“And that’s why we’re meeting now, isn’t it?”
I smile at him. “That’s right.”
He leans toward me, green eyes bright. “How am I doing so far?”
I clear my throat a little bit. “Tell me about your business.”
He laughs and shrugs. “It’s boring. We’re called Quanta Consulting. I started it right out of college, got it to what it is today. Got offices all over the world, blah blah blah.” He shrugs. “I’m not as involved as I was a few years ago. Just lost the spark for me, I guess.”
I file that bit away. “You’re young to retire.”
“Not retiring, but I’ve done well financially. I don’t need to be as active as I was.”
“What else do you do?”
“Swim, run, sometimes play basketball. I watch old western movies and I hate new superhero movies. And I like music.”
“Favorite radio station?” I ask.
He raises an eyebrow. “People still listen to the radio?”
“Of course.”
He laughs. “WXPN.”
“Local favorite,” I say, nodding my approval.
“What about you?” he asks me. “I mean, aside from being an emotional companion, I assume you have a life.”
“More or less. But I keep my private and my professional lives separate. Our relationship will be all about you.”
He smirks a little. “I like the sound of that.”
“I thought you would.”
It takes me a beat, but I realize that I’m flirting with him. And suddenly I get a strange feeling, deep in my chest.
It’s unsettling. He leans closer to me, head cocked slightly, lips smiling. I have the insane urge to lean across the table and kiss him. I have to look away to stop myself.
This isn’t right. I never, ever feel this way about clients. I’m enjoying this chat, or interview, or whatever it is, but I’m enjoying it too much. I should be more distant, more analytical.
Instead, I’m flirting with him. At least a little bit.
I shudder a little bit. He must notice, and he frowns.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Sorry. I just realized I have another appointment.” I push back from the table.
He looks surprised. “Wait, hold on. I thought this was going well.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Price,” I say. “I don’t need a new client right now.”
“Wait.”
I start to walk away as fast as I can. This was a mistake. I need to get out of here before I do something stupid. If I kiss this guy, or do anything inappropriate, that could get back to my other clients. That would totally ruin me.
I hurry outside, but I only take a few steps before he catches up with me. He falls into step and speaks just loud enough for me to hear.
“Two million for a week,” is all he says.
I slow and come to a stop. I turn to face him, frowning. “Excuse me?”
“If you’ll be exclusive with me for one week, I’ll pay you two million dollars.” The cocky smile is back, the tilt of his head, his eyes staring at me. “That’s more than your normal rate, right?”
“Much more,” I say softly. That kind of money…
It could pay off my loans. It could pay for law school.
I could quit this job and start my real life, finally, after working so much.
But why the hell would this guy want that? I mean, I’m not a hooker. I don’t think he’s going to get what he wants from me.
Then again, he said that’s not what he’s looking for. And it’s only a week…
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
“No,” I say. “I can’t do that.”
That doesn’t seem to surprise him. “I’m interested in you, Aria, and I have more money than I know what to do with. I don’t expect you to do anything with me that you wouldn’t do with anyone else. I only expect that you’ll be mine entirely, exclusively, for one week. After that, if you want to keep seeing me as a normal client, I’ll obey your rules.”
I stare at him and can’t help but bite my lip. I feel a chill run down my spine.
One week with this man. I’d be his, completely his. No sex, of course, but we’d get close in that time, intimate…
“No,” I say again. “I can’t do that to my other clients. It just… it doesn’t work that way.”
“Of course it does. Tell them you’re going on vacation. Tell them you’ve made plans, they’ll survive for a week.” He laughs gently, steps closer. “I’m bored and I’m rich. Let me spoil you for a week.”
I meet his gaze and I’m tempted, so tempted. Michael recommended him, so he must not be a total psycho or dangerous or something, but…
“No,” I say again, taking a step back. “I’m sorry.”
Before he can argue, I turn and walk away. I practically run from him.
I want to look back. I want to look at Brady, standing on the sidewalk, standing out like a god among mortals, but I won’t let myself.