He ignored her jibe. “Does your sister-in-law need a nurse or a nanny during your absence? If so, I’ll provide it. I have no desire to leave them in a bind.”
Guilt stabbed her. Gia softened. “Thank you. That’s generous of you.”
“Not at all. I don’t want you spending our time together thinking about anyone else.”
Of course not. And Jason was used to getting his way.
Gia stifled her guilt. “I’ll talk to Mila tonight.”
“Whatever she needs so she can manage without you for a few weeks, she’ll get. Are we understood?”
The concept wasn’t difficult. Jason had bought her until November twenty-fourth, and she’d let him. Though she’d chosen this path of her own free will, it made her feel dirty. “Yes.”
He nodded at her. Then the conversation ceased, and he dug into his food. Gia stared at her salad. Her stomach roiled too much to take a bite. She picked at the greens and plucked at the grilled chicken, thinking about tomorrow night. How long would it take him to wholly own her body and heart again? An hour, or could she actually manage to hold out an entire night?
“You’re not eating.”
“I had a late lunch,” she lied.
He set down his fork slowly. “Do you remember what I do to subs who aren’t honest with me?”
Orgasm deprivation—hours and hours of it. Her sex tightened. Heat crawled up her cheeks. Even on an olive-skinned Italian girl, the blush would be impossible to miss.
“I see that you do.” Jason looked satisfied. “The sensual torture last time will seem minor compared to what I’ll do tomorrow night if you don’t tell me the truth now.”
Gia gritted her teeth. Until tonight, they’d never even had an argument. She’d just willingly fallen under his spell and into his embrace. Trying to resist Jason now was as futile as it was arousing.
“All right, then. I was nervous when I walked in and now I’m sick to my stomach that I let you buy me, even for a few weeks.”
With a cynical curl of his lips, he lifted his beer and toasted her. “Everyone has their price, Gia. I just found yours.”
Chapter Three
Gia tried to breathe through her nerves as she arrived at Jason’s condo the next night. The mountain of lies she’d told her family still scalded her with shame. They wouldn’t understand. Mila would tell her not to compromise herself. Her parents would be disappointed that she’d sold her morals and her body, even briefly. Her brother, if he’d been here, would have gone after Jason with cocked fists and a loaded semiautomatic.
Fabricating excuses had been far better for everyone.
As she stepped off the glass elevator that gave her aerial views of the city stretching on forever, she crept into a foyer with a water feature cascading down a glass wall. His door stood to the left. Gripping her suitcase in her hand, she glanced at her phone. Three minutes until six. One hundred eighty seconds to decide how the hell she was going to leave in eighteen days with her sanity and her heart intact. Of course, she’d had nearly twenty-four hours to ruminate on that problem. She’d come up with absolutely nothing.
Gia focused on his imposing black wood and wrought iron door, but couldn’t make her feet move. Her belly clamped. Her heart stuttered. She tried to convince herself that she could handle this, but the mental pep talk wasn’t working.
To her shock, the door opened suddenly, and Jason stood there in jeans, a long-sleeved jersey knit top in midnight blue, bare feet, and that triumphant hint of a smile she wanted to slap off his face.
“You’re on time. Very good.” He stepped back to admit her. As she entered with leaden legs, he glanced at her suitcase that had seen better days. “Is that all you brought?”
Had he expected her to bring her whole closet? “You gave me the impression I wasn’t going to need many clothes.”
“You won’t.” He shut the door behind her and took her bag. “I don’t have many ground rules while you’re here. Anything you see in the kitchen you want, take it. Don’t leave the building without consulting me. I’ve got a heated pool on the deck outside our bedroom. There’s a full gym downstairs. You’re welcome to use either as you’d like. No work while you’re here, especially on your brother’s case. We’ll discuss any family emergencies together as they arise. When we’re sceneing, you will call me Mr. Denning. Is anything I’ve said confusing?”
“No.” She supposed that since she hadn’t seen or knelt for him in nearly a year, he no longer wanted her to call him Master. That was just fine. That slash of pain didn’t mean a damn thing.
To avoid staring at him, she eyed his personal space. The expanse of a two-story wall of windows was unbroken by a drape or blind. Then again, why bother? Who could peek in on them this high up?
“Nice shoes.” He glanced down at her dressiest T-strap black heels. “What three garments did you choose to wear with them?”
His high-handed attitude made her feel like a piece of merchandise. Gia tried to keep a grip on her temper. Was he punishing her for the last year or was she seeing the real Jason Denning now that he had no reason to woo her?
“Hello to you, too. My day was hectic. How about yours?”