Richer Than God - Amelia Wilde Page 0,5

and far more interested in looking at her.

She’s gorgeous. A doll come to life. Hair in luscious waves the color of sand kissed by the sun. Huge green eyes flecked with little chips of sparkle, like diamonds. But her eyes are not the most arresting thing about her. Not by far.

It’s that she’s giving me absolutely nothing.

Nothing.

Not excitement. Not fear. What the fuck is she feeling? A long look into her eyes reveals nothing. She stares straight ahead, as if I’m not even here. I spent most of my waking hours reading women, getting their worth out of them, and this one?

A closed book.

A book with uncut pages, wrapped in locks and chains.

I hate it.

Her lips part. “If you’re going to look any longer, you could at least pay me for my time.”

The rest of the room goes silent. Out the corner of my eye, I can see Reya’s hand frozen above the ledger, her mouth open in shock. It takes quite a bit to shock her, since she’s been with me so long, and the ripple moves through her and into the other women, who shift and titter and wait for me to react.

To retaliate.

“Take them out, Reya. Show them their new rooms. We’re done here.”

All of them start to file toward the door, but I hook a hand around her elbow and stop her. This woman. This alluring, irritating woman. Reya hustles the rest of the girls out into the hall. She leaves the door open—a silent sign of trust. Reya, the poor thing, has come to the mistaken belief that I’m not as dangerous as I used to be. I’ll let her keep believing it for the moment.

“Is this part of the interview then?” She crosses her arms, and I slip my fingers between them to pull them down.

“It’s an inspection, sweetheart. And I don’t think you’ve passed.”

I circle her closely and breathe her in. She smells like cheap shampoo and something sweet, which is at odds with the fire in her eyes and the games she’s playing. Cheap shampoo, but her skin is flawless, and her little bra and panty set looks new. She didn’t wander in off the streets. A mystery. I loathe mysteries. I only just finished my unwilling participation in another one involving my fucked-up foster brother and his new plaything. That fool.

I should show this woman the door. And yet….

“Why not?” She’s trying to keep me in her line of sight, but I make it hard, because I might act like a benevolent dictator, but inside I am a consummate asshole. A monster. “Am I not pretty enough for you?”

“Men will want you sweet and compliant. Stand still.”

She does, but I can tell it’s difficult from the way she tenses. I stroke a hand over the naked skin of her belly. Nothing shows on her face, even now, and I am so fucking tempted to make it happen that it feels like my blood has caught fire. “I’ll spread my legs. What more do you want?”

I brush my fingers up to the tiny bow in the center of her bra and higher, seeking out the delicate flesh underneath her chin. She lifts it for me, and fuck, I’m pulled into her, stepping far inside her personal bubble until the front of my suit makes contact with the skin of her back. I only mean to kiss the side of her jaw, touch it with my lips, really, but at the last moment, she turns her head and kisses me first.

It’s brief, glancing, her eyes fluttering shut for the shortest surrender I have ever seen.

A spark.

A single match in the night.

A thrill.

I let go on instinct—hot—and marvel at this development. My heart has gone out of rhythm, racing, getting ahead of me. That’s what they mean when they say thrill. A lifting sensation, like hurling oneself off a cliff and into miles of open air. What the fuck? The sensation is unsettling yet familiar. I’ve felt it before, but not in a long time.

She turns her head away, putting an inch between us, and looks toward the door, a slight color to her cheeks and a hitch in her breath the only evidence of the jolt that’s left my skin sizzling.

I’m going to keep her.

It’s a rash decision, but sometimes there are only rash decisions. This one seems monumental, earth-shaking, even though the building stands and I do not fall.

No one will touch her until I’ve had my fill of her. None of