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If we are to be enemies, why spoil this moment with the truth? We’re getting on really well on the surface of things. Besides, deep down I’m a people-pleaser. I hate that about myself, but it’s true. If this incredibly sexy man wants to temporarily postpone our mutual hatred, I’m all for it. Just for a few hours, until we’ll both be forced back to reality.
“Let’s forget about who we are for this evening, and just enjoy each other’s company.”
Oh my god. That voice. Those words. His phrase enjoy each other’s company vibrates inside me. My pelvic floor spontaneously tightens. No human has ever made my body react like this before. It’s like I’m buzzing just because of my proximity to him.
“You mean you don’t want to hear all about me and the story of my life?”
“To the contrary,” he replies. “I want to know everything about you.”
“But?”
“But … in order for us to get along for the night…” There’s that thrill again. “I think it would be best to keep our darkest secrets to ourselves.”
I feel a little shiver. I pause, pretending to consider his proposal. “Deal.”
He blinks at me in what I take to be surprise, then quickly neutralizes his expression. “Excellent.”
Excellent, indeed. I wouldn’t have to tell him about Jeff, or the fact that I hated that the hotel room we were staying in was the very epitome of conspicuous consumption. A microcosm of the kind of sheer excess that was destroying the environment. The litter of pillows on the bed alone should come with a health warning: May cause guilt-induced insomnia due to sweatshop origin. Synthetic stuffing is likely to end up in the ocean and choke a sea turtle.
And he wouldn’t have to tell me that he was part of the Ravenscroft family, the very enterprise I had been picketing against for their environmental sins; the empire notorious for not taking responsibility for any of their crimes against nature.
“Do you do this … often?” I ask, struggling to get the words out. “Pick up injured girls and take them to a posh hotel?”
He laughs. It’s genuine, and it makes me smile.
Shaking his head, he says, “No. I can honestly say that this is the very first time I have ever done anything like this.”
“I see.” Was I flirting now? Oh my god. “So, then, you’re just naturally … spontaneous?”
He laughs again. He’s still sitting on the chaise, and I feel like we could just stay like this and chat all night. He’s surprisingly good company for an obscenely wealthy man.
“No,” he says again. “I’m the opposite of spontaneous. I plan everything down to the last detail.”
The way he says the last bit makes me squirm. Was that a red flag? Did he just tell me that this whole thing was planned? Oh, shit. Have I been kidnapped?
I surreptitiously look at the door to see if it’s been bolted. It hasn’t. Instead, the bedroom door, slightly ajar, leads to another room. Of course this isn’t a hotel room, it’s a full-on suite.
He sees my eyes travel and hurries to reassure me. “Except this,” he says. “I didn’t plan this. Scout’s honor.”
“So … I’m free to go at any time?” I venture.
“Yes!” he exclaims, sweeping his fingers through his dark hair. “Of course, yes. Any time. Just walk out the door.” We lock eyes for a moment. “But … I’d prefer you to stay.”
The energy between us calms to a subtle zing. Being around a god isn’t easy on the body; I haven’t been able to relax since I set eyes on him. I don’t think I’ve taken a full breath since waking up. I try to will my body to calm the fuck down.
“So then … what do you have in mind?” I ask. “What does enjoying each other’s company mean to you?”
Still zinging. Still warm inside.
He looks pleased that I’m considering staying. After all, it’s the responsible thing to do if there is a possibility of concussion. Going back to my own place and sleeping there alone would be risky. Right?
“Well, if you weren’t … injured, the plan would be very different.” There’s a glint in his eyes that I know means sex. Definitely sex. Holy shit. I need to slow my breathing so that he doesn’t notice me fidgeting. I cannot have sex with this man. If I feel this way just sitting in a room with him … I can’t imagine having actual sex. With that kind of sensual energy radiating from him, I suspect that if he so much as touches me in the right place I’ll spontaneously combust.
Still, I can’t help myself. “What would the plan be?”
“It would depend on what you like to do. What you like to eat, how you prefer to travel.”
Ah. I know this movie. The rakish billionaire takes the naïve girl to dinner in his chopper. She’s so wowed by the flight, the skyline, the oysters and bottle of Cristal that she transfers that awe and wonder to the man and falls head over heels in love with him. After the wedding she realizes that he’s actually just a regular uber-rich asshole with a ton of mistresses and she emotionally leaves the relationship, although she can’t physically leave for various complicated reasons, and ends up having an affair with the pool guy, because at least he’s authentic, asks her how her day was, and knows how to make her come.
