The Billionaire's Virgin

by Jackie Ashenden

  Xavier said nothing as the elevator began climbing up the floors, making her ears pop. She could feel him looking at her, studying her. What must he think of her now? In the bright light of the elevator car? She’d never given other people’s opinions much thought, not when her own survival was much more important. Yet for some reason, right now, she kind of cared what he thought about her.

  The sense of shame deepened, though she tried not to let it.

  Eventually the elevator stopped and the doors slid open directly out into the largest room she’d ever seen. It was bigger than the dining room at the shelter, or even the bunk room, and for a long moment all she could do was stare.

  There were windows on at least three sides. Massive windows, beyond which there was nothing but the lights of the New York skyline and darkness and whirling snow. The room was dim but as soon as she stepped out of the elevator, lights came on, not straight away bright like an ordinary light switch, but gradually. They seemed to come from recessed places in the high ceiling, the light that came from them warm and diffuse, illuminating the rest of the room.

  It was like an art gallery, there was no other way she could describe it. Or maybe a palace. Or maybe it was what heaven was like, because she simply had no other frame of reference.

  The floor was thickly carpeted in deep charcoal, and an arrangement of long, low white sofas sat in front of the soaring windows. There were shelves built into the walls with stuff on them, but nothing that looked cluttered or untidy. A sculpture here. Sleekly spined books there. A glass vase and a bowl of flowers. In front of the sofa was a low coffee table stacked with magazines and a chess set carved from what looked like crystal. Everything was white or black or some shade in between.

  Maybe it should have felt cold, but there was nothing cold about this room, nothing at all. She could feel the warmth of it seeping in from the soles of her feet all the way up through her body. It was amazing, beautiful.

  And it made her even more aware of how wet and filthy her shoes were, how stained her jeans and overcoat were. How she could never sit on that white sofa because she was bound to leave a mark. She would stain everything . . .

  Mia froze, not wanting to move, not even one step.

  This wasn’t anything like the dirty, run-down apartment she’d lived in once with her grandmother, before the old bitch had beaten her one too many times and she’d had to leave. And it certainly didn’t have the comforting—if cold—familiarity of her place behind the Dumpster in the alley.

  She shouldn’t be here; she didn’t belong here.

  But then Xavier was moving past her, shrugging out of his overcoat and throwing it carelessly over the back of the sofa. “Welcome to chez de Santis,” he said casually. “Mi casa is your casa, etcetera. Okay, so, quickie tour. Over there are the controls for the lights and the air con.” He pointed at some spot on the wall she couldn’t even see. “Over here’s where you can control music for whichever part of the house want to be in. TV controls are part of that too.” He flashed her a brilliant smile, his blue eyes electric in the warm light of the room. The humming energy around him seemed to increase, his movements fluid and decisive as he undid the buttons on his suit jacket and shrugged that off too, leaving it on top of the overcoat. “You need food, ASAP.” He began undoing the cufflinks on his business shirt, tossing them onto a nearby table, not seeming to notice that one of them bounced off it and onto the floor. “Now, I haven’t been home for a few days, so I’m not sure what food we’ve got, but if we’re very lucky, Mrs. Thomas will have done her thing and left a little something for me in the fridge.” He began rolling up his sleeves with the same decisive movements, exposing tanned, muscular forearms. “She visits this little deli around the corner that does lots of gourmet shit, but also has the best mac and cheese ever.”

  Clearly not expecting a response, he turned and strode down the hallway on her left, talking as he went. “Down here’s the kitchen, and that door there leads to the bedrooms and the bathrooms. You can choose whichever one you want, doesn’t worry me.”

  She stared after him, frozen in place, shaking. Overwhelmed.

  Come on. Get yourself the fuck together. You survived on the streets, you can survive here. Now go get that food.

  Mia sucked in a breath. Yeah, God, she wasn’t going to let one rich dude and his apartment in the sky get to her. No way. She had to ignore the feelings of shame just like she ignored the fear when she was out on the streets. Shame and fear were not going to get her what she wanted. Doing stuff, surviving, would. And the first step to surviving was eating some goddamn food.

  Forcing herself to move, she made herself put one foot in front of the other, following the sound of his deep voice down the hallway. Deliberately she didn’t look around, not ready to take anything more in quite yet.

  The hallway wasn’t long, leading out into another massive room with yet more windows and yet another view incredible New York view. Part of her registered it and wanted to go press herself against the glass, see what the city looked like from up here in the sky rather than from her usual viewpoint on the ground. But she didn’t. Instead she found herself blinking at a massive kitchen, all shiny with stainless steel and pristine white marble.

  Xavier was standing before a huge fridge that looked even bigger than the ones in the shelter, frowning slightly as he reached in and took something out of it. A carton of milk. He gave her another grin as he put the carton on the white marble of the kitchen island. “Sit. I’ll get you a glass. I’m thinking you won’t want beer, since alcohol probably isn’t a good idea if you haven’t eaten.” Again, he didn’t wait for her to answer, pulling open one perfectly white cupboard and pulling out a tall glass. He set it before her and poured the milk. “Mrs. Thomas has definitely been. The milk is fresh and that’s usually a problem since I’m not here a lot. Which means . . .” He glanced at a huge hunk of shiny metal in the corner, which turned out to be the oven. “Ha. I was right.” Another of those brilliant smiles as he crossed over to the oven, tugging it open and getting something out. “Excellent. It’s still hot.”

  A minute later and a plate of piping hot mac and cheese was sitting in front of her.

  She blinked down at it, her stomach rumbling, still overwhelmed despite it all.

  Xavier pushed a fork over in her direction. “Eat, Mia.”

  Yes, eat. Forget the rest. You don’t know when you’ll get any food again.

  Like a switch being flicked, her survival instincts kicked in, and she forgot about her surroundings, her shame, and even her wet clothes, grabbing the fork, digging in to the food. She took it slowly, knowing from experience that gorging herself on an empty stomach was a really bad idea, ignoring Xavier’s brilliant, interested gaze as he watched her.

  He was saying something, but she paid no attention, concentrating on her food instead. His voice was like a beautiful counterpoint to the richness of the sauce, sound and taste blending into one delicious sensation she felt down the entire length of her body.

  She wanted to eat it all day, every day, but she hadn’t even managed half of it when she had to stop, not used to the richness.

  “Are you sure you’ve had enough?” he asked, eyeing her plate doubtfully as she pushed it away.

  She nodded.

  He frowned, as if not quiet believing her. Then shrugged. “Fine. You can have more if you’re hungry later.”

  His gaze ran over her, assessing as she leaned against the counter, completely unable to speak, half stupefied with warmth and, for the first time in a long time, a full stomach.

  “You up for that bath?”

  Bath. Warm water. How long had it been since she’d had one of those? She was used to the quick five-minute shower in the shelter, which was barely enough time to wash her hair and the rest of her body. Certainly never enough time to luxuriate.

  Wordlessly, she nodded again.

  “Follow me then.” Xavier moved to the kitchen doorway and once again she had to force herself to
move, walking slowly down the hallway after him, through another doorway and another short hall before he pushed open a door and stood aside for her to enter.

  Another massive room with huge windows, this time their footsteps echoing off white tiles and yet more white marble. On a plinth in front of those windows stood a tub that looked big enough for at least five people.

  Apparently he hadn’t been kidding when he’d said you could drown an elephant in it.

  Briskly he moved over to the bath, fiddling with the taps until steaming water was running into the tub. He talked while he did this too, a wall of beautiful sound that surrounded her and somehow held her up because she felt like she was in danger of falling over.

  She hadn’t done it often, but sometimes, when the loneliness got to her, she went to see one of the old men who sometimes shared the alley with her, accepting a few sips from their whisky bottles in return for listening to some of their old stories.

  This felt like the feeling that would creep up on her then, the muzzy, warm sensation of being drunk. She’d hated it on the street, feeling the temptation of it pulling her, to escape her reality the way so many others did. But she knew that way led nowhere good, so she didn’t drink very often.

  And she knew she shouldn’t give into it now.

  But it was different, here in this place. Because it wasn’t alcohol that was making her feel this way, only food and warmth. Food and warmth that were temporary, only and ever temporary.

  So? Take it while you can get it, idiot.

  “You okay?” He was standing in front of her now, looking down at her, his beautiful face shadowed in the subdued lighting of the bathroom.

  “Yes,” she said thickly. “I want my bath now.” Suddenly she couldn’t bear waiting any longer.

  “It’s all ready for you. The door has a lock so you can lock it if you want. I promise I won’t come in.”

  But she wasn’t listening. She wanted in that warm water and she wanted in now.

  He murmured something else that she didn’t listen to then moved toward the door, going through and closing it quietly after him.

  Silence fell. Absolute, incredible. She’d never been anywhere so quiet. All the time, the noise of the city was everywhere she went—a constant, night or day. But up here, in Xavier’s penthouse, it was like she’d gone deaf.

  She swallowed, her hands moving to the buttons on her coat, undoing them, her fingers shaking. It felt like forever to discard all the layers she wore, and she wore a lot of them because how else could she keep warm? But one by one they fell away until at last she stood in Xavier de Santis’s bathroom, naked and shivering.

  Being naked felt wrong, felt exposing and dangerous, but no one was going to get her here, were they? No one could come in and attack her. No one except Xavier. She was starting to think he probably was telling the truth when he said he wouldn’t hurt her, but you could never be too careful, so she extracted his beautiful knife from the tangle of clothing and walked over to the bath, laying the knife on the broad edge of it.

  Then, slowly, because the water was very hot, she lowered herself into the tub.

  Her mind blanked as the water closed over her bare skin, her whole body going into something like pleasure shock. And for a moment, her toes and her hands hurt, aching painfully as the warmth penetrated. Then . . . holy shit. Warm. So incredibly warm

  She lay there in the water, staring up at the darkness of the ceiling, not thinking of anything at all. Floating.

  And for the first time in years, muscle by muscle, Mia let herself relax.

  Chapter 5

  Xavier sat in the kitchen, eating the rest of Mia’s mac and cheese and going over some emails on his phone. Of course his father had wanted an update on the Washington situation and so Xavier had called him, since that was quicker.

  As he’d expected, his father had been delighted with the result of the meeting and the nice, fat government contract that was going to come out of it. Delighted enough that he’d scheduled a personal meeting with Xavier tomorrow to discuss handing over ownership of the ranch.

  Scheduled for a meeting with his own father. Fuck, it was kind of funny when he thought about it. Who else had to do that to see their own father? But then that was old Cesare de Santis all up. Nothing was more important than his company, nothing at all.

  Xavier might have been pissed if he thought about it too much, but there was no point in getting pissed, so he didn’t. He left that shit to his brother Lorenzo. It was easier not to let things bother him, to just float along the surface of life, taking pleasure in the things that interested him. Women. Beer. Weapons.

  Christ, there was a reason that the media had dubbed him the “redneck in a suit.”

  He flicked through his emails, sliding most of them in the trash.

  A reminder popped up on the screen, telling him he was due at the workout he’d scheduled before he’d realized he was going to be bringing home an uninvited guest.

  Speaking of which . . .

  Xavier looked up from his phone and stared through the kitchen doorway to the hall beyond. How long had she been in that bath? It had been at least half an hour, hadn’t it? Maybe more. Okay, so he knew women liked that tub—he’d had a few in it, mostly with himself in there too—but they’d never been quite that long had they?

  A flash of concern went through him, unfamiliar and sharp.

  She’d seemed . . . quiet when they’d stepped out of the elevator. And quite frankly he’d thought she’d eat more than she had. Unless it had been too rich for her? But still, she hadn’t eaten a lot and even with all those layers covering her, he’d bet there wasn’t a lot to her. When he’d put his hand on her back out at the front entrance to his building, she’d felt so . . . slight. Like she’d blow away in the first strong breeze.

  Maybe something had happened to her?

  Or maybe she’s just enjoying a nice bath and taking her time about it. Relax. This chick is getting you way too wound up.

  True. She was here and he’d fed her and now she was in the bath, there was nothing to get too concerned about, right?

  He spent the next five minutes trying to read an email from the marketing department about some problem to do with the latest campaign for the De Santis semi-automatic range. Reading and not taking in a word since he kept listening out for Mia to come out of the bath and not hearing anything.

  “Dammit,” he said aloud to the kitchen. Then he put his phone down and strode in the direction of the bathroom.

  The door was firmly closed when he got there and no sound was coming from inside, not even when he put an ear to the door. Strange. Surely he’d hear the sounds of water moving or at least something?

  He knocked lightly. There was no response, so he knocked again, louder this time.

  Still no response.

  He put a hand to the door. “Mia?”

  Nothing.

  Screw this. He pulled on the door handle and found it wasn’t locked, which he hadn’t expected. Not when she’d been so wary of him.

  Cautiously, he pushed the door open and put his head around it.

  She was lying in the tub, her head turned toward the light of the city, absolutely still.

  A strange, cold fear wound around his heart, almost stopping his breath and freezing him in his tracks.

  What the fuck are you doing? It’s like you’re expecting her to be dead or something.

  No, that was stupid. Why would he think that?

  But the fear wouldn’t go away and he had to take a long, slow breath, forcing himself to move, crossing the white-tiled floor over to the tub where Mia lay.

  Her head was back against the edge of the bath, long dark strands of hair lying damply on pale shoulders and forehead. She was breathing softly, deeply, her eyes closed.

  Jesus Christ, he was a fucking idiot. She was asleep.

  A wave of relief went through him and then, because he was a man and a basic one at that, and because she was a woman and currently
naked in his bath, he let his gaze take in the rest of her.

  She was very slight, very much on the too-thin side, and he could have put his whole hand around her upper arms without any trouble at all. But . . . he looked further down. Small, high breasts and pale pink nipples. Beautifully curved waist and hips. Legs that were never going to be long, not given her height, but nevertheless were in perfect proportion to the rest of her. Black silky curls between her thighs. Pale, smooth skin beneath the surface of the water . . .

  That feeling kicked inside him again, the same thing he’d felt in his limo, and he had to catch his breath.

  That’s it, you prick. Get hard for the poor naked homeless woman you’re perving at in your tub.

  The water rippled and he jerked his gaze back to her face, only to find her fathomless black eyes staring back at him.

  She gave a gasp and moved, her hand flashing to the knife sitting on the side of the bath. But he moved too and faster, bringing his palm down flat on the back of her hand, pressing it onto the marbled rim before she could stab him somewhere sensitive.

  It only seemed to make things worse. “Get away from me!” The sound of her terrified breathing filled the bathroom, echoing off the tiles, water sloshing everywhere as she tried to pull her hand away. “Don’t! Stop!”

  Jesus, he didn’t know what he’d done to wake her up or to provoke this reaction, but he knew blind panic when he saw it. She was staring at him, but not really seeing, all the light gone from her eyes, her skin dead white.

  Like she had when he’d touched her hand in the doorway of the shelter.

  He wasn’t used to dealing with panicked women. Wasn’t used to dealing with panicked people of either sex. But he remembered those long hot summers, when his father used to send all his sons back to Blue Skies Ranch, determined that they wouldn’t grow up spoiled, pampered big-city boys. He remembered being with the horses and how sometimes he’d been able to calm a panicked animal with a firm voice and a steady, reassuring hand.