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“You make me curious, Melissa. I haven’t felt curious about a woman in…well, ever.”
“Is it just that you’re not used to a woman turning you down? Did I damage your ego last night?”
I smile, give her a wink. If this is how she wants to play it, I’ll play.
“Maybe I just want to lick your pretty little pussy so I can hear you come again.”
She slaps both hands against my chest. “Get out.”
“So no, no damaged ego,” I continue, ignoring her.
“I said get out.”
I take her wrists, circle her arms down to her sides and keep her close. “No.”
“This isn’t your club. You’re in my house. No auction blocks to humiliate me on!” She struggles to free herself, but I hold tight.
“No block. No auction. I don’t intend on selling you.”
“Do you even hear what you sound like?”
“I want what I want and what I want is you.”
“And I bet you’re used to getting everything you want exactly how you want it.”
I move her arms behind her back and pull her close enough that our bodies are touching. Her pupils dilate and I wonder if it’s fear or arousal. Probably a combination of both. Although the hardening of her nipples through the thin fabric of her T-shirt tells me it may be the latter.
I put my nose to her hair, inhale. She smells like me, like my shampoo. I like my smell on her.
“Don’t be so quick to turn it down. Like I said, this will be beneficial to both of us and I don’t just mean the financial benefit to you.”
“What does that even mean?” She shakes her head. “No, it doesn’t matter. I don’t…This is crazy. Just…get out.” She twists her wrists, but I transfer both into one of my hands and with the other, I tilt her face upward.
“I want you in my bed and I think you want to be there.”
“Has this approach ever worked on any woman ever?”
“I’ve never tried it before.”
Her eyes search mine.
“I’m not a whore.” Her face crumples and I see tears well in those unbelievable eyes.
“You’re the farthest thing from a whore, Melissa.”
“I don’t even know your last name.”
“MacLeod.”
“That’s not…what I meant is—”
My phone vibrates with a message. Without releasing her, I reach into my pocket and take it out to read the text on the screen:
“One share left, then you’ll have control.”
I want to smile, but what I’m doing, it doesn’t make me happy. It never has.
“What happened to dinner and a movie?” Melissa asks as I tuck my phone back into my pocket without replying.
“I don’t do relationships,” I say, hearing the coldness in my voice as I release her.
“I didn’t mean to infer I wanted a date,” she says, rubbing her wrists. The blush on her face tells me she’s embarrassed.
“I just want to be clear. This will be a business transaction. That’s all.”
“I haven’t even said yes.”
“You also haven’t said no and I’m a cup-half-full kind of guy. I’ll be back for your answer tomorrow night, Melissa.”
I walk to the door.
“You’re assuming I’m going to agree to this insane proposal.”
I just give her a wide, confident smile. “I know you are. These next twenty-four hours are a courtesy so you can wrap your brain around the fact that you will say yes.”
Her mouth falls open but she has no reply.
“Pack essentials,” I tell her. “You’ll be staying at the penthouse.”
“You’re wrong. You don’t know me.”
“I’m rarely wrong about people.” I open the door. “Good night, Melissa.”
I walk outside, take three steps toward the waiting sedan before she calls my name. I stop, turn back to her.
She pivots, bites her lip and the look on her face tells me she’s considering whether or not to speak.
“Liza,” she finally says. “Do you know where they moved her?”
I’m surprised by her question and he fact that she can’t hold eye contact tells me she’s hiding something.
Or hiding from something.
I give her a long look. “Are you going to pay her a visit? I didn’t think you two had contact anymore.”
I remain silent, keep my gaze level.
She doesn’t reply.
“Brewster Clinic. Sean Boyd took her this morning.”
Panic flashes across her eyes, just momentarily, just long enough for me to catch it before she schools her features.
“Anything else?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
I give her one more long look before resuming my walk to the car, taking my phone out of my pocket to get the details on that text.
8
Melissa
I watch him from behind the curtains of the window.
Is this even real? Did he just offer me a million dollars to sleep with him? To be his for one month?
No. This makes no sense. Not after last night.
I wonder if this is some sort of personal challenge. Maybe his ego can’t take a woman not panting for him in his bed.
The sedan disappears and I flip the single lock that still works on the front door. I go upstairs and look at my room, at the half-packed duffel, the clothes strewn here and there.
