Page 8 of Bought (BOUGHT TRILOGY #1)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Lucian

The knock is timid, like she’s afraid the man behind the door will bite.

She’s smart. I do. But only in the way that will leave marks on her breasts and aching for me.

I make her wait a beat. Part cruelty, part penance for making me want her.

She’s there in the coat I bought her—a radiant queen, chin high, eyes steely. The coat fits perfectly.

She shrugs it off her shoulders, and the room warms up a bit. “Thanks for the gift.”

Then she stands there, shifting her weight while trying to fake a confidence she doesn’t really have. She wants me to notice her. I seize the moment.

Silver clings to her like spilled moonlight, a tight dress that doesn’t ask for permission. A faint sliver of light-blue lace peeks at her shoulder—a bra strap—and I don’t need imagination to finish the set. Blue like her eyes. Chosen on purpose.

Chosen, for me.

“You’re late,” I say, even though she isn’t.

“Traffic,” she answers, even though there wasn’t.

God, I’ve missed the sound of that voice.

Her chin is raised like a fighter's, but her hands betray her nerves. She keeps switching the coat from one arm to the other, as if she can’t decide whether she’s staying or running.

I step back. She passes by me with measured steps. She’s pretending to feel comfortable in the dress, the room, and with me.

The pretending is loud.

She’s never been with a man before. Not like this. And she’s expecting tonight to be that night.

“You look lost,” I say.

“You’re lost,” she counters.

“How can I be lost?” I ask. “This is my place.”

Placing a hand on her cocked hip, she glances around. “I thought this was my place.”

“It can be.” Fuck. I run a hand over the back of my neck. Where the hell did that come from?

Instead of running for the door, my mistake seems to put her at ease.

Her eyes sparkle. “I’ll let you know when I’ll be taking over the lease.”

“I don’t get to stay?”

“Uh-uh.” She shakes her head, dark waves of her hair brushing over her shoulder. “Sorry. There wouldn’t be enough room for all my strays.”

“People or animals?” I ask.

Her gaze falters. She has a lot of responsibility on her mind.

She looks down at the coat. “Where do I put this?”

“On your body every time you leave the house in this weather.”

The tone I use makes her freeze. I reach out, brushing a knuckle over her cool cheek before I take the coat. Crossing the room, I fold it over the back of a brown leather barstool. “You didn’t drop this one on the floor. Does it mean you like it?”

“I love it,” she whispers. She adjusts her tone and clears her throat. “Thank you. I’d forgotten mine.”

I don’t usually drink because I hate feeling out of control. Still, there’s a well-stocked bar in this apartment, near a bay of windows overlooking the city. It’s my favorite spot here. At night, with the lights on, the view makes everything feel alive.

I walk behind the bar. “Drink?”

“Sure.” She walks over and sits on the empty stool next to her coat. “What are my options?”

“If you want something good, I have wine. If you want something better, scotch.” I hold up a bottle that costs more than my first car did.

She hesitates slightly. “Water, please,” she says. “Ice if you have it.”

“Water it is.” I serve her first, with plenty of ice, then pour some scotch into an empty glass. I take a sip, craving the warmth as I try to gauge her mood.

“Rules,” I say. “Let’s get those straight.”

“You’re the one who broke them,” she shoots back, then blushes and looks away.

The damn kiss.

That's why we’re here.

I lean on the bar, not touching her. “You set the pace. You tell me if you want to stop, and we stop. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Her fingers tighten around the glass. “I’m not pretending.”

I tip my head. “You can lie better. I’ve seen it.”

Hand in the air, glass halfway to her mouth, she freezes. “When have I lied?”

“When you marched in here that first night, like you were made of steel, when you had to be terrified.”

“I wasn’t scared. Not really.” She exhales, relaxing.

“You don’t need to be tonight.” I take another sip. “I’m not going to take anything from you that you don’t want to give freely.”

She stares at me.

“You have to be honest with me. And more importantly, be honest with yourself. Understand?”

She looks away. “And what if I don’t know what I want?”

“You’ll know. Trust me.”

She gives a shaky laugh. “Arrogant.”

I lean across the bar, capturing her chin and forcing her to look at me. “Accurate.”

If I lean in a little, I’d be close enough to kiss her. She watches me with parted lips, our breath mixing. My eyes are drawn to the promise of blue lace peeking out from her neckline.

I run a finger over the curve of her breast, just above where the lace kisses. “Did you wear this for me?”

She shivers. Doesn’t answer.

Dragging my finger higher, I follow the curve of her neck. I reach for her face, cupping her chin, and force her to meet my gaze. “Only do what you want. Do you understand?”

She waits a moment, finally taking a breath. “Yes, Lucian.”

There it is. My name on her tongue. I’ll be hearing it in my mind on repeat for days.

Her phone rings, which seems to happen often. My hand drops to the cool marble bar as concern flickers in her eyes, darting toward the sound.

I ask, “Do you need to answer that?”

“I do.” She pops off her stool, digging her phone from her coat pocket. “Be right back.”

Who could be calling her? I give her a tight gaze. “You can’t take it in here?”

A slow flush creeps up her throat. She hates that it shows. One hand grips her ringing phone, the other raises her glass to her lips. She tilts her water and swallows as if the liquid will grow into armor from the inside out.

She clears her throat. “Do you listen in on all your guests?”

“I don’t have guests.” I let the truth hang in the air between us. “I have appointments. And they’re professionals. They know to turn their phones off.”

“So what am I?” she eyes me.

Sheer perfection?

I clear my throat. “Take the coat.”

She hesitates, weighing whether to obey. My jaw tightens with impatience. I give her a look, the kind a man directs at a woman who’s yet to be tamed.

And she takes the coat.

“I really do love it. Thank you.” She spins on her heel and hurries toward the door, answering her phone with a breathless, “Hello?” Something on the other end of that phone instantly stops her.

She stands there, her hand frozen on the doorknob, but she doesn't open the door yet.

She’s hiding something. And the person on that phone?

They terrify her.