Then the furniture starts to arrive. There’s a new mattress for each room. The delivery men bring them right in and haul away the old, sagging ones. Leather sofas for the living room, along with a solid wood entertainment center and bookcase for my textbooks.
A desk follows, along with a sleek white package that looks suspiciously like…
A gorgeous new laptop.
It’s powerful, too. Built to the highest specifications available. This can beat anything in the twenty-four-hour computer lab, that’s for sure.
There is no return label on anything. No address to send things back to him, or even to send a thank-you note. It’s by chance that I come home early from class one afternoon to find his driver hauling in more boxes. I’m afraid to know what’s inside them.
Valentina meets him by the door, a wide smile on her pretty face. “James.”
James? That sounds awfully cozy. I’m not sure how to feel about that. “What’s this?” I ask.
“Ma’am,” he says to me with a polite nod. “I’ll stay out of your way. I’m just installing the new security system.”
My mouth drops open. “You can’t install that here. We’re renting.”
“Midas got special permission from the landlord.”
“Of course he did.” And probably bribed him for the privilege. “That man is so high handed; I don’t even know what to do. He’d probably hire a security guard if I didn’t… He already did, didn’t he? God.”
James the driver has the grace to look abashed. “I couldn’t say.”
My sister looks at him, her expression adoring. I’m torn between finding it sweet and being frustrated. She’s supposed to be focused on her freshman year of foreign language studies. Not falling for a man several years older than her.
She’s not the only one.
I’m supposed to be focused on my senior year of computer engineering, not falling for a man who thinks he can buy his way into everything.
Even if his gifts are actually painfully sweet.
“You drove here, right?” I ask James.
He gives a reluctant nod, as if he knows where this is going.
“Then you can drive me to him. We have some things to discuss.”
7
Raoul
I’m going through a fifty-seven-page contract for a relatively simple acquisition. The business is going under. I can buy it, build it up, and sell it for ten times this price.
I should be focused on what I’m reading, but my mind is on refrigerators. Who knew there were so many options? I’ve been researching them to find the best one to send. What I don’t like, however, is that only a few will fit into the small alcove in their kitchen. The higher-end ones are basically out of the equation.
That makes me wonder if I can do some minor construction in their kitchen. All we need is a couple of extra feet to put in a wide chef-quality fridge.
The owner will be amenable once I increase their bribe money.
Then again, I may just put in an offer to buy the apartments. Then I could make all the changes I want to their apartment and the security without having to check with anyone.
A text comes in. Ms. Washington is with me.
Anticipation runs through me, sharp and hot. Along with lust.
I’m unable to focus on the words and numbers in front of me in the forty-five minutes it will take for the Bentley to arrive. What is she going to think about the empty fortress that is my office building? Nothing good. Not after seeing the home she created for her sisters with so little.
My phone vibrates, and I know before I reach the window that she’s arriving in front of the office. Security already knows to escort her to my private elevator.
Then she’s standing there in a loose gold shirt that shows her shoulder and purple strap of a bra, skinny jeans showing off incredible legs. She’s perfectly casual. It doesn’t matter that I’m wearing a five-thousand-dollar bespoke suit; I’m ready to drop to my knees. Instead, I stand with my hands behind my back while she strolls the long hallway, stopping at each canvas.
Gold and red. Gold and black. Gold and green.
Large swaths of paint, angry slashes of a man trying to find some sense of worth.
She looks at me, and she knows. “You painted these.”
I don’t bother to deny the accusation. It’s something I do between signing contracts and initiating takeovers. Something I do when I’m not making money.
And here’s the irony, the fucking irony.
The paintings sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars at a small gallery. Even anonymous, I can’t stop making money. It’s the only thing I can do. I can’t make a home.
I can’t love a woman.
Anita stops in front of me, so young and so wise at the same time. Those molten brown eyes threaten to drown me. They threaten to know me. She holds out sheets of paper.
I take the stack and rifle through them.
A ledger. I’ve written enough of them in my life to recognize one.
Three king size pillow-top mattresses.
One brand new Acura MDX.
Three years of tuition in a college fund for NYU.
The list goes on and on. There are amounts written next to every item.
Her fists land on her hips. “There’s a reason why I worked for Madam Durand.”
The thought of her with another man makes my insides tighten. I want to smash anyone who looks at her into the goddamn wall, but I know I have no rights over her. “And what’s that?”
“So that I wouldn’t be in debt. But with this list, I’m going to be in debt for years. Maybe even decades, if you add interest.”
“There’s no interest, because there’s been no loan.”
“These can’t be gifts.”
“Why not?”
A flare of sweet, angry emotion on her pretty face. “Because you don’t even know me. You’re basically a stranger.”
“I know you have a mole on your left ass cheek. I know you moan when you come. I know how your mouth feels when it’s wrapped around my—”
“That’s just sex.”
I give her an empty smile. “Sex is the only thing I know, sweetheart.”
A notch forms between her eyes. “That’s sad.”
“No. Having the best sex of my life isn’t sad. Selling yourself so you and your sisters have a future? That’s sad. So I’m making sure that never has to happen again.”
“We haven’t had sex yet.”
“A technicality. And even with that much, you were the best I’ve ever had.”
Her eyes soften. “Why couldn’t you approach me with all this?”
“Would you have assumed I wanted to fuck you again?”
“Don’t you?”
Direct hit. “That’s not why I sent those gifts.”
She gives a shy laugh. “I did want you to call me again. I even told Madam Durand I would accept another job from you. Only you.”
My chest squeezes. “I see.”
“But you didn’t call her. You just sent James to flirt with my sister.”
Hell. “I’ll tell him to back the hell off.”
“Why? Is he dangerous? Cruel?” She challenges me with her chin high. “Or just a player?”