“Mr. Tarnes, I won’t get another half day until next month,” she apologized.
“What about on Labor Day, September third?” he asked. “Are you off then?”
“Yes, but…”
“Then I’ll make the appointment for you for that day. Oh, by the way, you are to fast on Thursday night. Nothing by mouth after midnight. There will be blood work on Friday.”
Lina tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. There was a question she needed to ask and didn’t quite know how to approach it with Tarnes.
“You have something on your mind, Miss Wynth?” Tarnes asked.
“The…” She swallowed. “The job is only at night, correct?”
“That’s right,” he replied.
“Nothing during the day on weekdays?”
“Only at night,” he told her then smiled. “Your job with us—should you be chosen—will not interfere with your day job.”
“Then it isn’t all evening?” she pressed. “I won’t be expected to spend the night?”
“As I understand the parameters of the position, the time you spend with my employer will vary. Would there be a problem spending the night with him?”
She winced at the thought of sleeping beside a strange man then shook her head. “It’s a matter of getting here and getting home,” she said. “I don’t have a car and the buses stop running out to my section of town around nine.”
“Oh, I see,” Tarnes said, his face falling. “That might present a problem.”
The phone rang—the same button as before flashing—and Tarnes drew in a deep breath before exhaling and picking up the receiver. “Yes sir?” He listened, nodded, the hung up. He gave her a look she couldn’t read then leaned back in his chair. “If you’re chosen, we’ll send a car for you each evening and the driver will take you home at the end of the session. Would that work?”
“Yes,” she whispered then cleared her throat, spoke louder. “Yes, that would work.”
“Excellent!” Tarnes said. “I believe that’s all for now.” He stood and extended his hand.
“That’s it?” she queried, taking his hand. “That’s all you wanted to ask me?”
“On my end, yes,” he said. “If you advance to the next level after the physical and mental evaluations, you’ll be meeting with my employer. He will have questions of his own to ask.” He released her hand and skirted the desk, holding his hand out for her to precede him to the door.
Surprised by the ease with which she’d met the first hurdle, Lina was numb as she walked to the door.
“Please be on time for the doctor appointments,” Tarnes said as he opened the portal for her. “And good luck.”
“Thank you?” she said.
“I believe that is the customary response,” he said with a grin.
On the way out of the nondescript building where no sign marked its ownership or purpose, she wondered about the man on the other end of the phone line. Obviously he was willing to make concessions to the women being interviewed for the ad, making it easier for them to be scrutinized. She paused on the sidewalk and looked up at the banks of windows blackened out with solar film. The building was four stories high and instinct told her the man on the phone was looking down at her from the top story. Her gaze zeroed in on the middle window and held. She had a feeling that was the right one and that he was standing there observing her.
Heart suddenly pounding, she tore her eyes from the window, ducked her head and struck out for the bus stop.
Chapter Three
His back was to her as she entered the office. The bright light from the long bank of windows put a halo around his body but she could tell his hair was dark brown or black and worn cropped close to his scalp. He was dressed casually in black slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He stood with his hands thrust into the pockets of his slacks and his legs braced apart. The image of a sea captain on the bridge of his ship flitted across her mind. He spoke without turning around.
“Sit down, Melina.”
He said it in such a way she thought perhaps he preferred her sitting down when he delivered the bad news that she wasn’t what he wanted but his next words negated that thought.
“You are the one I have chosen. You were selected before you ever walked through my door. That is why you are here.”
Her eyebrows quirked. She had a good ear for accents and his said either South Africa or New Zealand. Her bet was on New Zealand by the rising intonation on the last words of each sentence as well as the way he pronounced the word here as heere. His voice had a nasal quality to it that screamed masculinity.
“I don’t know your name Mr…”
“My name is unimportant. You may call me Sir.” He paused for a beat then snapped, “I told you to sit down.”
She blushed as she quickly took a seat in front of the huge desk behind which he stood. A long moment passed without him speaking and when he did, there was no inflection in the words.
“What did you think when you read the ad?”
She folded her hands in her lap. “That a very wealthy man wanted a woman with whom to have sex. I assumed—”
“You assumed what?” he asked, turning his profile to her.
The sight of his face—even a side view of it—made her heart inexplicably speed up. He was young, darkly tanned and his profile told her he would be handsome. She had to shake herself to answer.
“That he would be an older man.”
He turned and when he did she drew in a quick breath. The strong profile with the totally masculine nose and strong chin had been only the tip of the iceberg. The man was freaking gorgeous with the bluest, most piercing eyes she’d ever encountered and his deep tan accented them to perfection. His bold eyebrows and long lashes made the moisture in her mouth evaporate but another part of her body flood with dampness. The two-day stubble lining his cheeks and chin made him look dangerous—arrogantly so.
“You thought he would be an ugly, old, toothless rich man.”
Her gaze dipped to the bright silver buckle on his belt then lifted upward again and she thought his eyes had darkened a shade with faint anger.
“Not toothless but with wobbly dentures,” she said with a blush.
“Even an ugly old rich man would get dental implants, Miss Wynth,” he said with a twitch of his lips, his hands still in his pockets.
“I guess so,” she admitted. Her gaze locked on his mouth and she realized his lips were relatively thin and that the top one crooked slightly upward on the right side, the bottom slightly downward beneath it. It was the only flaw she could see in the devastatingly handsome face.
“And you would have given this ugly old rich man your virginity without a second thought?”
She shook her head. “No Sir. I thought long and hard before answering the ad.”
His probing blue eyes grabbed and held her own so she could not look away. She felt sweat gathering in her palms beneath that rigid stare. Fleetingly she thought sweaty palms were the bane of her existence, a tell she wished she didn’t have.
“You thought the matter over carefully and came to the conclusion that you might be expected to endure the fumbling, smelly, slimy touch of a decrepit old fart.”
She blushed. “Yes Sir.”
“Yet you were willing to sell yourself to such a man. Why is that?”
“Because I have need of the money that was offered. If you wish for me to tell you my reason—”
“I know precisely why you need the money, Miss Wynth. Your desire to take care of your brother was one of the reasons I chose you.” He narrowed his eyes. “What other conclusions did you make from reading the ad?”
She squirmed. “That the man who placed the ad—”
“It could have been a woman.”
“I considered that but it didn’t seem likely and when I met with Mr. Tarnes he referred to you as sir.”
He withdrew his hands from his pockets and her eyes lowered automatically to them. Th
ey looked strong, capable, with neatly manicured nails. On the ring finger of his right hand was a large silver or white gold signet ring. She swallowed hard when he parked one hip on the edge of his desk, folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head, looking at her through the picket fences of his long, dark lashes.
“In other words, only a desperate, ugly denture-wearing old rich man would place an ad like that.”
There was no humor in his question—only an intense stare that made her acutely uneasy. She wanted to look away from him but she couldn’t. It was as though he were holding her head between his hands, anchoring it, denying her freedom.
“I never considered him to be desperate.”
“Then how did you consider him?”
In the periphery of her vision she saw the muscles in his left thigh bunch as he perched on the edge of his desk. The movement broke the hold he had over her and she looked down, impressed with the thickness of that thigh and the way the black fabric of his slacks clung to it like a second skin.
“Melina?” he pressed, the word a command for attention.
Her gaze jumped back to his and she felt heat blossoming in her cheeks at his knowing look. That look said he’d caught her ogling him. “Selective,” she said then cleared her throat. “I considered him to be selective.”
Once more his lips twitched then the tip of his tongue curled over his bottom lip for just a second. That slight, unconsidered motion made her womb clench and a hot wave of moisture flooded her cunt. She tore her gaze from his mouth, saw his nostrils—then his eyes—flare before he arched a thick eyebrow.
“Oh, I am selective, Miss Wynth.”
He said nothing for a moment. His intense, piercing blue eyes bored into hers and when he spoke, she had to suppress a shiver of longing for his voice became husky, seductive and the accent more pronounced.
“Tell me, did it ever occur to you that the man who placed the ad might be—at the very least—a degenerate who enjoys hurting women? That he might be a rapist, a Satanist, even a serial killer? That once you were in his hold he could do unspeakably evil things to you? That he could sell you to a sheik who would spirit you out of the country never to be seen again? Or that after he tortured and maimed you he would throw you in a pit somewhere to rot?”
This time she could not hold back the shudder and it visibly undulated through her. She clenched her hands tightly in her lap.
“I thought about all those things but I had to believe he was none of them.”
“And you leapt to this ridiculous conclusion because?”
“He placed an ad in the paper. I’m sure he knew the police would be made aware of the ad and that they would surely investigate. That they—”
“What if he is a policeman?”
She shook her head. “Where would a policeman get that kind of money?”
He smiled slowly. “He could be on the take or he could be a mob boss for all you know.”
His smile was devastating and made her entire body clench. She was amazed she could speak after being hit with that smile. She cleared her throat.
“Or he could be a very successful businessman who likes to dominate women outside his social circle,” she countered.
“Touché.” He flexed his arms against his chest. “Go on. What else?”
“He would want to be discreet so he would not want his acquaintances to know of the woman’s existence or her identity. Paying for sex would not be something he would want known.”
“I don’t think you understand men or how they operate, Melina. Men pay for sex all the time and don’t give a damn who knows about it.”
“I wouldn’t know,” she muttered.
“My point exactly. You haven’t been around that many men in your lifetime, have you?”
“I have dated, Sir,” she said, lifting her chin.
“Dated and fucked are two different things,” he said brutally and seemed to find amusement in the way she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“I am aware of that, Sir,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Frankly I’m surprised you’ve kept your virginity this long,” he said. “Most women your age lost theirs by their sophomore year in high school.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m not that kind of woman, Sir.”
“Obviously or you wouldn’t be sitting here,” he said. “There’s no man out there writing your name on a bathroom stall.”
“Will you write mine on a bathroom wall?” she asked.
“For your information, Melina, I am not a man to boast of my sexual conquests,” he said, eyes glittering. “What I do is no one’s business other than my own and I don’t besmirch the names of the women I fuck—no matter how skanky they might be.”
She winced at his language. “Are you telling me you won’t discuss our arrangement?” she pressed.
“I don’t have to tell you anything, Melina,” he said snidely. When she started to speak, he waved her to silence. “I will not be discussing you with my friends, family, or acquaintances. On that you have my word.”
She searched his eyes and knew he meant what he said. With him, his word would be as good as gold. She started to relax until he raised the next question.
“What of the domination fantasies? What did you think that meant?”
Heat singed her cheeks. “That the gentleman would require certain sexual conditions be met.”
“Such as?”
She could barely find her voice to answer. “That we might not be alone and that we might engage in acts that could be painful or—”
He held up his hand. “Let me stop you right there. There will be no bondage, no sado-masochism, only domination. No kinky or dangerous rituals. That is not the kind of man I am. I don’t enjoy hurting people and I am a very private man. There will be only the two of us at a secure location. There will be nothing in writing—ever—save for the check I will give you at the end of our time together. I will not hurt you. I will not restrain you. There will be times when you will be embarrassed by what is happening but I will never degrade or humiliate you. I will never stop you from leaving. If at any time you wish to go all you need do is walk out the door. I will not attempt to prevent you nor will I come after you once you are gone. Should you leave before the thirty days are up, we’ll be finished. You are to tell no one of our arrangement—not even your friend Rachel. Do you understand?”
“Yes Sir,” she said with a hard swallow.
“I hope you do because I won’t repeat what I just said,” he told her. “Have you questions you would like to ask me? If so ask them now. You will not get the opportunity later.”
She steeled herself for his answers. “Are you a liar?”
“No, I am not.”
“Then everything you’ve said here this evening is the truth?”
“It is.”
“Are you married?”
“No and I never have been.”
“Engaged?”
“No and I never have been,” he repeated.
“Children?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“You would know,” she said, suspecting nothing got past him.
“Yes, I would.”
“Are you a rapist?”
He chuckled, shook his head. “No.”
“Are you a Satanist?”
His eyebrows drew together. “Now that’s an odd question, but no. I’m a Catholic.”
“Are you a serial killer?”
“Not yet,” he said.
The answer threw her for a second then she half smiled. “I don’t believe you ever will be.”
He raised a brow. “And your reasoning behind such an assumption is…?”
“You are too calm, too self-possessed and arrogant to be a serial killer. From what I learned of them in college, serial killers are sociopaths and you do not appear to fit that description.”
“Appearance can be deceiving,” he stated. “Serial killers need to be calm and self-possessed in order not to
be caught. They are arrogant to the extreme because they believe they never will. For all you know I could have a basement full of walled-up women I’ve tortured and murdered.”
“I don’t think so,” she said.
“Because?”
“I believe you are what you appear to be and not the sinister figure you’d like me to worry that you are.”
“And what do I appear to be?”
“Are you a successful business man?”
“Very successful.”
“A mob boss?”
He arched a brow but did not answer that question.
“Fair enough,” she said. “Will you ever hurt me during our sessions?”
“Not intentionally.”
A blush warmed her face. “Not even when you take me the first time?”
“Now, that I cannot guarantee. I will be as gentle as I can be but that is something over which I have no control.”
“If I meet all the requirements—”
“You met the requirements before you ever stepped foot inside the room.”
“All right, if I meet all the conditions you set forth, will you pay me the million?”
“Miss Wynth, if you learn nothing else about me, you will learn that I say what I mean and I mean what I say. I have never welched on a bet, owed a debt I couldn’t pay, or cheated my employees. I don’t lie. I don’t steal and I always do what I say I will. If you fulfill the provisions of our bargain to earn the million, you will receive the million. Is that clear?”
“Crystal, Sir,” she said.
“One important detail,” he said and his eyes shone like blue diamonds. “I don’t use condoms. I find them distasteful. There will be nothing between my cock and your cunt.”
She shuddered at the vulgarity. “I understand. What about—”
“You won’t get pregnant,” he stated. “I had a vasectomy years ago but just to be on the safe side you are to religiously take the birth control pills my physician prescribed for you. I have no intention of ever bringing a child into this world. Do you agree with what I’ve said so far?”
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