Page 59 of Wicked Heat

“You’re back.” The pleasure at seeing her was palpable, a physical thing, and so unlike anything he’d felt for any other woman he’d known. “What’s the verdict on my proposal? Am I the biggest asshole on the planet or just a fucked-up guy?” He said it with a smile, but he meant every word. If he could do the last hour all over again, he damn sure would.

She looked at him, her face entirely expressionless, and he felt his heart sink and his stomach twist.

“Why can’t you be both those things? Fucked up and an ass?”

“You make a good point. I think that describes me pretty well.”

“I’d say so.” She stared at him for another beat, then another. Still that flat expression. Still, his heart continued to sink.

“Caleb offered to give me the three million.”

“Caleb?” The name was bitter in his mouth. “He’s your friend. Aria’s cousin. The choreographer.”

Ash had met Caleb once when the dancer had come with Bree and Aria to a Hollywood premiere party for a mutual friend. Ash hadn’t much liked the guy, though he hadn’t been able to put his finger on why.

He got it now.

He’d hated the poor son-of-a-bitch because Caleb was attracted to Bree. Ash didn’t think Bree had even noticed, but Ash certainly had. And maybe that really did make Ash the asshole, but he still hated Caleb for that same damn reason.

Not that he’d let Bree see as much now. Instead, he pasted on his usual boardroom expression, the kind that showed no particular emotion. “Good. That’s a good plan. No strings. And no asshole—that would be me—to deal with.”

“You really are the asshole,” she said, punctuating her words with a slow grin. “But I’m taking your three mil, anyway.”

It took him a second to make sense of her words. “You want to repeat that?”

“I’m. Taking. Your. Money.” She smiled, then bit her lower lip, which, frankly, was sexy as hell. “If you’re still offering.”

“Oh.” Every drop of blood in his body shot straight toward his cock, and right then it felt as if all the sunshine came back into the world. “I’ve never been happier to be out three million dollars.”

She laughed, and he grinned back. He had no idea what was going through her head, but at least he knew she didn’t hate him.

“And you’re accepting my terms?”

She blushed but nodded. “With one condition of my own.”

He cocked his head. “Are you in a position to impose conditions?”

She lifted her chin, her eyes never leaving his. “You don’t get to ask me what the money’s for.”

His chest tightened. Whatever was going on—whatever had not only forced her to seek out three million, but had also led her to agree to selling herself—had to be some pretty bad mojo. He wanted to argue. Wanted to hold her close while she told him everything. And then he wanted to fix it for her. Whatever it happened to be.

But he did none of that. Instead, he nodded. “Agreed. Now tell me why you agreed.” She shrugged. “Gregory says you’re not an ass. Generally, I think Gregory’s a pretty smart guy. I’m not sure how he missed the boat on that one.”

He took a step toward her. “It’s because I buy him really great Christmas presents.”

“I figured it had something to do with that.” She stepped fully over the threshold, then shut the door behind her.

He moved a bit closer, feeling strangely tentative, as if he was approaching a scared kitten. “I’m paying a pretty stiff price,” he said, purposefully letting his gaze roam over her. “I hope the merchandise is worth it.” He was taking a risk, and he was on the verge of wishing he could call back the words when he saw the corner of her mouth twitch.

“Hey, caveat emptor,” she said. “And as for that stiff price…thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, but in his head, he was leaping up and down, celebrating the fact that they had a deal. The news pleased him more than it should have. This was a sex-for-money deal. Purely transactional.

Just something to help him let off steam and justify giving the woman three million.

Except that was bullshit, of course. He didn’t want transactional with Bree. He wanted real. And he knew better than most that real could be some very scary shit.

Eighteen