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Sam, it’s Kimani. Was bid on and taken to remote lakeside cabin. Trinity County, I think. My cell was taken. I’m okay at present. Will text again.
After pressing send, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least now Sam might have a way of tracking her down if he didn’t hear from her.
“Done?”
“Yes, thanks,” she replied, handing Ben back his phone, then realized she should have deleted the text.
“So tell me about yourself,” Ben said. “All I know about you is that you play ball, don’t drink much, and have a communications degree from Stanford.”
He wanted to know about her? At least he realized she was a human and not just an object for sex.
“Not much to tell,” she answered. “You seem like a more interesting person.”
He didn’t take the bait. “I’m not that interesting.”
She shook her head. “Typical Asian modesty.”
He raised his brows, and she immediately regretted her words.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend,” she apologized. “I meant it as a compliment. It’s just that my friends at school, the Asian ones, they never bragged. My sophomore roommate was from Singapore, and every time I paid her a compliment, she would talk about how terrible she was at something. It got so I was better off criticizing her than complimenting her.”
For the first time, she thought she detected a smile tugging at one corner of his lips. It made him look irresistible, and she had to remind herself that he just might be a better form of asshole than Jake.
“While modesty is valued in my father’s culture, it’s not universal,” Ben said. “The Chinese word for China is ‘Middle Kingdom’ because China believes it is the country between heaven and earth.”
“Are you from China?” she asked. He had a hint of an accent, but it wasn’t necessarily Eastern.
“I was born there, but my father sent me to boarding school in England when I was in my teens.”
“Where’d you go to college, before Stanford that is?”
“Howard University.”
She did a double take. “Seriously? You went to Howard?”
He smiled to himself. “To be honest, I did it to piss off my dad. He wanted me to go to Harvard. So now that I’ve told you something about me, it’s your turn.”
His stare pinned her in place. She took a gulp of wine. Somehow, they had fallen into easy conversation, almost as if they were on a date.
“What—what do you want to know?”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Are you a virgin?”
“Say what?”
“I don’t have the benefit of the questionnaire you filled out for the auction.”
“Oh.”
Here it goes. The sex.
“That’s kind of a personal question,” she stalled.
“This isn’t a job interview. Or a date.”
