that even matter? If I had a sex toy? Some massive dildo? I don't, but if I did, would I still be a virgin? I use tampons and I—"
"Slow down."
She nods. Swallows hard. Looks me in the eyes. "What exactly do you want?"
Chapter Twelve
Eve
What exactly do you want?
The words echo around the room. They bounce off the big glass walls. Sink into my skin.
Despite the steady hum of the air-conditioning, it's warm in here. Hot even.
Or maybe that's the ache between my legs.
The emptiness that only he can fill.
It's ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous. I barely know him. And even then, I know I shouldn't take anything at face value.
The man is a former intelligence operative.
He's still in intelligence. Only now it's for businesses, not his country.
My brain refuses to care.
It fixes on his deep eyes, his broad shoulders, his tattooed chest.
Thin black lines. Words. A Latin quote maybe.
What suits him?
And why am I so eager to trace the lines?
Addie would say duh, Evie, you have a type. Have you ever dated a guy who wasn't in a band?
And I'd ask her not to use a nickname for a Pokémon. And we'd get into a whole thing about which Evie evolution is best. And why can't all problems feel this trivial?
I don't mind when she calls me Evie. Only that one time. When her voice was fading and her grip was weak.
Right now, the ugly memory is far away. Fuzzy.
Right now, the words echoing around the room are my entire world.
Ian holds that same poker face. He's infinitely collected. Impossibly collected.
His dark eyes stay fixed on me. Reading me. Seeing everything I keep secret.
I swallow hard.
"I want you." His voice is as even as his posture. "I want to be the first to have you. The rest of the specifics are negotiable."
"Okay." Where is my water? Where can I put my hands? I unfold and refold them. Try to project confidence. He's an ex-spy with more money than God. I'm a broke girl who haggles poorly at the flea market. I'm in over my head and I can't let it show.
"I make arrangements with a lot of women."
"You pay them?"
"No." His eyes pass over me again. Slowly. With a hunger that makes my thighs shake. "I told myself I never would."
"You never would—"
"Pay a woman for sex."
"Oh." Wheels in my brain turn. Rich, handsome, with all the information in the world… and usually unwilling to pay for sex. Either he's in dire need of a virgin. Or he truly wants to stop the doctor. Or it's something about me.
"I understand your predicament."
"What about it?"
"You looked into me." His voice shifts. A firmer tone. More business.
I nod. "I didn't hire a PI or anything, but I did some digging."
"It's amazing, how much information is easy to find. If you do hire an investigator, I'm sure you'll find things that unsettle you. There's plenty in my past." He folds one leg over the other. Leans back into the couch. "I won't mince words. I know you're broke. I know your sister spent time in an inpatient facility—"
"That's none of your business."
"Maybe. If you ask, I won't look further. But no crying over spilled milk."
Easy for him to say.
"You're a strong girl, Eve. I can tell. I don't want you to waste your potential serving pissed arseholes for the next decade."
"It's my potential."
"You're right. Your potential. None of my business. But I assume you're here to negotiate a price. Not lecture me on paternalism."
Damn, is he reading my mind? I have no comeback for that.
I want to lecture him for acting like my goddamn father… but I am here to negotiate. I can deal with a bossy know-it-all if he covers our expenses.
Deep breath. Slow exhale. Utmost confidence. "You still haven't told me what you want."
He reaches for his glass. "I want you. For one month." He takes a long sip. "For thirty days, you'll be mine. To use however I see fit. At the end, we say goodbye, we part, we never see each other again."
Okay… "What if I want to see you again?"
"Are you getting into tech?"
"Maybe."
"Then you will. I'm not going to banish you to another state."
"Thank God. I can't move to Jersey." The joke fails to lighten the mood.
He smiles anyway. "I won't ask you to leave the city. It's more that… once our arrangement ends, it ends. No friendship or booty calls or future help."
"Booty calls?"
"Do you have a new term for it? What were people saying? Netflix and chill?"
My