“Efxaristo,” he said, thanking her, then drank the alcohol at once. Damn it, he should have ordered something stronger, but he’d preferred to keep his head clear. After all, he had to deal with his hormones already; every single one from his teenage years had returned with a vengeance.
The previous day, he’d worked from the hotel and masturbated twice. Today, once. The idea of Amaya in his bed for a month brought a state of unrest to his body, unsettling each one of his nerves.
An idea he shouldn’t be too excited about, the pragmatic part of him pleaded. Sure, he’d enjoy Amaya, but this was about means to an end. For generations, his family had always followed their duty. Hell, his own father had married his mother because that had been expected of him. Rumor had it, he’d loved some other girl before his mother, a girl their family would never approve of.
Theo sat the glass of champagne on the table and opened his sleek laptop. Only took him two minutes to realize he couldn’t concentrate.
“Welcome aboard, Ms. Lopez. Please come in,” Jessica said, greeting the newcomer.
Theo adjusted himself on the seat and glanced at his laptop, as if he’d been mindlessly working and not musing over his new obsession. His mother would call this conundrum karma. Theo’d always prided himself on not being a slave of his dick—not that he’d ever been a saint, but shit, he’d tried to contain his urges. Growing up, he’d learned quickly he could give women a lot of pleasure, or a lot of pain. He’d always chosen the first, though sometimes the latter was inevitable.
“Hi,” she said, waving her hand at him like they were several feet from each other and not inches. “Where should I sit?”
“Anywhere you want.”
She glanced at the seat next to him for a second, then plopped on the seat in front of him, with the safety of the dark oak table bolted to the carpeted floor between them.
Desire stirred up his groin, and his pants got instantly tighter. With her hair in a ponytail and face free of makeup, she looked impossibly young. A pang of guilt stabbed at him. Young, innocent, and hungry for money—a dangerous combination.
“This is…amazing.” She skimmed the gold accents of his aircraft, carefully blending with the polished wood and oversize chairs. When her eyes returned to his, he caught a touch of wonder in the depths of her brown eyes, like she wanted to bask in each single detail.
Her naiveté brought a smile to his lips. Talia, his future bride, was used to wealth and in the events they’d attended together, always made sure she had the best seat in the house. She knew what to ask for and was no damsel in distress—a virgin, yes, due to a practical point of view, but also a go-getter. She needed this marriage as much as he did, for it meant she’d be the one saving her company and family. She, the only child who happened to be female, much to her conservative father’s disappointment.
Old money and old rules.
The millions he’d spent on Amaya could very well be his last if he didn’t marry Talia and gain control of Rhodes Enterprises. The more stocks, the more control so he could be in charge—and boot his uncle Horace from the CFO position. Possibly get him arrested, like he deserved.
“Never flown on a private jet, I assume.”
A wave of red spread across her cheeks. “Never flown anywhere.”
“You have a passport.”
“Yes, to visit family members in Mexico. By car.”
Jessica returned, grabbing his glass and warning them about takeoff.
The engine purred, and the pilot’s voice sounded in the speakerphone, talking about the weather.
He slid his laptop in the side pocket and glanced at Amaya. She clenched the armrest a little too tight, enough to form a frown on her pretty face. He wished she’d been on time, so she’d had a stiff drink before flying. How could he have known she was also a virgin to the skies?
The idea brought a dirty image to his mind. He’d be popping a lot of cherries and couldn’t wait to get started. “Don’t be nervous.”
She rubbed her hands together. “I’m not.”
He lifted an eyebrow.
She sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I’m a bad liar.”
“Just stay away from poker games and politics, and you’ll be fine.”
She smiled, showing her straight white teeth. Dimples dented both sides of her cheeks, and he fought the urge to kiss them. His heart flipped in his chest as if he’d received great news. Time. Give her time.
Give yourself time. That’s what he’d promised himself after things ended so abruptly with Eleni. Because of the agreement to marry Talia, he’d always steered away from women who challenged him emotionally. Women who defied his carefully crafted rationale and sense of duty. Women like…
Amaya gazed at him, the complex brown irises drawing him in. The tips of his fingers tingled, and an ache to open the door of a part of himself he’d always kept shut stabbed at him. What the hell?
He’d screw her all right, but he couldn’t jump her bones and hurt her like he’d done Eleni. Especially since he had Amaya for a month—enough time to teach himself how to properly corrupt a virgin—he didn’t want to rush things.
