Page 26 of Saved By the Billionaire

“I don’t want your money,” Kate snapped, shaking her head quickly. “I can’t believe you feel that’s necessary.”

“I’m private about my life,” he said, words gruff. “If I were to say anything, to reveal more of myself than I’m comfortable with, I like to know I’m covered. That I won’t see it printed in the papers in a week’s time. So I pay whoever I’m spending time with enough to know that no other financial compensation will come close to competing.”

“I’m not interested in sharing your secrets. Sheesh. What kind of women do you usually date?”

“Sleep with,” he corrected, and a tremble of jealousy made her whole body tingle and ache. “And believe it or not, women who have integrity. The NDA is a catch all. For my peace of mind.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t need that with me. I’m not going to tell anyone anything about you.”

“You say that now, but if a magazine offers you five hundred thousand dollars for all the sordid details?”

“I’d tell them to get stuffed,” she responded indignantly.

“No, you wouldn’t, and I’d be disappointed if you did. You’re a survivor, Kate, just like me. You’re someone who’ll do whatever it takes to make it. I recognise that part of you.”

She gasped at the way he said it—no anger or judgement. Just admiration.

“So if you want to stay here and get to know me better—whatever form that takes—let’s discuss it like a business proposition, and go from there.”

“But this isn’t business,” she denied hotly. “Nothing that I feel for you is commercial.”

“It’s for my peace of mind,” he reminded her.

“I’ve already told you, I have no intention of telling anyone anything…”

“And this makes sure of it.” He reached out and tilted her chin in that way he had. “It also means that I know you’re okay. That you’ll always be okay. It’s a way of helping you. Let me do that.”

“You already have,” she pointed out. “You saved me, you brought me here, you’ve done so much…”

“Not enough.” The words were heavy with self-recrimination; it made no sense.

“I’ll get the paperwork for you to look over. No pressure. But without it, we need to stop playing this game.”

The thing was, she didn’t want to stop. She didn’t consider they were playing a damned thing, but she did like how it felt to be near Roman, to spar with him, challenge him, to go toe to toe with him. To feel as though she were frustrating him and making him wonder about her.

Yes, she saw the inherent danger here, too. She saw the risks. Because despite how readily she accepted rejection as an inevitability, she wasn’t naïve enough to pretend it wouldn’t hurt. Roman pushing her away would be one of the hardest things she’d ever experience, except if he prepared her for it from the beginning.

Which was exactly what the paperwork would do.

Signing a contract that built in an end-point and boundaries, safe words and limits, would protect them both. It would give Roman the certainty that he could speak freely and be completely himself, and it would give Kate the freedom to enjoy this without letting herself want more. Because he was making it abundantly clear that there was no more than this. There was nothing on offer beyond a commercial arrangement.

Later that day, he placed three folders in front of where she was sitting on the sofa. Kate glanced up at him, her heart beating as she already had an inkling what they contained.

“This is from the immigration lawyers. Some forms for you to complete,” he said, tapping the first folder, which she now saw had a sticker on the front labelled with the name of a law firm. “This is from the police—photos of your assailants and a statement for you to look over.”

“Roman—” she said, shaking her head.

“My lawyers have ensured your confidentiality.”

She swallowed.

“And the third?”

His eyes seemed to swirl with heat and promise. “The paperwork we discussed. If you have any questions, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

She wanted to look at the third folder first. She ached to read what was contained within, to see exactly what terms he propositioned his mistresses with. But instead, she made herself go in order, starting with the immigration paperwork. It was a visa extension application, back dated to when her original tourist visa expired.

“Will this work?”