Maybe this is it. He’s a serial killer, and I’m going to end up chained in a basement.
“Welcome to my home,” he said, opening a door to an apartment on the eighth floor.
I was breathing hard after walking up all those stairs and tried not to be too obvious as I wheezed for breath.
You need to cut back on the chili cheese fries.
“This is cozy,” I said charitably, trying to pull myself together, and looked around. It was dingy and tiny.
“It’s crowded when all my roommates are here,” Chris said cheerfully, heading over to a window and pulling open the blinds.
“Killer view though,” I said. “My apartment has a view of a cinderblock wall.”
“Put up some mirrors,” Chris suggested.
“No, like it’s literally a wall two inches from my window. Someone goofed when they were building the apartment next door.” I rested my elbows on the windowsill and peered out over the skyline. “I wish I had this view.”
“This doesn’t bother you?” Chris asked me, head slightly tilted.
“The apartment?”
He shrugged. “Everything? I have no money, live in a crappy place, you had to buy my drinks—”
I gave him a wry smile. “I think escorts who look like you probably go for like five hundred dollars a night at least.”
“So you just want to sleep with me.”
“I mean, yeah?” I said. “It’s not like we’re getting married or anything.”
“Why, because I don’t have any money?” Chris demanded.
Aaaand of course this guy is nuts.
Just keep him calm.
I started edging slowly toward the door, turning up my customer-service persona to a thousand. Chris was the bride’s elderly doddering aunt who wanted to know why she was seated next to the cousin that had stolen their grandmother’s prized ashtray. And I had to talk her down from going after the woman with a fish knife.
“It’s not about the money,” I said soothingly. “We don’t even know each other. Though I’d totally like to!”
Not.
“You seem like a great guy who likes the simple life. I appreciate that.”
Chris visibly relaxed as I took another shuffle toward the door.
“Good,” he said and nodded to himself. “You’ll do great.”
I took another shuffle.
Chris removed his sweater.
I paused mid shuffle to drool at the washboard abs, the bulging biceps, and the pecs that I wanted to run my hands over.
“I have condoms in my purse,” I blurted out as he undid his pants.
He gave me that sexy grin.
“I have something better than a hookup.” He threw the pants on the floor.
He might not have been thinking about sex, but I sure was. This was the closest I’d been to a naked man since a July wedding where the bride had insisted on a life-sized ice sculpture of a nearly nude Chris Hemsworth as her centerpiece.
I made a strangled noise. “Better than sex?”
Chris took two steps across the tiny room to wrap an arm around my waist and guide me to the window.
“See that building?” he asked, breath hot in my ear.
“Uh—”
Crap, I wanted him.
“The pizza place?”
“No, the tower, the big one—all glass and lights with the sweet penthouse on top,” he said, deep voice reverberating through my chest.
I nodded.
“I own that.”
I felt his lips brush my ear as he smiled.
“Okay?”
Chris laughed and stepped away from me.
“You don’t believe me,” he stated.
“Dude, I just wanted to hook up with you. I have like a thousand pictures to edit. Are you game or not?”
“You get right to the point. I like that.” He walked over to the rickety wardrobe in the corner of the room and opened it. I expected it to be bursting with stuff, but it only held a very nice suit, imported Italian leather shoes, and a crisp white shirt laid out neatly.
Chris pulled on an undershirt then the starched dress shirt.
“I own it for real. I also own this building, of course,” he said as he pulled the pants on, “but it’s not nearly as impressive.”
And people say women are complicated. All I want to do is get laid, and this guy is a ball of insecurity and clearly some flavor of mentally ill.
“Grace, seriously, I’m a billionaire. I run a hedge fund,” he continued, wrapping a silk tie around his neck.
“Then why do you live here?” I blurted out, still not believing what was happening.
Chris chuckled. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t a gold digger. I appreciated that you run your own business and work hard. I don’t want some woman in my life who’s just going to mooch off my money.” He fastened his