I crave. “Mia, I can’t,” I murmur, the words heavy with resignation. “He’s nearly my dad’s age.”
“Your dad would never have saved you from men like that. Hell, he ran off and left you there knowing they were coming. You sure hit the jackpot when Mr. Milan walked in. Did he even say why he was there?”
“Said he wanted me, not money.”
“Well, there you go. Like I said. Ride him into the night. Use him as a human dildo. Enjoy.”
The sudden click of the door makes me jump. I startle, the phone slipping slightly as I turn to face my intruder. It’s him. Emma’s voice fades into the distance.
He stands there, framed by the doorway, his imposing figure casting a long shadow that stretches across the plush carpet. He stares at me for so long, I quail before him, feeling naked under that intense gaze.
Without a word, he suddenly strides towards me, each step measured and deliberate. His eyes, a stormy blue, lock onto mine, and I find myself unable to look away.
There’s an authority in his gaze, a silent command that speaks louder than any words could.
He reaches out, and before I can react, my phone is snatched from my hand. “We need to talk,” he states, his voice a deep rumble that resonates through the room. It’s not a suggestion; it’s an assertion, as without another glance, he ends my phone call.
“What the fuck?” I say, reaching for the phone.
He switches it off, setting it down on the bedside table. “Sit here,” he says, pointing to two huge armchairs by the window. “Now.”
I’m acutely aware of him as I move his way, of the sheer physicality he exudes. He’s dressed in a way that speaks of power, a suit that seems to absorb the light, tailored to perfection.
His hair, a dark cascade that tempts fingers to touch, to explore, frames a face that could have been chiseled from stone for all its sharp, compelling angles.
He fixes me with a look that feels like it’s peering into my soul, his eyes intense yet somehow inviting trust.
