Gulp.
This whole night has been a clusterfuck of epic proportions. First the groper in the pinstripe suit, then the standoff with the guards, now the playboy billionaire with some weird tendency to channel his inner Lancelot like I’m a freaking damsel in distress… and, just so I have something to look forward to, later I’ll have Miriam to deal with.
By this point there is a zero percent chance that she hasn’t noticed my absence, which means I’ll probably have to cut and run without finishing the job — not ideal, since if a breach is ever discovered in the LC network, they’ll be much more likely to suspect responsibility lies with the cater-waiter who conveniently disappeared after the first half of her shift. To add insult to injury, I won’t even get paid for the two hours I spent schlepping trays and fending off lewd advances.
“Listen, just tell me what you want so we can get this over with,” I say, trying to sound like I’m in control and not about to defy national health statistics by having a heart attack at the ripe old age of twenty-four.
“What I want?” he asks in a precariously gentle tone.
“Yes.” I take a breath that does nothing to steady me. “To keep quiet about this.”
“Why would you assume I want something?”
“Everyone wants something.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
“Well, what I want is to not be be indebted to you.” I jerk my chin up. “I don’t want to owe anyone anything. Ever.”
There’s a pause as he weighs my words and I get the sense he’s trying to figure me out. I could save him the time — tell him I’m a puzzle with so many missing pieces he’d be better off throwing the whole damn thing in the trash — but I don’t waste my breath.
“Have you considered the possibility…” he says after a while, his voice full of gravel. “…that I might want something you don’t want to give me?”
“I…” I swallow. “I can give you money. Not upfront, but I could pay you in installments… or… something…” I finish weakly, watching him take another step toward me.
Three feet.
“I don’t want your money.”
“I could upgrade your computer system,” I offer, shuffling backward until my spine hits the tile wall.
He shakes his head, amused.
“Walk your dog?”
His eyes spark with humor. “Don’t have a dog, darling.”
“Water your plants when you’re out of town?”
“Do I look like the kind of guy who keeps a garden of delicate orchids?”
No. No, he does not.
He looks like the kind of guy who’d only ever see a flower if he decided to fuck you senseless in a field of wild daisies, just because he felt like it.
My mouth feels suddenly dry. When I speak, my words crack. “Then what do you want?”
His eyes flare with something dangerous. Something that makes my palms start to sweat and my legs press a little tighter together.
“I don’t think you want to know,” he whispers.
I agree. I definitely don’t want to know.
We’re silent for a long, heated moment, both waiting for the other to say something.
“Aren’t you going to ask me?” I blurt, unable to stop myself. I clamp my lips shut as soon as the words are out, instantly regretting my lapse of control.
“Ask you what?” The humor in his stare has heated into something else entirely. “About your little Jane Bond act, with the costume change?”
I swallow my words when he takes another step closer and give a small nod of affirmation.
Two feet left.
“No,” he murmurs. His eyes are fixed on my lips and suddenly my lungs feel too tight, like someone’s sucked all the air out of them. “I’m not going to ask when I know you won’t tell me.”
I don’t say anything, partly because he’s right but mostly because I don’t think I’m capable of coherent words, at the moment.
“You don’t know me. You don’t trust me.” He pauses and I see something in his eyes — the thrill of a challenge. I hear the echo of unspoken words humming in the air between us.
Not yet. But you will someday.
I push the strange thought away.
He takes that final step, until the space between us has all but disappeared. We’re not touching, but our faces are so close if I rise onto my tiptoes we’ll be kissing.
“What are you doing?” I breathe, pressing tight against the wall.
His eyes drag away from my mouth. Our stares clash like swords on a battlefield.
“I’m taking what I want.”
Before I can blink, his mouth claims mine.