I slipped my soapy hand between her thighs, feeling her still-sensitive flesh. "Which one do you think?"
She gasped, her hips shifting instinctively toward my touch.
"Gentle," she breathed.
"For now." I circled her clit lazily, not trying to make her come, just touching because I could. "But the day’s not over yet."
"What else do you have planned?"
"Dinner. More scenes. Maybe some impact play if you're interested." I withdrew my hand and began rinsing her off. "And somewhere in there, we're going to talk."
Her expression shuttered slightly. "About what?"
"About why you're really here." I stood, grabbing a towel. "Stand up."
She obeyed, water sluicing off her body in rivulets that I wanted to follow with my tongue. Later. There'd be time for that later.
I wrapped the towel around her and began drying her with the same thorough attention I'd given to washing her. Arms, legs, torso, between her thighs—gentle but firm, claiming every inch.
"I told you why I'm here," she said quietly. "I wanted to escape. To let someone else be in control."
"That's part of it." I guided her out of the bathroom and toward the bed, I retrieved a black silk robe and walked back toward her. "But there's more. I could see it in your eyes at the ball. The fear underneath the desire."
"I'm not afraid of you."
"I know. You're afraid of something else." I helped her into the robe, tying it at her waist. "And before this night is over, you're going to tell me what it is."
"That wasn't part of our agreement."
"Our agreement was for one night of whatever I wanted within your limits." I tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes. "And I want honesty. Complete honesty. That's non-negotiable."
She pulled away, wrapping her arms around herself. "You don't get to demand my secrets just because you paid for my body."
"You're right. I don't." I moved to the bar cart and poured two glasses of water, bringing one back to her. "Drink. All of it."
She took the glass but didn't drink, just stared at me with those eyes that held too many secrets for my liking.
"Here's what I think," I said, leaning against the bedpost. "I think you came to that auction looking for more than just escape. I think you need something—money, protection, power, I don't know yet. And I think whatever you need, it's important enough that you were willing to let strangers bid on you to get it."
Her hand trembled slightly on the glass. "That’s presumptuous."
"I'm a Moretti. Reading people is literally part of my job description. I’m never wrong." I took a sip of my own water. "But I'm also a man who just spent the last hour making you come so hard you cried. So maybe we can skip the games and you could trust me with the truth."
"Why do you care?"
The question was valid. Why did I care? This was supposed to be a transaction. A night of mutual pleasure with no strings attached. But something about her called to me. The strength beneath the surrender. The intelligence in her eyes even when she was begging. The way she'd looked at me when I fed her lunch. Like I was giving her something more precious than food.
"Because I want to make you an offer," I said, deciding on honesty. "But I can't do that until I understand what you actually need."
She stared at me for a long moment, then drained the water glass in one long swallow. When she finished, she set it down with deliberate care and met my eyes.
"I need a husband."
Of all the things I'd expected her to say, that wasn't it.
"Explain," I said, keeping my voice neutral despite the way my pulse had just kicked up.
"My mother died six months ago. Left me her company, Castellano & Co., in her will." She moved to the windows, staring out at the city. "But there were conditions. I have to be settled down within twelve months of her death, or everything goes to my uncle."
