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Her laugh was bitter, yet the lilting sound tightened my balls. “Well, since you asked oh-so nicely, I’ve had several interviews this week and every time I was treated like shit.”
“You went to an interview dressed like that?”
“Oh, please.” She acted offended then pressed her hand against her leg, but the way she was tapping her foot on the floorboard meant she was nervous. I couldn’t blame her. “Every interview required me to put on a costume, parading myself like some whore. I’m not a whore. I just… I just need a job. No one will give me a chance.”
Sighing, I tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t cause her to lash out as she’d done before. “What kind of job?”
“Cocktail waitress. A lousy fucking cocktail waitress job and I’ve been told I’m fat and ugly.”
“Whoa. Hold on. Some asshole said that to you?”
“Not in so many words, but several pompous men implied it. They sat in their expensive suits and their TAG Heuer watches, their manicured nails screaming they’d never done a hard day’s labor in their precious lives, watching me walk in front of them like a trained seal.”
As I headed onto the freeway, I shook my head, anger furrowing inside. Miami was a tough town, especially for a young girl as beautiful as she was. Granted, there were thousands of gorgeous women, but so many were created by wealthy surgeons. This girl was the real deal, innocent and vulnerable. Shit. I had to get my mind out of the gutter. I was furious she’d been treated with such disrespect, but I knew far too many men exactly as she described. Hell, the majority of members of my exclusive club could be shoved into the same category.
“Why move to Miami if you hate it so much?”
Snorting, she immediately pressed her hand against her lips, unable to keep from laughing. “I’m sorry. I make noises when I’m nervous.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about, except your ridiculous behavior,” I told her, the twitch in my cock because of her anxiousness.
“Funny. You’re a real comedian.” She shook her head several times. “My parents are going through a nasty divorce. I couldn’t take their constant bickering. Plus, they kicked me out of the house. My cousin offered me a chance to get away even for a few months. I thought a change of scenery would do me some good. I’m staying with her until I get settled, although at this rate, I might be forced to return home. I don’t like failure. But that’s what I feel like. One big, fat failure. At least I regrouped and told the last group of pigs off. I stood right in front of them and told them exactly what I thought about them and their interview.”
Whew. This girl had balls, her chutzpa not only keeping me intrigued but aroused as well. “What exactly did you tell them?”
“That the reason they were acting like dicks was to compensate for their itsy-bitsy cocks and that they could shove their interview up their tight butts.”
Jesus. Christ. The girl’s mouth was going to get her into a hell of a lot of trouble. By the flicker in her eyes, I could tell how much their comments had hurt and embarrassed her. Men were pigs. What the girl needed other than discipline was someone who could help her see how special she was.
“Alexandra. I realize you don’t know me and have every right to be afraid of sitting next to a stranger in a city that hasn’t welcomed you like they should with open arms, but you need to listen to me. You are not a failure. You’re also not fat and ugly. In fact, you’re probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. You can do anything you want with your life. Never allow anyone to take that away from you, especially pompous men who treat women like possessions. Do you understand?”
The silence prickled my senses. I casually glanced over my shoulder. Seeing a shimmer of tears in her eyes pulled at the protector inside of me. She wasn’t used to praise, only condemnation. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to be the controlling, nurturing factor in her life, a man who could guide the budding flower into its moment of brilliance.
I wanted to be the man who provided her with compliments when applicable, discipline when necessary, and the man she’d eventually call Master.
CHAPTER3
Alexandra
Tears.
I had freaking tears in my eyes. I never cried. Not for anything or anyone. Well, maybe once or twice from sad movies, but certainly not from some hulking mass of gorgeousness praising me when he didn’t even know me.
But after all the words that had hurt me so deeply, to hear a stranger complimenting me with feeling behind his statement, I was in a mild state of shock. A lump had formed in my throat, butterflies in my stomach, but worse than that was the wetness between my legs. As crazy as it was, I wanted to please him, as if that was the only thing in my life that mattered.
My throat was so dry I had difficulty breathing. Even as I tried to look away, I couldn’t. My head and body were frozen on the spot as his kind words reverberated throughout my system.
Along with explosive heat.
The chemistry I felt with the stranger was bizarre, initially uncomfortable, but at this moment it felt right. “Thank you.” I wasn’t entirely certain he heard me, the hoarse whimper I issued unrecognizable to myself. The wretched long days had put me on edge, memories of the real reason I’d run far away from home lingering in the back of my mind like a tight vise that would one day strangle me. I was overwrought, the emotional rollercoaster I’d been through the last few weeks taking an ugly toll.
I’d thought moving away from the harsh realities would not only do my aching heart some good, but would be easy as well. I’d been wrong, so very wrong.
As I dragged my tongue across my lips, I allowed another salacious study of his muscular physique. The stubble attached to his chiseled chin was groomed, adding to his utter dominance. While others might think the man imposing, there was a distinct light in his eyes, a hint of amusement that suggested a complex layering of control and playfulness.
No man was supposed to be so good looking, every muscle carved from the finest stone, and hands that could crush someone easily. He had to be at least six foot five, dwarfing me easily. I’d felt protected, cared for even while the police officer had taken my statement. Wow. What was I thinking?
“I meant it.”
