Bought (His For A Week)

“I don’t think there’s a sink in the basement.”

He narrowed his eyes. “The basement? Show me.”

Taking the sandwich, she got off the sofa and headed toward the staircase that would lead to the room she shared with Claire. Ben followed behind. She opened the door to the room and went to put the sandwich in her handbag. Ben looked around the room with a frown.

“Come with me. You can use my room. Grab your stuff.”

She scooped up her bag and clothing.

“That’s it? You don’t have a suitcase or anything?”

“We came straight here from the auction.”

He let out a long breath but only motioned for her to follow him.

&nb

sp; Ben’s room was the antithesis of the basement, with more floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the lake and sliding glass doors that led to the balcony, a leather settee and chaise before a fireplace, and a gorgeous mahogany, king-size, four-post bed. This was the opulence that Claire was expecting.

Ben opened his suitcase and pulled out a white t-shirt and sweats, which he tossed to her.

“You can have those for now,” he said. “The bathroom’s over there.”

Leaving the room, he closed the bedroom door behind him.

Alone, Kimani breathed in her first deep breath since arriving. The room was better than the basement. Ben was better than Jake. But she couldn’t relax completely. There was an edge to Ben, and a temper could easily lie behind his cool exterior. But so far, it seemed that things were looking up for her.

The bathroom was equally as luxurious as the bedroom with its granite counters, porcelain-tiled flooring, shower with stone tiles, and a Jacuzzi bathtub. Seeing her reflection in the mirror, Kimani was surprised at how bad she looked. There was a definite bruise on her cheek, and her hair couldn’t look worse.

Why had Ben paid two hundred thousand dollars for her? Because he hadn’t brought a sex partner of his own?

After taking one of the longest showers of her life, she pulled on his t-shirt.

“Oh my God,” she whispered at the softness of the fabric.

Passing by the bedroom door, she checked to see if it was locked. It opened. Unlike the basement door, she could lock this one from the inside. Should she lock it? Well, it would be safer if she was really going to take a nap. She didn’t want to let down her guard in a cabin full of strangers, but she needed rest if she was going to be on her toes.

After locking the door, she drew the blinds and crawled into the bed. When she closed her eyes, she kept seeing Ben. At some point, he was going to want sex. There wasn’t any other reason he would have paid a crapload of money for her. The question she had to decide was: how far was she willing to go for her story?

CHAPTER EIGHT

She had locked the bedroom door, so Ben couldn’t get in the room to change, but he didn’t let it bother him. It was probably better he had some distance from her. She had looked way too hot in his jacket, and his hands kept itching to slide under it and feel her up. Even with her stale makeup, she was pretty with those large brown eyes, thick lashes, and high cheekbones. But there was something else that drew him to her. Maybe it was the way her look shot daggers at Jake. Or maybe it was the defiant flare in her eyes.

Offering to buy her from Jake had not been in Ben’s plan. He had been prepared to suck it up and be the odd wheel with no date. But she—Slut #2, Montana, or whatever her name was—had changed everything.

He had to have her. Or, he didn’t want Jake to have her. Ben was pretty sure Jake had given her the bruise.

But now that she was his, what was he going to do with her?

Supposedly, she had signed up for a week of sex with a stranger. The logical thing would be to have sex with her, but he could tell she wasn’t comfortable with her surroundings yet. And something was off. He couldn’t tell what or why.

Heading back downstairs, he found that Jake hadn’t yet returned, so he made the calls he needed to make, including one to his uncle Gordon Lee, who was in a tight race for mayor of Oakland. Just as Ben finished up his third call, he heard the voices of men and women. Vince must have opened the door because seconds later, Derek and Jason spilled into the room. They must have been drinking on the ride up because they appeared off balance. Two giggling women followed behind them.

“Cuz, you beat us,” said Jason.

“I took the jet,” Ben replied.

“Ohhh, you have a jet?” the woman of Southeast Asian descent asked, stumbling toward him. She was as thin as a reed—maybe thinner. “Like a corporate jet or a private jet?”