Okay…
“I do want you for something. I suppose you could call it a job. But not a traditional one.”
I take another sip.
“I did work for British Intelligence. I’m still in information. And I came into information about you.”
“About me?” What is there to know about me? I have teal hair and love The Handmaid’s Tale. I live with my sister. I spend too much time watching TV and not enough soaking up air-conditioning.
“Your financial situation.”
Oh. Of course. It hits me like a ton of bricks—
“You’re a virgin.”
“And?”
“A man made you an offer. Fifty thousand dollars. Am I right?”
How the hell does he know that? “Are you a cop?”
He shakes his head.
“A federal agent? Some international officer trying to break up sex-trafficking?” My head spins. “It was his offer. I didn’t take it. I barely listened. And who do you think you are to try to stop me?”
“I do want to stop you.”
“I’m not—”
“I’d like to outbid him.” His eyes bore into mine. “So tell me, Eve. What will it take? A year of rent? Tuition paid in full? Give me a number and I’ll make it happen.”
Chapter Nine
Eve
What the actual fuck?
What will it take?
What number buys my virginity?
I…
He…
What?
I take another sip. Swallow hard.
The gin is just as refreshing. The drink is just as delicious.
I’m just as hot.
Ian’s offer should repulse me. It should convince me he’s a disgusting asshole. Some cretin with a virginity fixation. Someone totally unworthy of my time.
What kind of man tries to buy a woman’s innocence?
I try to find rage.
I have a reserve of it. My deadbeat father. The jerk who runs the club. The high school boyfriend who slept with his lab partner.
The other one. Who dumped me because I was smarter than him.
He never used those words, but it was obvious. He didn’t want to be with a “pretentious buzzkill.” To him, that meant anyone who read books outside of school. Or for school. Why not use Spark Notes?
I hate all those asshats.
But I don’t hate Ian. My simmering rage refuses to latch onto him.
I just…
Why? Why in the world does he want to pay me?
He’s incredibly handsome. Powerful. Rich.
Every woman here wants him.
I want him.
A few more drinks, another date or two… there’s a good chance I’d say yes. Very good.
Now…
“Eve? Are you all right?” His voice stays steady. Totally in control. It doesn’t ruffle him at all, asking the price for my virginity.
No, I want to want to tell him to fuck off. But I don’t.
Besides, I don’t have that luxury.
I need the cash.
Badly.
“Why?” I take another sip. It’s more refreshing than the last. But I’m still burning up.
“Does that matter?”
I don’t know. Logically, it’s a minor concern. But my heart… No, my heart is ice. It doesn’t get a say until hell freezes over. “There must be a reason.”
“Are you set on this?”
“On what?”
“Are you looking for higher bidders or looking to stop all offers?”
I’m not set on it, no. But I owe it to my future to consider it. What does that say about me?
No, I’m not letting other people’s expectations define me.
Yes, some people will call me a whore or a slut for considering this. But they’ve never been where I am. They’ve never stared at a mountain of bills, wondering how they’re going to pay them.
If they’ll ever find someone, anyone who’s willing to help.
This is my chance. This is my help. And it’s practical. Entrepreneurial. Savvy.
My virginity is worthless to me. A little extra skin. An activity I haven’t done yet.
My index finger traces the lines of my forearm tattoo.
Don’t let the bastards grind you down. I needed it then. I need it now.
This is what makes sense.
But it’s terrifying too.
“I, um…” Can’t think with those dark eyes on me. It’s impossible. “I should get to work.” Figure out what the hell I’m doing.
He nods, still unruffled.
“I…” I swallow my last sip of gin and tonic. “I’ll consider that.” That keeps my options open. Sort of.
“I’ll ask the waitress to wrap your dinner. Send it to your establishment.”
“Thanks.” I slide out of the booth. Offer my hand.
He shakes with a firm grip. “I’ll see you soon, Eve.” He says it with such confidence. He’s sure I’ll say yes. Or at least come back with a number.
It’s ridiculous.
He’s ridiculous.
I pry my eyes from his, spin on my heels, march away from the table. At least, I try to march. To project confidence.
To tell the world no, I’m not for sale. Don’t be silly. I considered the doctor’s offer because it was so strange.
I could never actually go through with it.
Even if I want to sleep with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.
Even if I’d happily jump into his bed for free.
If he earned my trust.
If I believed he’d be gentle with me.
Something tells me Ian Hunt isn’t a gentle guy.