"Tonight," I promise, "you're exactly where I want you to be."
She doesn't pull her hand away. "And where's that?"
"Close enough to touch. Far enough away that I can still think straight."
"And if you couldn't think straight?"
The question sends heat straight through me. "Then we'd both be in trouble."
"What kind?"
"The kind where we stop pretending this is just business."
She meets my eyes, and I can see her weighing options she doesn't fully understand. "Maybe I'm tired of pretending."
"Maybe you should eat your dinner before you decide that."
She laughs again, but doesn't let go of my hand. "You think food will change my mind?"
"I think you need to be sure about what you're saying."
"Why?"
"Because once we cross that line, Madison, there's no going back."
"To what?"
"To simple. To safe. To you being just a debt I'm collecting."
She's quiet for a long moment, and I can practically see her thinking through the implications.
"And if I decide I want to cross that line anyway?"
I squeeze her hand. "Then you better be ready for the consequences."
"What consequences?"
I bring her hand to my lips and press a kiss to her palm, watching her eyes darken. "That's what you'll have to find out."
Chapter 13: Maddie
I lie awake in the beautiful guest cottage for hours after dinner, staring at the ceiling and trying to sort through everything that's happened.
The evening was incredible. The food was amazing, the conversation was stimulating, and when Enzo told me he wanted me—the way he looked at me when he said it—I felt something I've never felt before. Like I was beautiful and desirable and worth pursuing.
But lying here in this perfect bedroom, in this perfect cottage, on his perfect property, all I can think about is the bathroom.
Not just that he saw me naked.
Though that was mortifying enough. It's the way it happened. The casual way he entered a space where I had every right to expect privacy. The fact that he admitted it was deliberate. The complete lack of apology in his voice when he said if he wanted to see me naked, he'd find a way to make it happen.
Like my consent wasn't part of the equation.
I sit up in bed and look around this beautiful room that suddenly feels less like generous hospitality and more like a pretty trap. Everything here is his. The cottage, the furniture, the expensive toiletries.
I didn't earn any of this. I haven't contributed anything yet. This level of luxury and attention isn't a business arrangement and I can’t pretend it is. It’s something else entirely. And that something else comes with expectations I'm not sure I want to meet.
The rational part of my brain says I'm overreacting. So, what if he saw me in the shower? It was just a body. My body. And what if he is attracted to me? I'm attracted to him too. So, what if he's providing me with beautiful accommodations while my cottage is being repaired? I'm going to be working to earn them.
