So I’m bitter. Who gives a f**k? I think I’m allowed to be.
I open my suitcase and pull out a tan chiffon dress with a black lace layer over it. This is one of my favorite dresses despite only having worn it once. And it looks perfect with the black purse and tan heels I conveniently packed. So it’s not as garish and glittery as Vegas demands, but it’s classy and sexy.
My middle names. If you discount Ms. Lingerie.
I throw on some makeup and step into some black lingerie. And pause.
The lock clicks on the door, and before I can grab the robe again, Aaron strolls into the room.
“What the hell, Aaron?”
Those electric eyes comb over my body, his gaze touching every inch of my body, sweeping over my exposed curves smoothly. I put my hands on my hips as if the simple movement can distract me from the feelings running through my body.
I’m looked at every day in every way, but I can’t remember the last time someone looked at me the way Aaron is right now. His darkened gaze, full of hunger and want, isn’t for the body. It’s for me.
He finally brings his eyes to mine and grabs a bow tie from the bed. “I’m still getting ready.”
“So you picked the lock? You didn’t think to ask if I was dressed?” I snatch my dress and slink into it.
“Underwear is dressed.” He smirks. “Do you want me to zip you up?”
I try and fail to get the zipper on my back up. “I suppose.”
He stands behind me as I turn. I can see us in the floor-length mirror in front of me, but it can’t distract from the buzz that moves over my skin when his fingers brush my back.
“You’re angry with me,” he murmurs.
“Did you expect me to be sunshine and rainbows?”
“No.” He slides my hair over my shoulder and brings the zipper the rest of the way up. His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “But I didn’t expect you to be this pissed either.”
“You show up in my life after seven years—as my client—then buy me for six weeks.”
“It wouldn’t bother you normally.”
I sigh. “Being bought is my job.”
He drops his eyes to my back and strokes the back of my neck with his thumb. “So why does it matter if I have? After all, it’s your job.”
You bastard. “Don’t f**k with me, Aaron. You know exactly why it’s different.”
“Because you loved me once.”
I swallow and step forward where he can’t touch me anymore. Twelve hours and this conversation is already pushing boundaries. Pushing my rules. “Yes.”
He nods and wordlessly puts on his bow tie. I grab my brush from the dresser and run it through my dark hair, keeping my eyes on a part of the mirror where I can’t see him.
I should have said no. I should have turned this job down.
“You should wear your hair like this.” Aaron once again comes behind me and pushes my hair over my shoulder. He’s fully dressed now, the sleeves of his white shirt creeping below his black jacket. “It suits you.”
I snap the band on my wrist. “I’m wearing it up.”
He takes my wrist and slides off the band, tucking it into his pocket. “Wear your hair this way.”
“Are you asking me as my client?” I ask through a tight jaw.
“I don’t ask people things, Dayton. I tell them. You included.”
There’s an undertone of something in his voice—of power. Of the power he’ll hold in a few short weeks, but more than that, the power he already holds. Because he’s right. He doesn’t ask people. He’s never asked me anything.
Even when we met, he didn’t ask me for a date. He told me I was going out with him. Just like he told me when our dates became something more. When he told me he’d booked a second hotel room across the city for us. Just us.
I never said no. It never crossed my mind to.
“Your wish is my command,” I mutter under my breath, grabbing hair pins instead. He quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, finally leaving me in peace. Once my hair is pinned to the side—per my client’s request—I slip on my tan heels and grab my purse.
Aaron’s waiting for me in the main room, looking out over the strip like I was not so long ago. I pause here at the door and let my eyes run over him shamelessly. He’s gorgeous—truly gorgeous. He wears his suits in a way that’s effortlessly sexy, and I haven’t seen him in an outfit yet that hasn’t been tailored perfectly to fit his body.
Granted, I’ve only seen three outfits, but I’d imagine the others are the same.
“Are you done?” His eyes find mine, and the sparkle in them tells me he caught me ogling him.
“Yep.” I move toward the door.
“Wait.” His long stride swallows the room as he walks to me. “Give me your hand.”
I hold my hand out and he pulls a glittering tennis bracelet from a box I didn’t know he was holding. I open my mouth when he attaches it around my wrist, but he speaks before any shocked words can leave me.
“Don’t.” He meets my gaze. “I can’t say I’m giving this out of the goodness of my heart.”
“So why are you?”
He rubs his thumb along the underside of my wrist, alongside the bracelet. “It makes a statement. It tells everyone you belong to me.”
“I’m pretty sure the money deposited in my account at noon does that.”
“And you and I are the only people who know of that. The guys downstairs don’t, but they know this.” He taps it and drops my hand. “Which means you’re safe from any unwanted advances.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m safe, exactly.”
“Trust me, Day.” He brushes the backs of his fingers along my jaw, his eyes tracing their path, and drops his voice. “When I come on to you, it’ll be because you want it. Very much.”
He opens the door and leads me to the elevator. Once inside, he punches the button and wraps an arm around my waist. Heat radiates from him into my side, and I clutch my purse tighter to distract myself from the way his fingers are flexing at my waist.
“Try not to sass me too much tonight.”
“I’m not promising anything.”
Chapter Five
Aaron eyes me over the top of his cards, and I bring my glass to my lips. We’ve been at this table for an hour, but this is the first game I’ve played. If my daddy taught me anything, it’s that you don’t play poker ‘til you know a guy’s tells.