Finally, he spoke. “To offer you a little deal.”
13
Natasha
Natasha watched Alex’s comfortable stroll back to his desk. As he removed his blazer to hang it on the back of his leather chair, she surmised that God’s gift to women was preparing to bestow her with the legendary package in his pants.
“I assume you have protection.” Natasha’s tone vacillated between hope and trepidation. She sure as hell didn’t have anything on her.
“Oh, we won’t need a condom between us.”
Her mouth agape, she wondered if this was just the lotto win she needed. Stretch marks would suck. And breastfeeding was O-U-T. But a baby would mean a lifetime guarantee of the good life.
Suspicious, she sensed something was off. “Why don’t we need a condom?”
Alex’s boyish smile widened to a full face of mischief. “If I tell you, I’ll spoil the surprise.”
Her unsettled pout seemed to have an impact on him.
“Here’s the deal. I’m not going to tell you what we’re doing until you unconditionally agree that you’ll do it.”
Natasha’s eyes flew open wide. “You want me to agree to something I don’t know? Why would anyone in their right mind do that?”
Grinning, he said, “Because there’s ten thousand dollars in it for you if you do. It would’ve been twenty, but you stiffed someone I like.”
Goddamn Charity.
Natasha took a firm stance, crossing her arms and bowing up to a man twice her size who seemed to be mocking her with a mirrored pose. “I’m not agreeing to anything unless I know the terms.”
Nonchalant, he lifted a brow. “At least you’re sounding a little like someone with a business degree. I’ll tell you what. You can ask me three questions, the kind that require a yes or no answer. I’ll give you those to decide if you’re in or out. But at the end of it, either you’re walking out of here with nothing, never to darken the door of my global empire again. Or you’re mine for two hours, at the end of which you walk away with the cash.”
From the inside pocket of his high-end suit, he tugged out a bundle. “Ten thousand dollars,” he said again, reminding her of the stakes of her decision.
As it landed on his desk, Natasha could practically smell the condiment ambrosia.
Loosening his tie, he bent over to pick up the tiny jar of mayonnaise. “What should we do with this?”
Before she could utter the disgusting term out loud, he tossed the jar in the trash.
Her shoulders relaxed with relief. Oh thank God.
“Now, your questions.”
“Three questions, huh?” Pursing her lips, she eyed the chess master up and down, thinking about why he wouldn’t want a condom. “Are you planning to fuck me in the ass?”
“Decent guess. But it’s a little too, I don’t know, unimaginative for a girl like you. So, no.”
He’s getting creative. Whatever. This guy’s a freak.
Nervous, Natasha asked, “Are any food products involved at all?”
“Food products? That’s vague. Makes me think of gas station roller food. Hmm . . .” His sadistic smile curled up. “Let’s go with no. Last question.”
She took her time thinking it over, rummaging through every detail of Charity’s account.
No Drake Dirty Sanchez. Nursery rhyme timed to his thrusts . . . I’ve had worse. And shoving my panties in his mouth would be a bonus to shut his smug trap up. But what would be imaginative? What else does he want?
Natasha’s palms started sweating before she asked the last question. Studying his eyes, she mused aloud. “Are you going to hurt me?”
Those bright eyes she’d been watching turned darker. “No,” he said, insistent in letting the word land firmly between them.
A second later, the glint in them returned.
“Now, little girl, you’re out of questions and out of time.” Fanning the bills in front of his face, he asked, “Are you sticking around . . . or walking out?”
14
Natasha
“You could just tell me what I’m in for.” Natasha kicked up the charm with a few flutters of her lashes.
“Where’s the fun in that? You’ve been scheming for weeks to bust into my world. In case you didn’t get the memo, my empire—my rules. And in another minute, the choice won’t be yours. This little deal turns into a pumpkin in sixty seconds. Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight.”
“What if I leave before the two hours is up,” she asked quickly, popping her hands on her thighs in a last-ditch effort to stall.
“Then I send the photos straight to Page Six with every tawdry detail of your plan to bed me. And you’ve only got a few seconds left.”
He had to be playing her. “Oh, but you won’t just send them anyway?”
“I won’t.”
“What? I’m just supposed to take your word for that?”
Shrugging, Alex smiled with the confidence of a man used to playing hardball, and just enough of a smartass smirk to sink her gut. He had her.
Unlocking her hands, Natasha made a break for the door. Fuck him. Determined, she grabbed the handle.
But the warm thought of ten thousand dollars in her grasp stopped her from turning the cold metal doorknob. It’s ten thousand dollars. Fine. I’ll fuck him. Or let him fuck me and pray the son of a bitch doesn’t fuck me over.
“Staying?” he asked, waving the stack at her hypnotically.
Frowning, she nodded.
“Then let’s get started. There’s something I’ve been meaning to try.” His mind seemed to turn as he said the words, as if he’d only just considered it. “And, well, it’s a little different from what women usually do for me.” With a chuckle, he huffed. “I mean, it’s a lot different from what women usually do for me.”
Great. Rolling her eyes, Natasha asked, “No NDA?”
A knowing half smile curled his mouth. She was getting used to the way it sprouted a dimple, but the bump in her heart rate still caught her off guard.
“There’s my little business major talking again. In my world, nondisclosure agreements aren’t worth the paper they’re written on. People always want to blab. It’s like you just can’t trust anyone anymore.”
His devious grin widened across his face as he caught her gaze. “But I trust you, Natasha. Besides, even if you told everyone about all the little deeds you and I would be sharing, there isn’t a person on the planet who’d believe you. I’m not even sure I’d believe you.” His uncertain shrug was joined by a wink.
Rolling up his sleeves, he tugged off the tie he’d loosened moments ago. His eyes wandered her body but didn’t hold the remotest look of lust. He might as well have been a physician as he said, “Remove your clothes, but keep your bra and panties on.” Until he reconsidered, dropping his gaze to her feet. “Louboutins?”
“Yes.” The tone of her response wasn’t the usual pride that rang out when she acknowledged the genius master of a shoe designer. Instead, it was an uncomfortable syllable, questioning and afraid.