“Thank you.” My expectations for life and my perceptions of people were far different from the average person. I’d just thanked a man who offered to house me and feed me and protectme if I fucked him—and I felt like I was the one who got a good deal.
He continued to stare at me like he expected more, either insults to his character or demands of my own. When the silence was permanent, he realized that further conversation wasn’t needed. “I’ll let you get settled.” He rose to his feet and moved around me, his footsteps light against the thick rug.
“Goodnight.”
I knew he was gone as soon as the door clicked shut.
When I was surrounded by my solitude, the adrenaline and despair floated out of my body like a cloud. My eyes were on the window with the curtains wide open, the top of a nearby building visible. I’d made a deal that any sane person would judge me for, but I would gladly take it to have this.
To feel safe.
5
ALIÉNOR
I slept through the night without waking once. When I woke up, it was almost one in the afternoon because I’d gone to bed so late. The butler either seemed to know not to wake me in the morning, or he didn’t know I was there yet. I showered and got dressed before I sat on the couch and grabbed my laptop to continue the job search.
The door opened without announcement, and Luca stepped inside. He was in nothing but those workout shorts and running shoes, all of his muscles thick with strength and plump with blood from his workout. His skin shone from the exertion. He had a tumbler in his hand, probably a protein supplement to accompany his exercise routine.
I should protest the way he walked in without knocking, but this was his house, the four walls that kept me alive because of the man who resided within it. I closed my laptop and set it on the coffee table.
“Text me when you want me. Don’t come to my door.”
Like the way he’d just barged into mine?
“I don’t have a schedule, but I mostly work nights.”
“Alright.” I kept my eyes on his and didn’t let them drift elsewhere. I’d been with good-looking men who were fit, but never a man who looked like him. Not with arms the size of my head, with shoulders thick as a bedpost. And the veins on his arms and up his neck…they did something to me.
“Ask Andre for anything you need.” He grabbed his phone from his pocket then fired off a text, probably sharing his contact info. “One of my drivers can take you anywhere you need to go.” He turned away like the conversation had concluded.
I didn’t just find sanctuary, but luxury—luxury I hadn’t known in a long time. “When are you leaving?”
He turned back to me before he opened the door. His eyebrows furrowed slightly at the question. “I have a meeting at seven.” Without waiting for my explanation, he walked out of my bedroom and returned to his.
It was around five when I texted him.Can I come by?It seemed silly to text him when he was just down the hallway, but his house, his rules.
The dots and his answer were instant.Yes.
A jolt of unease swept through me, the kind of tension I’d felt right before I’d given a presentation in front of the class in school. My chest was tight and my breaths were constricted. But I reminded myself I’d done this before. Done more for less.
I didn’t knock before I entered his bedroom. Mine was spacious and beautiful, with a bed and a seating area in front of the fireplace. But his primary suite was bigger than most apartments. It had a full sitting room in front of a big TV, a dining table near the large windows that showed the city, and his actual bedroom was in a different room.
He was on the couch in front of the TV, a decanter of scotch in front of him, along with a bucket of ice. In his hand was a glass with ice cubes at the bottom, and when his eyes flicked to me, it almost slipped from his hand. On instinct, he grabbed it again, but an ice cube dropped to the rug beneath his feet.
He was jolted because I was in nothing but a black thong.
The slip of his hand was the only reaction he gave. His expression remained as hard and collected as ever, and his eyes were locked on mine like he didn’t want to look at me the way I tried not to look at him when he came into my room after his workout.
The fire burned in the fireplace underneath the TV and cast his room in a glow. It was still light outside, but the curtains were almost entirely closed and blocked out the sunlight that would cast a glare on his screen.
Barefoot, I sauntered into his living room, my core tight and my tits up.
When I came closer, his eyes moved down and over me. He set the glass on the table and leaned back, his gaze slowly trailing over my body with a fine-toothed comb. He was in his sweatpants and nothing else, hard muscles under beautiful skin, veins popping like rivers on a map.
I moved over him right away, knees hitting the couch, thighs straddling his hips. In a fluid motion, I was on him, my lips catching his like our mouths were a pair of magnets, and I kissed him like I’d die if I didn’t have him.
He didn’t hesitate at our union. He reciprocated with the same fire, as if my flames had set him ablaze. His hand dug into my hair, and he kissed me the way he had at our last goodbye. A smoldering kiss with tongue and breath. For a man of few words and even less emotion, he was an expressive lover, full of passion and affection. He wasn’t afraid to grip me and touch me, to pull me close, like whatever I gave him wasn’t enough.
