His smile spread wider and more wicked. "So you did get my video. You never answered."
"I was busy." I licked my lips. His gaze dipped to my mouth, his body gravitating closer, but I placed a hand against his chest, stopping him. "I actually wanted to discuss something Demi brought up."
He let out a sigh, moving away slightly and running a hand over his facial hair. "Yeah, I figured you would." He took a long sip, then placed the bottle down on the counter. He laid his palms on my bare thighs, and I shivered at the cold from his cider bottle. "Ask away, Princess. I don't have anything left to hide from you."
I bit my lip, suddenly nervous. "Well, that's comforting," I muttered, somewhat sarcastically. "That certainly implies there's a bucketload that I don't know, but I just haven't asked the right questions."
His grin returned, and his fingers flexed against my skin. "I love that you read between my lines so easily. But you don't need to know all my dark and dirty past right now, do you?"
I arched a brow. "Don't I?"
"Nope," he confirmed. "Because we have the rest of our lives to learn those things, and none of it would change how you feel about me right now."
My heart sped faster. The rest of our lives?
"Oh yeah?" I couldn't help pushing him. "And how do I feel about you now, Archer D'Ath?"
His hands gripped my thighs, parting them and pulling me to the edge of the counter. My legs hugged his hips, and he dipped his face to feather a teasing kiss over my lips. "I think you know, Kate. You're just too stubborn to say it out loud."
I love you.
"Or maybe you're wrong," I countered, full of bullshit. "Maybe this is just a bit of fun and the second I have my shit handled, I'll take off into the sunset with my diamond fortune and never give you a second thought."
Archer let out a low, dangerous chuckle. His hand left my thigh and wrapped around my throat as his lips brushed my earlobe.
"You run, and I'll chase you, Princess." With his tight grip on my throat, he brought my lips to his for a kiss hot enough to set my panties on fucking fire. His teeth grabbed at my lower lip, biting me hard enough to draw a little blood and make me pant like a bitch in heat.
Archer laughed again, releasing my throat before he skated his fingers down to my wet-ass pussy. "But something tells me you'd get off on that, huh?"
"Fuck you," I replied, but it came out sounding a whole damn lot like a plea, not an insult. It didn't help that my cunt was already aching and my nipples were tight. Damn him for being right.
Archer just grinned, and stroked me through my panties. "So, what did you want to discuss? I'm guessing it has to do with the financial transaction with your father."
My breath shuddered, and I tried to find my train of thought. Easier said than done with Archer teasing me like he was. "Yeah. You paid fifty-two million dollars for me?"
His expression didn't change. "I did."
"Is that the going rate when a debt-crippled businessman sells his underage daughter?" The whole concept made me sick, but Samuel Danvers would get his the next time our paths crossed.
Archer shook his head slightly. "Not even close." His jaw tensed, and he stopped teasing me through my panties. Instead, his hands rested lightly on my thighs. "There is no going rate. Every sale is unique and will attract a unique set of bidders. But if you're asking the average purchase price? Anywhere from one to twenty million isn't uncommon. Much less in the mainstream human trafficking rings, but the market your father intended to place you in caters to a specific clientele."
I swallowed hard. It was a lot to wrap my head around. "What do you mean by that?"
Archer shrugged. "Heiresses, celebrities, models—basically anyone of a certain status in society. People who would be noticed if they just up and disappeared. People who are easily controlled, despite their public profile."
I shook my head, hardly believing what I was hearing. Archer wasn't being an asshole about it; he was just that desensitized. That jaded toward such a vile underbelly of the one percent.
"So why pay so much?" I asked him, my voice rough with emotions that I desperately shoved aside. So many what-if scenarios crowded my brain whenever I thought about the fact that my father had sold me... but they did me no good. What-ifs held no weight in my present because none of them had come to be. Archer had been the one who’d purchased me. Archer had been the one to save me.
He dragged his thumb over his lower lip, and took a moment before he responded. "It was personal."
My brows rose. "Oh? How so? Fifty-two million dollars is a hell of a lot of money, Arch."
A small smile touched his lips. "You hardly ever shorten my name like that. I think you're going soft on me, baby girl."
I rolled my eyes. "Shut up and answer the question, asshole." He cocked a brow at me, and I stifled a frustrated growl, knowing damn well what he was about to say. "Just answer the question," I amended.
His eyes searched mine for a moment, then he ran a hand over his hair and let out a pained sound. "Alright, but before I answer, I need to tell you something. Okay?"
Nervousness fluttered in my stomach. That didn't sound good.
"Okay," I replied, intrigued as hell, even though I was dreading what he might say.
His fingers ruffled his inky hair again, then his hands dropped back to my thighs and his gaze held mine. "I love you, Kate. I've been in love with you for a really long time, but I just needed you to smack my own stubborn bullshit out of the way before I could see the truth of it."
There was nothing but sincerity and—fuck—love in his gaze, which only made my heart race faster.
"Now I'm really worried," I whispered back, not brave enough to blink for fear of losing this moment between us. "Answer the question, Archer. Why did you pay fifty-two million dollars to buy me?"
His eyes tightened a fraction in a wince. "Because I knew it would piss you off."
What the—
"If it's any consolation, I also wanted to save you. I couldn't stand the thought of one of those other revolting, depraved fucks on the exchange buying you, owning you, doing whatever the fuck their sick fetishes demanded. But yeah, my first thought was how furious you'd be when you found out, and I liked that." He didn't look pleased by his own confession, but he did look honest.
That was something, I supposed.
"Why?" I asked, for lack of any other coherent thoughts. "Why did you want to piss me off? What did I do that hurt you so much?"
Despite my irritation at his motives, I couldn't deny how he'd inserted himself into the very fiber of my being. He was tattooed on my damn soul, and he owned a third of my heart. At this stage, there wasn't much I wouldn't forgive him for.
I was so totally screwed.
"That's the thing," he replied, looking somewhat ashamed. "You didn't do anything. Or nothing to warrant the grudge I held for so fucking long." He snagged his cider bottle again, and drained the rest of it.
"Are you deliberately killing me with suspense here?" I muttered, scowling. "Or is that just a bonus?"