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“I am not the marrying kind, you understand? So, I want you to move in with me for the next month,” he announced, just dropping that bomb on me like—boom!
“What?!” I screeched, dropping both mugs in my hand with two loud, messy crashes.
Tea and glass went everywhere, and Adrik cursed roundly in Russian. For a moment, I thought he was upset because I’d splashed tea on his expensive pants, then he grabbed my waist and lifted me up, sitting my stunned ass on my counter while he scrounged under the sink for some dish towels to drop on the mess.
“You must be more careful, Zaika moya. No shoes on your feet. You could be hurt,” he growled, mopping up the mess with more efficiency than I would have given a man in his position credit for.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, still too shocked to form sentences. “Did you say you want me to move in with you for a month?”
“Yes. I am a very busy man, but I am practical. I have needs, but I am in the middle of a very important negotiation. I can’t afford to spend time wooing you. Now, I happen to know you are suddenly without employment,” he said, straightening up and dropping the whole mess into the trash can, towels and all.
“I liked that daisy towel,” I muttered.
He ignored that and continued to explain his reasoning to me. I supposed I should have been flattered. But I was too shocked to appreciate the situation.
“Just like I know you are writing a novel and could use someone who has the power to whisper in the ear of the right publishing house. My proposal is you stay with me for one month, all expenses paid, including your rent, utilities, and heat,” he said, looking around dubiously. “Plus, you will have an unlimited platinum card for shopping, clothes, nails, hair whatever you want. At the end of the month, my people will arrange a meeting for you with whichever publisher you choose.”
My brain was spinning. He was like a damn devil, offering me what I wanted most of all in return for my body—or was it my soul he was really after? Of all the arrogant, half-assed—wait, what did he say? This guy knew publishers, too? That was it, the last straw that broke this fluffy camel’s back.
“Out,” I growled.
“Pardon?” he asked.
I could tell by his apparent confusion he really did not understand what was happening. So I slid off the counter where he’d placed me like I weighed next to nothing, and I pointed to the door, stomping my foot, which had no effect considering I wore socks and no shoes.
“I said get out.”
“Zaika—”
“My name is Sofia, as you somehow found out—creepy, by the way. And I don’t need your help whispering into anyone’s ears, got it? I don’t care who you know. I will publish my book based on the merits of my writing or not at all!”
Adrik looked at me, a mixture of admiration and exasperation on his face. It was the look you gave a spoiled child, or someone who did not know any better, and I found it completely demeaning.
How dare he?
“You are an innocent, Zaika moya. That is why you do not understand, it is always about who you know,” he said slowly, as if I was too dim to get what he meant.
Ooooh. That made my blood boil. And not in the happy times fun way that had occurred between us the previous night. An image of the reflection I’d seen of myself, legs on his shoulders as he ate my pussy like a starving man, in one of the ceiling to floor windows of his penthouse flashed inside my brain, and I wobbled a little on my feet. Then I narrowed my eyes at him. Why deny what happened?
“Considering I was riding your face last night like a rodeo cowgirl, I don’t think I’m all that innocent. So, fuck you very much for that indecent proposal. You can leave now.”
“But that’s just it. I can’t leave,” he growled angrily, and no, he did not look happy about it.
Wasn’t that too bad? I was pissed as well. So much so, I was vibrating with it. Smug bastard. Did he think this was Pretty Woman? Did I look like Julia fucking Roberts? For a moment, I’d actually thought he was proposing to me, when really, he was proposing I be his whore for a month.
I didn’t know why I was so disappointed. I didn’t expect the man had fallen in love with me overnight. Yeah, I mean, he looked a little nuts hunting me down the next day, but that was probably because rich men were used to getting their way. Maybe I should have been flattered. Maybe later, I would be. But I was too angry and confused, and cold to think straight.
Did he have to look so good in his exquisitely tailored coat and suit? Even cursing and pulling on his thick dark hair, he was sexy as sin. I looked down at my furry sock covered feet and closed my eyes. Him proposing to me? I must have been suffering from a senior moment to think something like that.
But really, what the heck was he thinking, finding my address, and coming here to proposition me? Poor billionaire. He’d been duped. Last night I had been in costume. Not anymore, though. Sweatpants and hoodies were my usual weekend attire. He needed someone who wore silk stockings and stilettos. That was not me. It never would be. And if I’d given him the impression I was for sale, I guess maybe I was to blame, too.
“Look, I am sorry to interrupt your tirade, but I really don’t know what to tell you, Adrik. I am not a prostitute. But I am sure someone with your connections can find one. I mean, you look like you can definitely afford to buy anyone you want. Except me. Now, goodbye,” I said stiffly.
“No.”
He shook his head, looking like a beast instead of a man as he stalked from wall to wall, wearing a path across the old carpet with his expensive shoes.
“No?”
