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My heart turns over in my chest. ‘What are you suggesting?’
‘A million-dollar donation to Chance. For a name.’
My sharp intake of breath is involuntary. It takes me several seconds to process this. My fingers tremble. I curve them around the water glass and sip, needing to process this.
‘A million dollars.’ He’s found his way to my Achilles heel and I’m sure he knows it.
Because I make it a policy of taking whatever I can for the charity. Even my parents’ donations, when I have mostly wanted to tell them to go to hell and take their ‘too little, too late’ conscience-pricking gifts with them.
I take everything that’s offered because I know the charity is now the wall that stands between life and death for so many helpless, impoverished children out there.
‘For a name,’ he murmurs, his hands in his pockets as he watches me intently.
‘Who is she?’
‘I only know that she’s single,’ he says with a grimace that signals frustration.
‘That probably accounts for seventy-
five per cent of our female membership.’
He scowls at me. It shouldn’t be hot but it is.
‘We exchanged messages. She’s deleted them, and disappeared off the forums.’
I can’t tell him the truth. But that doesn’t stop me from asking, ‘Why do you want to find her?’
He stares at me for several long seconds, a muscle twisting in the base of his jaw. ‘It’s personal.’
I dip my head forward, trying to slow my breathing, hoping my cheeks won’t be too pink. ‘So is the member’s information. If you want me to look into our records and find out who she is, then I’ll need more to go on.’
His eyes stick to me for a long time and I want to rip off my glasses so I can look him right in the eyes. I want to rip his clothes off. I want to fuck him right here.
Oh, my God.
What’s happening to me? I’ve been single for four years and it never bothered me, but now I can’t be in the same room with a man without wanting to leap into bed. Not bed. Desk. Floor. Window. And not a man. This man.
‘Fine,’ he grunts. ‘We spent time together in the Intimate Rooms.’
There’s a part of me that deeply appreciates his discretion, even though he doesn’t know I’m Miss Anonymous. I’m glad he’s not going into all the sordid details of what we shared. I appreciate that he’s respecting our privacy.
‘That’s what the rooms are for.’
‘I’d like to see her again.’
The room is suddenly a void, as if a black hole has opened up and swallowed us. The atmosphere grows thick, the air is heavy in my chest. Everything’s different.
‘Why?’
His eyes explode with strength. ‘That is also personal.’
I swallow, desire unfurling in my gut like a slow-slithering snake. I want him. I want him so badly. But that’s crazy. I don’t do relationships, and I particularly don’t do relationships with men like this. Entitled, wealthy, spoiled, arrogant.
Even when they’re savant-like in bed.
I clench my hand into a fist to ball up my own temptations.
I have to get rid of him before I do something really stupid. Like giving in to this.
