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My eyes fly open and I stare at her, unsure if I’m happy she just said that. “Why?” That isn’t what I expected to say but it’s the first thought that came to my mind.
“I need the money.” She says it in one rushed word, her shoulders sagging after like she’s been holding it in.
I step back from her, a wave of relief washing over me as the words finally hit me. “You will? You’ll do it?”
She nods. “Yes. But for five million.” She flinches and I’m sure she’s expecting me to counter, but I don’t.
“Done.” I thrust my hand toward her, but she steps toward me, throwing her arms around my neck.
“Thank you,” she says through an almost muffled cry. “Thank you.”
When she finally releases me, we both take a seat on the main stairs. “What made you change your mind?” I ask, fishing for an answer when I already know it. But to my surprise, she doesn’t say anything about the club or losing her job.
“I dunno, common sense maybe?” She laughs. “I guess I realized how stupid it was to walk away from an opportunity like this. It’s not like people like me are offered millions of dollars very often and it’s probably my only chance at ever actually achieving that kind of wealth.”
“That is a pretty valid reason. Although…” I hesitate, questioning if I should express a question of doubt.
“Yes?”
“Well, you seemed pretty adamant that it went against your morality and who you are as a person. I’d hate for you to resent me the entire time and grow to hate your life.”
She shrugs. “Who can afford to have morals these days?” She jokes, laughing. “The reality is, I just have to put myself aside for a year so that I can fulfill some future dreams. I can do that.”
“Good.” I smile and look over at her. She’s still barefoot, her shoes on the floor next to her along with her purse. She rests her elbow on her knee, her chin propped on the heel of her hand. “What has you all dressed up tonight?” I nod toward her dress.
“Oh.” She looks down at herself. “Yeah, I guess it’s a far cry from my usual coffee-stained blue polo and jeans.” She smiles again and I’m waiting on her to tell me about the club, but again, she avoids it. “A date. A date that wasn’t successful obviously.”
“And what makes a date unsuccessful?” I pry, not sure where I’m wanting this conversation to go. A curious feeling settles in my stomach at the thought of her on a date. Not jealousy, but discomfort perhaps.
“I guess the fact I’m sitting in your house right now and not his?”
“His loss is my gain.” I wink and she laughs, but I want to know what it’s hiding. Maybe there’s more to Stella Porter than I realize, more than my last several months of research didn’t reveal. “You sure you’re ready for it to be your last date for the next year?”
She sighs. “Wow, guess I hadn’t thought about that part of it yet. We won’t go on any dates?” she asks, somewhat hopeful.
“I’m sure we will, work-related and whatnot. I just meant legitimate dates. Ones that might end more… successfully.” I look over at her as a heavy silence settles between us that’s slowly turning into tension again.
“So, soon-to-be hubby”—she gives me a coy grin, bumping my shoulder—“now what?”
I shake my head. “Not that,” I say in a low, almost growl. I don’t know if that’s what she was insinuating, but it’s exactly where my brain and cock are right now. I actually feel my face flush and I turn away, hoping she doesn’t notice.
“Looks like that’s where your mind is.” She giggles and when I just shake my head, she bumps me again. “Even though we are definitely not each other’s type and you have zero desire for a sexual relationship.” She partially repeats back to me what I’d told her when I offered her this position. At the time, I was hoping it was true for her; it would make it easier on me if I knew she had no attraction to me. I, however, was a lost cause the second I saw her. Any man with half his eyesight would be slack-jawed at the sight of Stella Porter. Mysterious dark-green eyes and even darker hair with a perfect little heart-shaped pout and full hips and thighs.
“We both know that was bullshit.” I roll my eyes and she laughs.
“I’m just surprised you actually admitted it.” She’s teasing me, flirting, and it feels good. So I do it back.
“I wouldn’t say I admitted anything—technically.” There’s a flutter in my lower belly, a curiosity that, if I’m not careful, could turn into a longing before I even realize it.
You’re playing with fire.
“Fine, Mr. Atlas Knight, do you swear under oath that you knowingly lied to me about being attracted to me and told me you didn’t want a physical relationship with me so that I’d say yes?”
“I plead the fifth,” I say, humoring her, hoping it puts an end to the conversation I shouldn’t have started.
“You’re no fun.” She pouts, reaching for my wrist. “What time is it?” I observe her as she holds on to my arm, reading the time on my watch.
I tell myself I don’t know why I do it, but I do it to try and scare her. To make her see that I don’t want a physical relationship. What I fantasize about with her is far more raw and primal.
