“Shouldn’t a host accommodate the every desire of his guests?”
Turning my gaze to her darkened eyes, I tried to assess whether she was serious. It was almost impossible to tell.
There was something about her that I couldn’t put my finger on—an almost permanent amusement. If she were serious, it wouldn’t hurt to make an introduction. Maybe she was wanting to try slumming it for a night.
Who was I to deny her that request?
The thought died as I glanced at my filthy hand before sticking it out as an offering. I was kidding myself if I thought she was interested in anything more than good PR. If she wanted friendly, I’d give her exactly that—and then see how fast she went running when I had nothing worthwhile to offer. I couldn’t take her to any exotic places—my bedroom was the best theme park I could afford. “Tyson Inchcliff.”
At least she’d know the name of the pleb she shat on at the end of the night.
Without blinking, and with a wider smile than before, she took the offering. When her hand slid into mine, I was struck by how soft her skin was. Not in a Buffalo Bill type of way. I didn’t want to wear her skin—her tiny frame wouldn’t wrap around my muscles for starters—but holding her hand was like touching warm silk. Her fingers were delicate, slender and smooth the way only hands that had never seen a day of manual labour could be. I offered a loose handshake, worried I might shatter her bones if I squeezed too hard.
In return, she clasped my hand far tighter than she had any right to given her size. “Soleil Peyton.”
Peyton. Between the accent and the obvious money, it was hard to avoid jumping to the most obvious conclusion. She was no doubt of the Peytons. If she was, her family owned over three hundred hotels worldwide. Their net worth was into the billions. I might not have followed the gossip rags, but I did have business textbooks and financial reviews to recognise the name even if I didn’t know her face. Why she was the secret celebrity, and why she’d felt the need to come to Australia, I couldn’t say.
“Now that introductions are out of the way, how about I buy you a drink?” she asked.
Her words were the reminder I needed that my hand was still wrapped around hers. Our gazes locked and she still didn’t try to pull away. Dropping my eyes, I bristled and tugged my arm back to my side. “Traditionally, the man does that.”
“I was never one to follow tradition. Besides, something tells me you don’t have the funds to afford to buy my preferred drink.”
I clenched my jaw and curled my fingers into a fist. Those few words proved everything I had suspected about her was true. She was a typical rich bitch who liked to lord her money over the commoners. If I was a real good boy, maybe I could convince her to take a ride on my roller coaster, but it wouldn’t be long before she’d leave me behind.
Ditched while she moved onto the next, more expensive, toy.
I was about to stand and leave the club when she placed her hand over mine. “Please? Let Daddy pay for it. He won’t miss a few dollars for a drink or two.”
With another glance over her outfit and jewellery that probably cost the equivalent of the GDP of a developing country, I nodded. It wasn’t like I had anywhere better to be. Besides, even if she wanted to toy with me for a few hours, why shouldn’t I have some fun? If I was going in with both eyes open, it wouldn’t come as a surprise when she screwed me over. Would it really make much of a difference to my life if she did a fuck and chuck? At least I could take advantage of her generosity for a while. Plus, it meant I could climb a shelf higher in the quality of my drinks and go for something a little nicer than the house rum I’d had so far. “Fine. I’ll have a Bundy and Coke.”
She grinned at me before raising her hand and giving a little wave.
The well-dressed meathead appeared beside the booth—almost as if he’d popped out of thin air. She gave him our drink order, and he left as fast as he’d arrived. Ignoring the throng of people at the bar, he called the bartender over and set the drinks on the table less than two minutes later.
There were some definite perks to wealth—besides being able to eat three solid meals every day.
She took a sip of her drink, concentrating on it intently for a second before bringing her eyes back up to mine. With a surreptitious glance around, she leaned forward conspiratorially.
“I envy you,” she whispered.
I ran the sentence over in my head a few times, trying to figure out whether there was another meaning that could be applied to it. The words were all normal, and I understood each one, but in that order and coming from her they made no sense. “What? You envy me?”
After nodding, her gaze dropped to the champagne flute in front of her. One of her perfectly manicured fingers trailed lazy patterns through the condensation on the glass. My mind offered up images of that hand trailing the same paths over another cylindrical object.
“Why?” There was nothing in my life that was enviable. At least, nothing that would be to someone who had the world on a platter and more money than I could even conceive.
“Because your life is so easy,” she murmured. “You can do what you want when you want, and however you want. Your every move isn’t documented by the tabloids or watched by your father’s spies.”
I scoffed. “My life is far from easy. Most of the time, I barely have enough money to feed myself, let alone buy any small luxuries. I mean look at you. I bet each hair on your pretty head is worth more than I pay each week in rent.”
Her laughter rang out clear and loud. “Money isn’t everything.”
“No, it’s not,” I agreed. I’d seen that much first hand. “But it buys you everything.”
“You don’t understand. I want what you have.” Her voice had taken on a certain longing. “I want to live like you do. Love like you can. I just want to be normal.” The word left her in such a way that it seemed almost as if she thought it was something to aspire to.
“Being normal ain’t easy, sweetheart.” It was almost insulting that she could imagine my life was easier than hers. If I had even a fraction of her daddy’s wealth, I wouldn’t have a care in the world.
She leaned forward and clasped my hands. “Why don’t you show me?”
I raised one brow. “What?”
“Show me how the other half live. Please?” She flashed a smile full of perfect white teeth.
“Me being the other half, of course?” I clarified, successfully hiding the venom that wanted to escape at the further proof of her superiority complex.
She nodded in earnest, and her eyes widened to take on a quality that was almost impossible to resist. At that moment, she could’ve told me to strip naked and run around the bar, and I probably would’ve done it just to please her.
It was the danger in women like her.
A danger I wasn’t willing to risk. “I don’t think so. I’m not going to be part of a social experiment orchestrated by a spoiled rich girl.”
Chapter 2
SOLEIL’S HAND SHOT out to grab my wrist. When I glared at her, she batted her lashes and gave the sort of smile that would no doubt usually win people over to her point of view. “Please reconsider.”
The grip she had was so tight it was almost painful, and yet instead of wanting to fight her off, the warmth sent more fantasies unbidden into my mind. What that warm, firm grip would feel like around my cock. What her bright red lips would taste like.
Fuck.
She could be very dangerous.
I drew my hand back. “Why should I?”
“Will you at least sit and talk for a little longer? We can have another drink together.” Before I could respond, she lifted her hand, and the gorilla made his way over to us. Like every other time he’d moved through it, the crowd parted before him like the sea had for Moses. “Another two.”
As her bodyguard moved away to the bar, I frowned at her. “I didn’t say I was staying.”
She pouted. “You’re not going to leave me to drink alone, are you?”
“You don’t get told no very often, do you?”
A winning smile lifted her lips, but there was no comfort in it. It was more like a predator sensing an injured prey than anything friendly. “Never.”
I sneered at her. “Maybe you should learn to accept it then.”
“Maybe you can teach me how.”
One corner of my mouth quirked up involuntarily. As soon as I realised she’d made me smile, I forced it back down.
Her minder returned with the new round of drinks. He placed mine in front of me with a little more force than he’d used the previous time and eyeballed me for at least ten full seconds.
Is there a one-drink maximum policy I wasn’t aware of?
I swallowed down the lump that had taken over my throat. If it came down to it, I could defend myself in most scraps. With him though? I wasn’t sure it was physically possible for anyone to topple him without a weapon of some sort. When he backed away, the air I’d been holding in my lungs—unwilling to even breathe in case he took offence—came rushing out in a sigh.
Ignoring her minder’s attempts at intimidation, Soleil raised her glass. “To new friends.”
She was relentless.
I narrowed my eyes and tipped the glass to my lips without clinking it against her champagne flute first. “Is that what we are?” I asked after I’d swallowed a mouthful of my drink.
“Of course. At least, it’s what I’d like to be.”
A woman of her wealth and class wanted to be my friend. Even I wasn’t that gullible. It seemed more like . . .
“I get it now!” I exclaimed as it all became clear. “This is some sort of prank, isn’t it? Bekah put you up to it, didn’t she?”
“Bekah?” She seemed genuinely confused.
If she were a hired actor though, she would act confused. Wouldn’t she? Although I doubted Bekah would be able to afford two people with genuine acting talent for something as petty as a prank.
“My next door neighbour,” I said, waiting for any signs of recognition as I spoke. “This set-up has her fingerprints all over it.” There was a flicker of something in her expression, and I figured it was the confirmation I was waiting for. “How much is she paying you? I bet those aren’t even real diamonds.”
I leaned forward in my seat, reaching out to get a closer look at one of her earrings.
In an instant, the Armani-wearing gorilla was at our side. “Hands off the lady.”
His voice was so deep that it almost blended with the strong bass of the music.
I shot back into my seat, as far away from Soleil and her minder as possible.
“It’s okay, Vince,” Soleil assured him. “He wasn’t going to hurt me. Were you?”
I blinked a couple of times before shaking my head. What would the lug have done if I’d actually touched her? Maybe it wasn’t even worth trying to share any amusement park rides.
His reaction proved that she really might be who she’d claimed to be. Someone who had access to her father’s billions.
She dismissed her minder with a wave. “Now run along and don’t forget who you work for.”
“With respect, Miss Peyton, I work for your father. Not you. It would do you good to remember that.”
A frown dipped her brows for a moment before she planted a well-polished, obviously faked smile on her face.
When her gaze found mine again, there was something buried in her expression. It was hard to know exactly what it was, but it made me at least willing to listen to her proposal. That much couldn’t hurt, could it?
After a quick glance over her shoulder, Soleil leaned forward again and asked, “What?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. Apparently she’d noticed the change in my demeanour. “I’m trying to figure out what your deal is.”
“My deal?” The amusement in her tone was obvious enough.
“Yeah. Why are you here? Why now?”
“I wanted to experience college—”
“University,” I corrected. “You’re in Australia now.”
“University then.” She smirked at me. There was something both beautiful and unsettling in her smile. If she’d told me in that instant she was an immortal vampire trying to claim my life as a meal, I would’ve probably believed her. And gone willingly to my death. With a flick of her wrist, she dismissed the eye contact and broke the spell. “But I couldn’t go to any back home. Too many people recognise me. It’s stifling.”
I raised one brow at her. That was the hardest thing in her life, and she expected me to feel sorry for her?
“Let me guess,” she added. “You’re thinking poor little rich girl, doesn’t even know how easy she’s got it.”
My lips quirked upward. “Something like that.”
She reached out to my arm again. “Then show me. Please?”
“Why should I?” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back in the booth to get out of her reach.
“I want to experience life. Real life. Not the ivory towers I’ve suffocated in so far.”
“Why not just take your trust fund and run?”
She huffed and frowned. “It’s not that easy.”
“Life isn’t easy, princess.” I sneered the last word. Hadn’t life kicked me in the arse enough times to prove that? I drank the last of my drink and went to stand again. “If we’re done . . .”
She reached for my arm again, stopping me before I could leave. “I’ll pay you.”
I recoiled. “What?”
She leaned forward, and I followed her lead. We were almost nose to nose. Lurch rushed back over to the table, and we instantly broke apart. With a glare in his direction, Soleil sent him packing again. It was hard to know where the lines were in their relationship.
“Ten thousand dollars for two weeks of your life,” she muttered, barely loud enough for me to hear.
“What?” I asked again, trying to comprehend the value she’d said. I had to have misheard her over the noise of the club.
“I’m good for it.” She took her earrings out and surreptitiously handed me the pair. “These are worth twice that, and you can hold them as collateral.”
“You’re okay with handing a total stranger twenty grand worth of earrings and yet you think you need my help for some reason?”
“You’re wrong.” She clasped his fingers and curled them around the diamonds. “We’re not total strangers. We’re friends.”
I narrowed my eyes again but slipped my hand into my pocket to place the earrings inside. Her willingness to hand over jewellery worth that much money on a whim proved just how naive she was. Or how little money really meant to her. There was every chance I could take them and run. Not that I would, but she had no way of knowing that. Unless she planned to scream to Lurch if I tried to run and I wouldn’t put it past her. “Okay, friend, tell me exactly what you want me to do for this ten thousand dollars.”
Chapter 3
IS IT PROSTITUTION if there is no sex involved?
I ran that question over in my mind again and again as the notion of ten thousand dollars rolled through me. For some people, that sort of money would barely touch their debts and would only be a nice thing to have. For people like Soleil, that amount of money wasn’t even pocket change. For me, it was practically life-changing. It would cover my rent for at least six months. I’d be able to drop one of my part-time jobs—the one that caused me the most heartache.
It was an amount of money I couldn’t possibly turn my back on. Now, I just needed to work out whether I could stomach whatever it was I would need to do to earn it.
She grinned at me again. “Teach me how the other half lives.”
“But what does that mean exactly?”
“Let me live with you.”
Living with a spoiled princess would not be easy. It wouldn’t be the hardest thing I’d had to do for a dollar. Or ten thousand of them. “For a fortnight?”
“Two weeks and I’m gone.”
I still struggled to figure out the reason
behind her request. Why would she want to live with me when she had billions at her fingertips? What the fuck did she think my life was like? What did she expect to happen while we stayed together?
But two weeks . . .
It wasn’t really all that long.
Two weeks of putting up with a princess in exchange for so many months of rent.
“And what would I have to do in those two weeks?”
“Just live.” She shrugged and gave an enigmatic grin that was altogether too toothy to be trustworthy. It set me on edge, but the temptation of ten grand was too much to ignore. The diamond earring collateral I’d taken earlier weighed heavy in my pocket.
“Like normal?”
She nodded. “And show me how you do it.”
Was I being used as a test case for some sort of reality TV show?
“Will Lurch”—I thumbed over my shoulder at the imposing man—“be joining in for this little experiment?”
“No. Vince will need to be ditched.”
“Ditched?” I tilted my head to one side. “That’s an odd choice of words.”
She rested her hands on the table. “I told you my life is more complicated than you think. Some princesses get locked in a tower with a fire-breathing dragon to protect them. I get lumped with a moving wall of man meat.”
“You’re not happy with his presence?”
“I’m not happy with anything.” A vulnerability crept over her features. Her eyes softened, her lips curled downward, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She swiped it away as soon as it was free.
In that instant, as she looked so broken and fragile, an ancient part of me stirred. My brain screamed with a desire to protect her. I wanted nothing more than to take her home, lock her in my room, and make sure none of the sorrows that weighed her down could touch her again. The notion was preposterous. Barbaric. Very “Me, Tarzan. You, Jane.” Yet, it was impossible to fight. For those few seconds, I would’ve taken her in without any added incentive.
But then my survival instinct kicked back in. It was a dog-eat-dog world, and all she was to me was a ticket to the biggest paycheque I’d ever seen in my life—that I probably would ever see if I was honest with myself.
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