“Maybe I’ll stay if you ask me nicely,” she admitted with a smile.
When he grinned back at her, her heart completely stopped beating. It was a full-of-it grin, one that said “I always get my way”. It was strong and arrogant and nonetheless beautiful to her. “I know how to convince a woman to do what I say,” he said with pure male pride.
“Really?” She arched her brows in disbelief. From what she’d heard him tell Miranda MacFadden, and knowing he sent someone else to buy his gifts, she didn’t believe Holden actually knew much about courting a woman. Not that he’d need to court one—Lucy was sure they probably lined up in his office and knelt at his feet when it was their turn.
“Sit and wait,” he suddenly ordered.
He was in his pants within seconds and just as quickly she found herself alone in his bedroom, plopping down on the edge of the bed with nothing else to do but wonder. And smile. Lot of smiling. What did that devilish man intend? Roses, perhaps? Wine? Dinner in bed, maybe? She tried to act calm and collected and dearly hoped he didn’t notice the way her pulse quickened when he strode into the room once again, holding two boxes in his arms, one slightly bigger than the other. He set the smaller one on the nightstand and ceremoniously handed her the bigger one. Her breath deserted her completely.
Staring at the top of the gray box, she ran her finger over the glinting silver logo of Saks Fifth Avenue. Her heart contracted while she mentally pleaded, don’t let this be what I think.
She held her breath and pulled the ribbon. Once it came undone, she removed the top of the box—and there it was, making her heart stop. The gorgeous, coveted Balenciaga bag—only the most frequently featured bag in every magazine in the world for the past few years. It was beautiful and unexpected and yet it made her feel…horrible.
“Holden, I don’t need this,” she whispered, looking up at him seriously. “Is this why you arrived so late, you were buying me this?”
Though his smile didn’t falter, he eyed her warily, as if he knew he was now treading on dangerous territory. “No. I asked my mother to help me find something you’d like—she picked it for you. She told me you’d like it.”
Although she’d somehow known this would be his answer it still hurt, and her face paled to a sickly white at his words. She dropped her eyes and stared unseeingly down at the open box, saying, “Oh.”
Of course, what did she expect? Since she was his assistant and couldn’t help him out on this occasion, he’d sent his mother instead. It was perfectly convenient. Perfectly Holden, who couldn’t spare the precious few minutes to choose something for a woman himself—and Lucy was no different than the others.
“Hey,” he said in puzzlement, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forcing her to meet his gaze. When he looked into her eyes, his smile completely vanished. “You don’t like it,” he said flatly.
“Oh no, I love it. I just…can’t accept it.”
Not if he’d bought it, and not if his mom had bought it. It made no difference, she realized. Accepting the gift would feel like payment for services rendered, as if she were getting a bonus for having slept with him—and she wasn’t a whore.
“Why not?”
Gone was the smiling, tender man of a few seconds ago. She watched the transformation, saw the glint in his eyes fade, his lips resume a straight, tense position, saw his jaw stiffen and square. He dropped his hand to his side. “Why not, Lucy?”
“Because it’ll make me feel like a slut!” she finally cried, rising from the bed and clenching her fists to her sides. “I don’t need payment for sleeping with you, Holden.”
“It’s not a payment for sleeping with me, it’s a frigging present!”
“What for?”
He took a precious long time in replying. She pursed her lips in distaste when she realized he couldn’t even find another valid reason for giving her this bag. No matter how precious this beauty had been to her, she wouldn’t accept it and sell herself, not for this bag, not for anything.
Finally he said, “I don’t know what for, because women like it!”
“Really? Well I don’t know a single woman who appreciates a man who sends out someone else to buy his presents!”
A hellish moment later, he said very slowly, “So…that’s what it’s all about. My mother.” He looked enlightened at this discovery.
“No. It’s not your mother. In fact, I like your mother very much. It’s you, Holden. You may be a great investor, but when it comes to women, you know zip!”
He laughed, the horrible sound ringing in her ears. It was a dry, rusted sound, full of sarcasm. “Funny, you don’t say that when I’m screwing your brains out.”
“I’m glad your dirty talk makes you feel better, because right now my hands are aching to slap you and that would make me feel much better too!”
He inched his face closer, his jaw set tight, the look in his eyes wild. “Do it, Lucy. Slap me.”
She sank her nails into her palms to keep from doing so, and instead glowered at him, not even bothering to hide her rage. She was furious at him, but furious at herself too—for letting herself care. For getting involved with her boss. For complicating her already-difficult career goals. And for putting her heart at risk—a heart she had never known to be as vulnerable as it was right now, on the brink of shattering to pieces.
“Slap me, Lucy!” he ordered furiously.
Suddenly she felt weak and hunched her shoulders in defeat when she realized this was useless.