“Woman, you’re giving me whiplash,” he drawls. “You just said you couldn’t do this.”
“I didn’t mean to say that,” I say quietly. “I was thinking out loud.”
“This is good for you,” he tells me. “Really good. You got a price I wouldn’t dream of and the bidder is a good guy. That’s a Disney ending.”
“It is?”
He narrows his eyes a little. “Yes.”
I look down at my black robe. So this is what a princess looks like. I rub my eyes. Oh my God. How did this happen?
Marchant is tapping his foot, and I’m reminded that despite his easy charm and good looks, he’s a business man—a business man in the body-selling business. He leans forward, putting a gentle hand on my head. “Are we good? C’mon...I want to hear you tell me that you’re okay. You feel prepared?”
I nod, although it couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m not ready to have ten million dollar sex with anybody, much less Hunter. The mere thought of seeing him in this position makes my eyes well with tears again. I blink them back. I’m not going to be a prima donna or a baby about this. At least not when anyone can see.
“Does Hunter come here often?” I ask in a hoarse voice. I don’t mean to ask it. The words just fall out of my mouth.
“He comes here to see me. He’s an old friend. One of my best.” Marchant’s eyes are digging into mine, and I get the feeling he’s trying to figure something out. A second passes, and his mouth draws up. He curses angrily and digs a hand through his hair.
“Goddamnit.” He looks back over his shoulder. “I’m sorry for the French, but shit. You and him...you’ve got some sort of history.” He says it like ‘history’ is a curse word.
I shake my head, wondering what it means that Hunter hasn’t ever mentioned me to his best friend. “I was just curious.”
At that, he throws his head back and laughs. “Just curious. I’ll put that down in your file.” He takes a step closer, kneeling so we’re at eye level. His brown ones look earnest. “You want the money?”
I nod.
“You sold your virginity to Hunter West for ten million dollars. Are you ready to fulfill your contract?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, if that’s what he wants me for.” I’m having a really hard time believing he paid that much money to get what he could get in a club bathroom—heck, just about anywhere—for free.
“If that’s what he wants you for.” Marchant snorts. “He just paid millions for you, honey. I’d say he fucking wants you.” He gives me a pointed look, like he’s expecting some explanation as to why his friend would do this. When I just blink at him, he rolls his eyes. “Well here’s the deets. He wants to host you at his place. Tonight.” He examines my face, which is bug-eyed, and shakes his head like he can’t believe what he’s about to say. “He’s willing to pay an extra two million if you have any objections to moving to his ranch.”
An extra two million to get me to his house tonight? I rub my lips together, freaking the F out and trying not to hyperventilate. “Okay,” I whisper. I can do this. Oh God, can I?
“You gonna charge him the extra, or you want to amend the contract and settle with what he paid already?”
“Ten million dollars.” It just can’t be real.
But Marchant nods, those brown eyes holding mine, like he’s looking for something. I sit up straighter, hell-bent on keeping him from finding it.
I take a deep breath, so I can speak without my voice shaking. “I’ll do it without charging two million, unless there’s something else to this. I mean, he doesn’t want me for a threesome or something, right?”
“A threesome?” He laughs. “That’s more my speed.”
I remember the story about Priscilla Heat filming an orgy scene with Marchant. The thought disgusts me. I wrap the robe more tightly around my body and nod. “Okay then. I’ll go…tonight.”
“I’ll have Jeff ride with you if West wants to take his own wheels.”
I smooth the robe over my knee. “I don’t think I need him. Thank you, though.”
He arches his brows—same color as his dark blond hair—and sticks his hands into the pockets of his suit. “I’m sorry you’re unhappy with the outcome of the bidding.”
I try to smirk, but my mouth just ends up quivering, so I press my lips together. “I don’t really believe you. You’re his best friend. Everybody knows that.”
“Guilty as charged. Hunter’s a good guy, Scarlett. He won’t hurt you. He...” Marchant looks like he’s going to confide in me about something, but then he shakes his head. “Hunter’s a good guy,” he says again.
He glances down at his phone, then back up into my eyes. “Are you okay to talk with him? He’d like to see you now.”