Page 8 of Bought

Slowly, he turned from his study of the empty fireplace, keeping his hands loosely clasped behind his back. He looked down at me, blue eyes glittering from beneath straight black brows. “I mean, I will not be taking your virginity.”

I already knew he wouldn’t, yet that strange discomfort I’d felt as soon as I’d stepped into the room suddenly deepened. Widened. And it had nothing to with his words.

I was sitting in a chair while he stood, and he was so tall, staring down at me with those cold, cold eyes. I was supposed to pretend I was vulnerable and fragile, but now, feeling dwarfed by him, there was no pretending. I did feel vulnerable, and I hated it.

Over the years there had been many hard lessons for me about being a woman on my own. You had to be strong, hard, and you couldn’t look weak. You couldn’t look like a victim, not if you didn’t want people to take advantage, and so my first instinct with any guy who seemed like he wanted something from me was to fight. To show him that he better think twice about taking me on.

But here I was supposed to be playing the innocent virgin, so I swallowed the sarcastic remark I’d been going to say, gritted my teeth, and faked shock instead. “You’re not?”

“No. You can have your money, but you won’t need to do anything for it.”

I gave him a wide-eyed look. “But…why?”

“Because I’m not in the habit of deflowering virgins.” The stark lines of his face were disapproving, making him look even more like a stern headmaster. “Can I ask why you thought selling yourself was a good idea?”

Despite myself, my hackles rose. I wanted to tell him that he could spare me the lecture and take a step back with the judgment, but again, I was playing a part. Shy virgins didn’t tell rich and important men to fuck right off.

“I…I needed some money for a business I want to start up,” I said hesitantly, making it up as I went along. “And a friend had done the same thing, so I thought—”

“Spare me the details.” His tone was icy. “But there are better ways to get business capital.”

Sure, there were. If you already had money and a college education. If you were a man. But I wasn’t here to argue about gender, capitalism, and society. I was here to get him to take me home with him so I could search his damn house.

I squeezed my hands together in my lap. “You’re right,” I said, injecting just the right amount of shame into my voice. “I know, and I’m sorry. And I…really hate to ask this, but….” I looked up at him pleadingly, big-eyed as a puppy. “I need a place to stay tonight, somewhere safe. So, I was wondering if you would mind taking me home anyway?”

His black brows drew together. “Take you home?”

I fluttered my eyelashes, which was laying it on a bit thick, but I was committed now. “Yes. I…don’t have anywhere else to go tonight, and the money won’t hit my account until tomorrow.”

His sharp blue gaze scanned me like he was a quality control officer inspecting a product for flaws. “If you don’t have anywhere to go, I’ll pay for a hotel for you.”

Shit. That wasn’t what I was after.

I dropped my gaze to my hands, hoping to look even more pathetic. “I appreciate that, really, I do. I just…. I don’t feel safe in a hotel room. There are….” I drew out the hesitation. “…bad people after me.”

“Bad people?”

“I’m sorry. I kind of lied about the business. I actually have…debts. That’s why I had to sell myself. But the deadline for repayment was tonight and if I don’t come up with the cash, they’ll…hurt me.”

His gaze sharpened, becoming pointed. “You should go to the police.”

“If I do that, they’ll find out and they’ll come for me. It’s just for tonight. Please.”

He stared at me for a long moment. Then he moved, so quickly I barely had time to register it before he’d taken a step toward my chair and bent, his hand coming out to take my chin in a firm grip.

Shock made me freeze – an instinct I’d thought I’d outgrown years ago – and then my flight response kicked in. I tried to jerk my chin away, but he was too strong. His fingers were warm against my skin, his grip unbreakable, and his cold blue eyes were all I could see.

“You’re lying,” he said.

4

Tennyson

Her wide eyes were the color of fog sitting on a silver sea and she’d gone white, the shock on her face real this time.

A fine tremor ran through her.

She’d been the very picture of virginal innocence sitting in the armchair, wrapped up in her overdramatic cloak, her long silvery blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. A fairy princess looking at me as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

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