Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“Do you need a costume for the Retreat?”
“I need you for the Retreat,” he says in that husky tone again.
My command is your wish. Like I want him to tell me what to do. Like I want to relinquish responsibility.
“I don’t understand. You need seamstress services at the Annual Grand Masquerade Retreat?”
“I need Aurora services… Wait, that came out wrong.”
“I think you should explain, Mr. Blackwell.”
He comes even closer, invading my personal space. I don’t tell him to back up. Why not? I’m not sure.
“I’m not sure how much you know about our family, but some say we’re cursed. There aren’t many of us left. My grandmother holds all the chips as far as my inheritance is concerned. It turns out that the crazy, endearing woman has decided she wants to see me with a woman on my arm at the Retreat. She wants to look at us and believe we’re a couple. That we’re going to be in it for the long haul. That we might have kids together one day.”
The more he talks, the more surreal this conversation seems. My only response is to laugh nervously because I’m not sure what to say.
“What do you think?” he says. “I’ll pay you well. It’s like you said; on Halloween, we get to pretend. You pretend to belong to me. Who knows, you might even like it.”
“What do you think I am, Mr. Blackwell? Where do you think you are?”
He makes a show of looking around, becoming that rich douche again. Or maybe he never stopped being a douche. Perhaps he was just hiding it for a couple of minutes.
“An exhibition of pure talent,” he says smoothly.
“This isn’t a brothel, nor am I an escort. I don’t date men for money.”
“I’m not talking about dating, Aurora. I’m talking about pretending.”
“Even if I wanted to agree to this stupid idea, I can’t leave my grandmother. So, the answer is no.”
“Ten thousand would just be a down payment.”
I close my eyes and massage the bridge of my eyebrow. These people. They think they can buy everything. “I’m sure you’ve been able to purchase anything and anybody your entire life, but unfortunately, I’m not for sale.”
He reaches into his jacket pocket and takes out a business card. “In case you change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
“Take it anyway.” He holds it out, staring into my eyes with that complete attentiveness that’s somehow unnerving and flattering at the same time. “You really don’t enjoy doing what you’re told.”
Maybe there’s a world where I would enjoy doing what I’m told. It would be a welcome break from having to feel like I’m in charge all the time. But I’m not going to tell him that… and I’m certainly not going to be some naïve woman who falls for his superficial charm and goes googly-eyed over dollar signs.
“I think we’re done, Mr. Blackwell. I’ll need the suit to make the adjustments.”
“I’ll get changed and bring the suit by later and pick it up later,” he says, still holding the card out.
I fold my arms, which seems like a pretty clear signal. Short of writing I’m Not Interested in oil then setting it on fire, I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to do.
The business card reads, Raiden Blackwell, Property Developer. He must be able to read my amusement. It’s easy to be anything when you’re born into absurd wealth.
“Something funny?” he asks.
“Nope.”
“Then I must be hallucinating.”
Only if he thinks I’m going to magically and miraculously become his personal plaything.
He tucks the business card back in his pocket. “See you around, Aurora.”
CHAPTER 6
RAIDEN
If she doesn’t want my help, I’m not going to stand here like a jackass trying to persuade her. She’s made her wishes clear.
I’m almost out of the room when she says, “Why me?”
Her voice grows raspy, like she’s throwing the question my way reluctantly. There are nerves in there as if she wishes she could take it back. Like she spoke just to keep me around a little longer, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
“You don’t have to sound so shocked,” I say, turning back to her.
She slides her hand through her hair, like she needs to do something, anything, to relieve some tension. The movement makes her tousled hair even wilder.
“I can’t think of anyone better,” I say.
“But… why?”
Because those thick hips make me want to squeeze my hands against them, even if it’s all for show. Because, arrangement or not, tasting those pouting lips would be sweet.
I don’t say any of this. It’s not relevant. If this is going to work, it’s going to be all business.
“You understand the importance of Halloween,” I say. “You enjoy wearing a mask and all that comes along with it: the pretending, the shift in your personality, becoming someone else. When you’re on my arm as my date, it’ll be like wearing a costume. And if it helps with your situation in the meantime, hell, that’s just a bonus.”