Chapter 6
Chapter Six
DARIUS
I can see the indecision on her face. She wants to do it, but family ties are holding her back. Although, I struggle to see why when her sister did nothing but bitch about her, and her parents looked like they gave absolutely no fucks, all of their devotion showered over her sister—well, her mother’s devotion anyway, her father was more despondent than an alien who might have just crash-landed on Earth.
“I promise you, you won’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. At most, you’ll accompany the client to dinner and spend the night, but if separate beds are what you request, then that is what will happen.” I would never allow an employee to be taken advantage of, ever. My reputation is worth its weight in gold, and I have no plans to ever change that. My business isn’t seedy, its high class, and it’s why the pay is so good. The women and men that work for me tend to stay until they have decided to marry and have a family, and sometimes, they come back with their husband or partners blessing, because they know who I am and what I’m about. Hell, I’ve even had dinner with some of them, because that’s the kind of guy I am. Trustworthy. Honest. And I’ll have my employees’ backs at every turn.
“I…” She starts to speak and then closes her mouth, biting her bottom lip. Her plump lip which I would very much like to bite myself. “I just don’t know.”
“Well, ask me anything to reassure your mind. I’ve got all night,” I tell her, because even though I said she had twenty-four hours, I’d wait a fucking lifetime for her. The first moment I saw her, I knew that I had met the wrong sister. The first time I heard her laugh, which didn’t happen very often around her family, I knew it was my favourite sound. The first time she looked at me, really looked at me, I knew she’d be the one to have the keys to my heart. And when she came on my hand last night, her body reacting to me like it already knew who I was, I knew without a fucking doubt that she was mine. Just mine.
“Darius…” she starts, but then her voice fades off as she bites her bottom lip, making my cock twitch. “When exactly would this weekend happen?”
“This coming weekend,” I tell her, and her eyes pop open wider.
“As in, this Friday, which is four days away?” she questions.
“Yes,” I confirm, because I’m a selfish bastard who deemed putting a little more pressure than usual on the timing as a way to grind her down, get her where I want her. Less time to think. “It’s why the pay is so high. For the inconvenience.”
“Do I get to know who the client is?” she asks.
“No. Not the first time, not until you sign the contract on arrival.”
“Shouldn’t I sign that before I go?” Smart woman. Smart mouth.
“Usually, yes, but you haven’t agreed to anything yet,” I fire back.
“So if I sign the contract before Friday, I can know who it is?”
“Absolutely.” I can see how much she wants to do this. No sex required, one hundred thousand for a weekend of company… it’s got to be more than fucking tempting. It’s why I made it that way, for fuck’s sake.
Minutes tick by before she says, “You got the contract?”
I produce it from the inside of my jacket and hold it out to her, unwavering as she takes it and moves to the kitchen counter, where she proceeds to read it as I wait patiently, hands in pockets, watching her, waiting for her to just get a pen and sign on the line already.
“Is this real?” she asks when she gets to the last page. “I mean, it all seems too good to be true, to be honest.”
“It’s all real, Bonnie, I would never lie to you,” I tell her honestly, the tension as she looks deep into my eyes crackling around us.
“Pen,” she says, and again I reach inside my jacket and produce a pen, walking to her slowly, handing it over, making sure my fingers touch her so she can feel that fucking zing that I feel. And with a deep breath, she returns her attention to the page in front of her, the one where she signs her name and hands it back to me, where I pocket it for safe keeping.
“So, whose the client?” she asks cockily, and this is the part where I smirk, because I’m about to shock the shit out of her and commit her reaction to memory.
And with a one-word reply, I simply tell her, “Me.”