“I understand your predicament.”
“What about it?”
“You looked into me.” His voice shifts. A firmer tone. More business.
I nod. “I didn’t hire a PI or anything, but I did some digging.”
“It’s amazing, how much information is easy to find. If you do hire an investigator, I’m sure you’ll find things that unsettle you. There’s plenty in my past.” He folds one leg over the other. Leans back into the couch. “I won’t mince words. I know you’re broke. I know your sister spent time in an inpatient facility—”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Maybe. If you ask, I won’t look further. But no crying over spilled milk.”
Easy for him to say.
“You’re a strong girl, Eve. I can tell. I don’t want you to waste your potential serving pissed arseholes for the next decade.”
“It’s my potential.”
“You’re right. Your potential. None of my business. But I assume you’re here to negotiate a price. Not lecture me on paternalism.”
Damn, is he reading my mind? I have no comeback for that.
I want to lecture him for acting like my goddamn father… but I am here to negotiate. I can deal with a bossy know-it-all if he covers our expenses.
Deep breath. Slow exhale. Utmost confidence. “You still haven’t told me what you want.”
He reaches for his glass. “I want you. For one month.” He takes a long sip. “For thirty days, you’ll be mine. To use however I see fit. At the end, we say goodbye, we part, we never see each other again.”
Okay… “What if I want to see you again?”
“Are you getting into tech?”
“Maybe.”
“Then you will. I’m not going to banish you to another state.”
“Thank God. I can’t move to Jersey.” The joke fails to lighten the mood.
He smiles anyway. “I won’t ask you to leave the city. It’s more that… once our arrangement ends, it ends. No friendship or booty calls or future help.”
“Booty calls?”
“Do you have a new term for it? What were people saying? Netflix and chill?”
My laugh dissolves the tension in my chest. Ian Hunt saying Netflix and chill. It’s absurd. And incredibly hot.
My body screams yes, yes, yes. More, more, more.
It overwhelms every thought in my brain. It’s too hard to think around him. How am I supposed to negotiate intelligently?
“We still say booty calls,” I say.
“I want to make that clear.” His voice firms. “Once it’s over, it’s over.”
“What if I don’t want it to be over?”
“It’s still over.” His posture goes with his voice. Intense stare. Squared shoulders. All that presence.
I swallow hard. “What if you don’t want it to be over?”
“That won’t happen.”
Okay… “What if it does?”
His brow furrows. His jaw cricks. For a second. Then he’s back to the soft poker face. “It’s never happened before.”
“How many women have you… done this with?”
“Enough.”
That’s not really an answer. But I guess it doesn’t matter. What’s the difference if he’s done this with one woman or a hundred? It’s not like I’m going to say no, I won’t take six figures because you’re too big a slut. As long as he’s safe… that’s all that matters. “Other virgins?”
“Yes.”
“But you’ve never paid before?”
“Sometimes, I leave parting gifts,” he says. “No, always. But sometimes they’re small. A set of lingerie or a toy. Other times—” He sets his glass on the table. “A semester of tuition. A trip to Paris. It was mine. But I didn’t feel right taking it when she was… inconsolable.”
“You’re that irresistible?” I bite my lip. That doesn’t matter. And it’s not a risk. My heart? Still ice. Ian Hunt isn’t melting it. Even if he already sets me on fire.
“It happens.”
“But you never have feelings?”
“Never enough to reconsider.”
Okay. A firm time frame is good. An end point. Less chance of getting hurt. Emotionally. But why in the world am I worried about that? This isn’t about feelings. It’s about cold, hard cash. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You haven’t asked for an amount yet.”
“You haven’t made an offer.”
He chuckles fair point. “After you accept my offer, I’ll transfer ten percent into the account of your choice.”
“Oh.”
“Another ten percent after we sign the contract. The rest when the thirty days are up.”
“So it starts… now?”
“After we sign,” he says.
Seems reasonable. “And how is it staying legal?”
“I’m not paying you to fuck me.” His tone shifts to something dirty and demanding.
My thighs press together reflexively. Fuck, that tone is hot. I want him to use it again. Only with an entirely different implication.
“I want to fuck you, Eve. Very much. But I’m not paying for anything except your time.”
“Isn’t that what everyone says?” I’m not a lawyer, but I’m pretty sure that doesn’t hold up in court.
“It’s true. I’m paying for your time. Thirty days at my beck and call. You go where I ask you to go. Stay where I ask you to stay. Leave when I ask you to leave.”