Page 65 of Tempting Kat
“Excuse me?” I straighten up, crossing my arms over my chest. “What do you mean I'm not?”
Conrad finally turns to face me, his expression calm but his eyes intense. “You're not moving back in. You belong here.”
“I belong here?” I scoff, sliding off the barstool. “Since when do you get to decide where I belong?”
“Our deal is evolving,” he says, so fucking calmly it makes me want to scream. “You're comfortable here. Your work is thriving. Why would you go back to that shoebox?”
“Because it's my shoebox, Conrad,” I lean across the counter. “You can't just decide where I live. What about just asking me what I want? You’ve been doing a good job of doing that for the last month, so what changed?”
“Fine.” He turns off the burner with a sharp twist of his wrist. “What do you want, Katarina?”
The question hangs between us, and I open my mouth to tell him exactly what I want—my independence, my own space, my life back—but the words stick in my throat.
“I want...” I falter, hating how uncertain I sound. “I want to be asked, not told.”
Conrad moves around the island so quickly I barely have time to step back. He crowds me against the counter, his hands coming down on either side of me, caging me in with his body. His face is inches from mine, his eyes dark and intense.
He looks like he wants to stitch me to his skin and first, ew gross, but secondly, that’s kind of romantic in a horror movie kind of way.
“I'm not ready to let you go,” he says, his voice low and rough. “Now that I've had you here for the month, I want you here for the entire rest of our deal. Look me in my face and tell me it's been horrible being here with me, and I'll let you go.”
I open my mouth to tell him exactly that, but the words stick in my throat. Because it hasn't been horrible. It's been…fuck. It's been good. Really good. The sex is mind-blowing, sure, but it's more than that. It's waking up to fresh coffee. It's working in that beautiful office he created just for me. It's falling asleep with his arms around me, feeling safe for the first time in forever.
I'm a lot of things. Stubborn, impulsive, and reckless, but I'm not a fucking liar.
“That's not the point,” I manage to say, my voice weaker than I want it to be. “You can't just decide things for me. You couldhave asked me, Conrad. Asked if I wanted to stay longer instead of telling me I'm not moving back.”
Something shifts in his expression—a flicker of understanding, maybe even regret. His hands move from the counter to cup my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones.
“You're right,” he says, surprising the hell out of me. “I should have asked. I'm not used to…this. Having someone I need to consult. I see what I want, and I take it.”
“And what you want is me. Here.”
Chapter 20
Katarina
I'm fucked. Not the good kind where I can't walk straight the next day, but the emotional kind that makes me want to crawl out of my own skin.
I stare at my phone like it's a bomb about to detonate in my hand. Three dots appear, disappear, then reappear as Frankie types her response. I've just dumped the entire Conrad situation on her, word-vomiting every filthy detail I probably should have kept to myself. But she's my sister, and who the fuck else am I supposed to talk to about a billionaire who wants to own me? I mean she’s probably going to ream me a new one for not telling her about him a while ago.
So let me get this straight. You're living in a mansion with a man who fucks you like you're his personal porn star, buys you things, gives you a dream office, and he wants you to stay...and you're freaking out because...?
Because I'm not some trophy he can just add to his collection! He's trying to keep me like I'm a fucking pet.
No, he's trying to keep you like you're his girlfriend. There's a difference, Kat.
We're not dating. We're fucking. With an expiration date.
A man doesn't ask you to move in with him if all he wants is to fuck you. Trust me, I would know. I was literally just in your shoes, you hoe. Alexander fucked plenty of women before me, but I'm the only one he wanted to wake up next to every morning.
I pull my knees up to my chest, sinking deeper into Conrad's ridiculously comfortable couch. The fire crackles in the massive stone fireplace across from me, offering me a distraction as I stare into the flames trying my best to disassociate.
That's different. You and Alexander are disgustingly perfect for each other. Conrad and I are...complicated.
Bullshit. You're not complicated. It doesn’t get more complicated than fucking your ex-boyfriends dad so please spare me the tit for tat. You're scared. Like hello you cannot hide that shit from me sis. I literally know exactly what goes through your head.
Fuck you.
