Filthy Rich (Filthy Rich 1)

My lips parted. I wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t think of a single thing to say, because I couldn’t lie. Not now. Not to Aidan.

I put the book away and rubbed my hand over my face. “Aidan, we have a problem.”

“It’s only a problem if you quit.”

“We can’t work like this.”

“We can, because you’re not going anywhere.”

I dropped my hand and shook my head. “I don’t see how it can work. We can barely be in the same room. How are we supposed to work together? It’s better if I leave.”

His voice was a growl. “You are not leaving.”

“It isn’t because I want to,” I admitted. “I don’t. I like the job. I like the company. I even like you, when you’re not being an ass.”

“I’m rarely an ass.” He sounded so fucking sure.

I looked up at him, at his gorgeous face in the shadows of the darkened office. I’d missed his face. I could admit it. Seeing Aidan was one of the things I looked forward to every day. The first thing I looked forward to every day, to be honest. Not setting eyes on him for too long had made me unsettled and cranky.

And now, if I left, I wasn’t going to see him anymore. Not ever again, unless I looked him up in the tabloids.

“Samantha,” he said gently, as if he was reading my mind.

“Do you know what I think?” I said, the honesty coming out of me again. What did I have to lose? “I think that if you and I were different people, in another place, in another lifetime, this story would have had a different ending.”

Aidan blinked, something flitting behind his dark eyes. “Different people,” he said.

“Yes.” I looked away, thinking of the book in my bag, of the characters. I felt my cheeks go hot again. “If we were just… someone else. Both of us. But we’re not.”

He was quiet for so long that I looked at him again. To my surprise, he didn’t look angry anymore. Instead, there was a spark of something devilish in his eyes.

“What?” I said.

“We can be,” he replied. “Different people, I mean.”

I thought of the book again. Then I remembered my real life, the one I lived every day. It was a nice dream to be someone else, but it wasn’t possible. “We can’t be different people,” I said. “Not forever.”

Aidan’s voice was almost harsh. “Who said anything about forever? We’ll do what the book suggests. You and me. But not you and me at all.”

It hit me, what he was saying. What he was suggesting. One Night With the Devil. The idea started deep in my belly, like fire, and then my whole body felt warm.

Being someone else—someone entirely different—for a little while. One night. With Aidan. Was that the game?

One Night with the Devil.

We were silent for a long moment, looking at each other. I knew he could see my flushed skin, my dilated pupils. I knew he could hear my hurried breath. I’d had so many fantasies about sex with a stranger. If we did this, it would be like living out the fantasy. Except the stranger would be Aidan.

I could think of a million reasons it was a bad idea. But I still couldn’t think of a way to resist.

“It would have to be… for a little while,” I said at last. “And then it would end, and we’d be ourselves again.”

“Agreed.” Aidan’s voice was low and quiet now. He said one more word. “Tomorrow.”

Saturday. I had no plans, except to sit home with my dirty book and fantasize. Why do that when I could do the real thing? “Yes,” I said.

Aidan nodded. He lifted a hand and touched his finger to my jaw—just the lightest brush, as if he couldn’t help himself. It lit my skin like fire.

“Wait for my instructions,” he said, and then he was gone.