Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
LARA
B eing this close to him is mind-bending. I feel off-balance. Almost dizzy. The whole situation is surreal, to say the least. Like a dream. Everything is outrageous. And nothing makes sense. My gaze won't leave his lips. I can’t believe how soft and flushed they look. They are the perfect shape—not too thin and not too big—just enough for me to wonder what it would feel like if I just leaned in and tasted them, felt their softness against mine.
Jesus! What is wrong with me?
"I just want to get this straight, Mr. Ivanovich," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "What you're really saying is that if I agree, pardon me if I'm wrong or mistaken, and if I am, I apologize profusely, but are you trying to say that if I get involved with you, you will buy the house?"
I wait for his response with bated breath.
I don't think I have ever waited for anything this intensely or nervously before, except maybe when I was checking my emails repeatedly for my SATs and college entrance acceptance letters. I was convinced my entire life hung on those results, and it feels the same way now, as though my entire life henceforth hangs on whatever his answer will be.
"Yes, Miss Fitzpatrick," he replies sardonically.
The shock is unbelievable. Can he really be serious? Heat rushes through my whole body and then I am suddenly afraid because I have to suspect then that he is insane. Who spends that kind of money because he fancies a girl? Maybe this is what all billionaires do.
"You're willing to spend one hundred and twenty million on a house based on a whim?" I croak in disbelief.
He takes a step closer and I start to tremble like a leaf in a storm. I think of Leda. Her puny pale fingers pushing helplessly against the glory of the swan and its great wings. I can’t help it. My eyes swivel towards the painting and he laughs darkly.
"I’ll let you in on a secret, my Spartan Queen. To a very rich man money is meaningless. If everything has a price and money is worthless, it means everything is essentially free."
I stare at him, speechless. How did I come to be here? This is not my world. In my world money is in short supply. All the people I know scrounge around every day just to pay the bills and put food on the table. But this man is turning my world to ashes. He is willing to spend the GDP of a small country to sleep with me of all people. Why me? I am not glamorous, sophisticated, or insanely beautiful like Sasha. He reaches a hand out and rubs his thumb along my lower lip. The skin of his thumb is soft. He has never done a day’s hard work in his life. Something I have never felt stirs deep in my belly. It is like a clawed hand. Moving, gasping, strong. Its strength astonishes me. It starts a fire inside me that no one else has ever ignited.
I want him!
With every fiber in my body. I want my body to entangle with his. I want him inside me. The world outside ceases to exist. I forget that Sasha is waiting on the beach. I forget that what is happening should be classed as crazy. All I know is the rush inside me and the emptiness in my body that only he can fill. My mouth opens and seeks his.
I don’t know what would have happened if a lone seagull flying close by the floor-to-ceiling windows had not made its high-pitched cry. The shrill screech jolts me out of my hypnotized daze and I jump back with a shriek. My hand slaps over my horrified mouth.
"I'm sorry," I mumble, but I don't know what I am apologizing for.
"Sorry? Don’t be. I want you and I'm willing to pay a hefty price for you."
His words are like a bucket of cold water over my head. The strange desire for him disappears and I feel only fury. How dare he? Who does he think he is? I have never in my life met someone so presumptuous and arrogant. He is beautiful and rich on the outside, but his soul is so ugly and poor. I’m not for sale.
"No offence, Mr. Ivanovich, but I’m not attracted to you," I say coldly.