Page 29 of Bought

It’s only now that I realize I’m standing, frozen like a statue, in the middle of his place. And I’m the one who should be seducing him. After all, I’m here to gain his trust. And then steal his secrets.

My stomach turns.

I cross the room as he says, “Truth for truth.”

“Truth for truth?” I blink at him, sliding back onto my barstool. “Is that a game? Or a demand?”

“Both.” A wicked grin lights up his cold, hard, too-sexy-to-turn-away-from face as he says, “You do look fun to play with.”

And the tension between us rises.

I take a breath and try to pretend my lungs aren’t constricting. “Fine. You first.”

“Who was on the phone?” His eyes are like beams, holding me in place.

Looking away, I focus on my glass. “Pass.”

“Fine.” He runs the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip. “Did you think about me when you left?”

I shift in my seat, pressing my thighs together. “Did you think about me?”

“Asked you first.”

“Clearly, I did.” I take a sip of water, hoping it’ll cool the fire he’s kindling in my core. “I’m the one who messaged you.”

“I thought about you all day,” he says, blunt and sharp, as if it made him angry, and he blames me. “More than I wanted to.”

"Is that an insult? Am I supposed to apologize?” I shoot back, “I wasn’t exactly hoping you’d take residence in my mind either. This was supposed to be simple.”

“I know.” Genuine emotion escapes his masked tone. “But it’s not. Is it?”

That’s another question, and it’s not your turn. But I owe him something for his honesty. I don’t look away. “I wore this dress because I knew you would find it sexy.”

His gaze darkens. There’s that misplaced anger. It shouldn’t excite me the way it does.

“And the blue lace bra?” he growls. “Is that for me?”

My throat works. “Maybe.”

He presses forward. “Your turn.”

I glance toward the windows, at the city glittering like temptation itself. “I don’t… do this.”

“What?”

“Date.” Something in me tenses sharply. “Do you?”

“I did.” His pause reveals an old wound. “In another lifetime. I don’t anymore.”

We’re near, but the barrier between us still keeps us apart. He takes my glass, sets it aside, and I can’t look away from his hands.

Hands that seem destined to destroy me.

But I’m coming for him.

And he has no idea.

I’m here because there’s something in this apartment that the Morettis need, but the Bachmans don’t want them to have. Something they haven’t been able to reach.