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She stood, tossed the contract on the table, and went to leave. Fuck him, and fuck this job.
“I didn’t take you for the drama kind of woman, Sorcha.”
She looked over her shoulder at him, felt her face heat because he was so fucking calm, and turned to face him again. “I’m not doing drama, Mr. Hartford. In fact, I am doing the opposite of what I really want to do, which is reach across this table and slap your face.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in amusement, and she curled her nails into her palms hard enough that she wouldn’t be surprised if she broke skin. “Why not just ask one of the many women you’ve slept with to do this? Lord knows you wouldn’t have to pay them a thing to be in your bed.” God, she felt sick, like trashy and worthless because this man was trying to have her sign a contract where she would be selling her body for a specific amount of time.
“Sit down, Sorcha, and let me explain.” He hadn’t moved from his position, but she actually found herself gripping the back of the chair and moving around it to sit down. If nothing else she wanted to hear why he would even think she’d be up for something like this, and why he wanted her out of all people. “I could have many women in my bed, and certainly wouldn’t have to pay them anything that wasn’t for their meal and a few glasses of wine. But that’s not what I want. What I want is you.”
“But why?” She was so fucking confused. She was far from the model type female, and those had been the women she had seen Rian Hartford with in the news and tabloids.
“Let’s put aside the fact that you could use the money, right?” he asked, and she shrugged, feeling herself like this puppet on a string, and he was the one controlling the damn thing. “I know of your money problems, but that isn’t why I chose you. You’re not a charity case, though I’m sure the thought has crossed your mind.”
She didn’t respond, because although that tiny sliver of a thought had gone though her head, her biggest one was that she wasn’t a whore that could be bought. “My body isn’t for sale, and that is what I would be doing if I signed this piece of shit.” She tossed the contract more towards his way, and this dark mask covered his face.
“Did I ever call you a whore?” he said deeply, menacingly almost. Without giving her a chance to respond he started speaking again. “If I wanted a woman that would lie back and spread her legs for me for a few hundred dollars I’d have no trouble finding one. In fact I could find one that would do it for free, Sorcha.”
“Then what? Just get on with it, because frankly I should have been long gone, not listening to this bullshit.” Fuck her hangover, and fuck him and his pompous ass that thought money could buy him whatever he wanted.
“That’s why I wanted you.”
She knitted her brows. “What?” He totally didn’t answer the question on why he wanted her specifically, and instead was being cryptic again.
“I picked you because you don’t put up with my bullshit. You do, but I can see in your face, and the way you hold yourself that the majority of the time that you want to slap me, curse at me, and quit.”
Yes, that was all true, but still it didn’t make any sense on why a man like him, so dominating in every aspect of his life, wanted a woman that was clearly not submissive in all things. She had never rolled over for a guy, and sure as hell wasn’t about to start now. Sorcha was the one to lean in now, and the table was smaller, intimate even, and so her face was pretty close to his. “I’m not just going to give you what you want, subject myself to your nasty sexual fetishes, and be your little slut for the next seven days. I may need money, but I don’t need to earn it that way.”
Before she could move he stood, and that put her right in line of view with his massive erection. She widened her eyes at the sight, but couldn’t even move as shock filled her. His dick strained against the material of his jeans, and she swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. He was … huge.
“It turns me on that you talk back, that you don’t put up with my bullshit, and it’s because of those reasons, and my own selfish desires, that make me want to have you, Sorcha.” He placed his hands flat on the table, bent at the waist, and put his face close to hers. “A part of you hates me, and rightfully so, but there is also another part of you that didn’t reject my offer outright.” He looked right in her eyes, and she got lost in the icy blue depths. “That other part is intrigued, aroused even by the thought of signing yourself away to me. Isn’t that right?” He was taunting her, mocking her and her feelings, but he didn’t know her at all, not in the six months that she had been at his beck and call.
