Chapter Nine
T he only thing keeping her from walking out of the room was Serge's hands on her body. Aubrey's heart raced, and she wondered if she tried to get off him, if he'd let her go. After hearing he enjoyed hurting others, she was afraid to try her luck.
Instead, she hid her reaction and played it cool. "May I stand up?"
"Normally, I'd let you do anything when you ask me in that soft voice I like listening to, but right now I want you to stay on my lap and talk with me," he said. "I can tell you're worried. There's no reason to be scared of me. All we're doing is sitting and talking, that's it."
"That's not what I thought we were going to do when you told me to come home with you." She folded her hands in her lap. "I thought this was about sex, and we've done that before, and I handled that fine. I don't know what you're planning to do now, or why you had to tell me that you enjoy hurting people. You're starting to freak me out a little, not in a good way. If you had told me you like to box a few rounds every now and then, that's one thing, but you're talking about beating the shit out of someone because it's fun and—"
"Not fun. Necessarily," he said.
She scoffed. "Sorry, but I don't understand where you're going with this conversation. Only murderers and...and serial killers enjoy hurting others."
"Undoubtedly," he muttered.
"Can you explain why you're different?" She clamped her lips shut. Scared in case he confessed to murder, and curious enough, she shut up. None of her Google searches taught her about this new side to him.
Every news article she found, she'd read over and over, paying attention to every word, trying to get to know him better. There was never any inclination or rumors that he was violent.
A loner. Yes.
Smart. Yes.
Powerful. Yes.
A Rebel. Yes.
Was he trying to convince her that he was a sadist? That he found pleasure in hurting others? Her?
"I'm different than most men." He paused. "There's something about inflicting pain on others and even receiving pain that makes me feel..." He shrugged. "Alive."
The room closed in on her. She pushed against him, forgetting there was a bigger threat of pissing him off. He refused to let her go.
"Please. You promised you wouldn't hurt me." She grabbed at his fingers, trying to bend them off her hip. "Let me up."
"We're talking." He shifted his hands, one palmed her thigh, and the other pressed against her back.
The more relaxed hold gave her a little breathing room, and she sucked in air as if she'd finally pushed her head above water. "W-what does this have to do with me? You said you wouldn't hurt me, and I'm not into being hurt or any kinky stuff, so why tell me this?"
"First off, I went to the gym because I no longer wanted to control myself. I was feeling numb."
"Numb?"
"Life numbs me." He frowned. "It builds up, and yes, I can be dangerous, but I won't let myself get to that level with you. Rarely can I not check myself. But I won't lie. There have been times when my needs got the better of me, and I lost control." He squeezed her leg.
She needed to move. To walk. To shake off the new information about Serge. "I still don't understand what this has to do with me."
"I can teach you ways to help me that will be pleasurable for you." He smoothed her hair down her back. "If you let me have control."
"You're telling me that to feel alive, you need to beat someone up." She gulped. "That's messed up, Serge."
"There's nothing about me that conforms to society's norm. My mom was a prostitute. I lived on the street at six years old. When I was ten, my mom died. I kept myself and Alain, my younger brother, alive. We were lucky if we had something over our heads at night. We found food in dumpsters and begged on street corners. I kept us out of child protective services. I've seen and done more than most people who go to war. I forced myself not to feel. Now, when I want to feel, it takes a little more to get me there."
"I don't know whether to feel sorry for you or—"
"Don't."
She stared at him, shaking her head. "This is why you're so dominating?"
He shrugged. "Call it what you want."
Her head pounded. She had no experience or exposure to the life he'd led and it was beyond her imagination why he was numb and needed pain like someone else would need a hug or cuddles.
"I never read anything about you having a brother." She needed to change the subject.
"You've been digging around, huh?" He pulled a strand of her hair. "You think you know me, but I have a lot of secrets." He inhaled through his nose and continued. "So, you've heard how I took the money I made off the street and invested it, doubling my money. The next month, I doubled that. I've grown into a company that can invest millions of dollars."
"What about your brother? Where is he?" she whispered, afraid of his answer.
"Alian? He's around." He shrugged. "He keeps a low profile, content to live life the way he wants, which is surviving on nothing. He steals when he wants something and uses people for entertainment when he's bored. He was the reason I ended up at your shelter. I thought he might've gone in there."
She thought he was after the shelter, and that's why he offered her money to have sex with him. But he'd only been searching for his brother.
He wasn't the first family member to stop at the shelter and inquire about someone. People were out there searching for their lost brother, sister, mom, dad, or uncle every single day. Anyone could be homeless. Regardless of their position in life, circumstances could change without notice. Hardships could strike and make it impossible to rebound.
"I don't know what to think," she muttered. "I thought I knew you."
The corner of his mouth twitched as he fought a grin. "Forget about what you've read about me. Forget about me as a businessman. Forget about where I came from because for you, with you, I'm different."
"You've lost me again," she said.
His claim to a life of poverty, survival, and mystery appealed to her far more than wearing a Gucci suit and living in a mansion. She leaned against his chest, overwhelmed by all the information.
There was nothing about him, except what he'd spoken of, that raised any red flags indicating she was in danger. If she was honest with herself, she admired how he'd grown up. It was the power that came with success that gave her every reason to stay away from him.
The crack in his personality made him more relatable. It made him vulnerable, which put her at ease.
"I want to begin a relationship with you, Bree. But, I won't start one on lies." He lowered his voice. "There will be times when you'll want to leave me. I'll be too possessive, too hard, and too raw. I'll push boundaries. I'll scare you. There could be times when you even question if I like you."
She laughed out of nervousness. "Really, Serge. Most men use boring pickup lines to sweep me off my feet. You should try offering me the moon instead of those qualities."
"Not trying to entertain you." He picked her up and set her on her feet. "I'm holding back from telling you how it's going to be between us and letting you have a chance to walk out the door against my better judgment."
"Wait." She held up her hand, suddenly cold from the loss of his body next to her. "Have you had this same conversation with other women, and it's worked for you?"
Forgetting the shock of hearing all the information he had thrown at her, she crossed her arms. Jealousy wasn't an issue, or so she told herself. The thought that he had planned all this rubbed her the wrong way. She had slept with him because she liked him, without any thoughts or reasons behind her decision.
To think that he orchestrated everything they'd experienced together sat wrong. In fact, her stomach hurt. She'd sworn off men like him. Seeing him, sleeping with him, and going home with him tonight was a mistake.
"You're the first woman I've tried talking to before anything happened." He leaned against his desk and studied her. "I've hidden that part of myself from every woman I've been with. I would normally disappear for days, lie, and coerce them into believing what I wanted them to believe. All they cared about was what kind of money I could toss their way."
"You did that with me." Tension rolled her shoulders. "You offered to pay my expenses for the shelter."
He shrugged. "It's what I do."
"Who did I have a one-night stand with?" She glared. "Were you trying to play me? Are you still trying?"
He continued looking at her. "You had sex with me. I'm only telling you now because what I want is different than the first time we had sex."
Her breath left her, and she walked toward the door. She didn't want him to treat her like the rest of his women. She whirled around. "Okay, then why tell me the truth? What is there about me that makes you think I'd accept everything without question?"
His gaze softened. She swallowed. Just because he was the sexiest man ever and had her ready to fall into bed with him if he snapped his finger, didn't mean she was the type of woman to enter into any kind of arrangement with him.
She prided herself on being a strong woman. Despite her mother's best intentions or maybe because of them, she rebelled against latching on to someone wealthy and powerful. Instead, she started her own non-profit and kept herself out of the limelight. Serge had no idea who he was messing with.
"Come here," he whispered.
She shook her head. "I can hear you fine from here."
Come here," he lowered his voice.
She scoffed and walked toward him, stopping a foot away. "What?"
With him leaning against the desk, she gazed across the space between them. He placed his feet on either side of her, spreading his legs, and pulled her by the hand closer until she leaned into him.
"Be quiet for a moment," he said.
She sighed. Whatever he planned wouldn't work with her. He'd warned her, and she'd take that warning home with her. She inhaled the slight musk she associated with him. It was so unfair. She'd wanted to sleep with him again. All week, she'd thought of nothing else.
He raised his hand and cupped the back of her head. She stiffened, and her stomach fluttered when he curled his fingers in her hair.
"Please, don't," she said.
Not moving any closer, he used his hand to nudge her forward. She braced her hands on his chest.
"Give a little," he whispered.
Her mouth grew dry at the sexy undertone. "This is stupid."
His left brow lifted, and he brought her closer, until she fell against his chest. She stared at his mouth, not wanting to look him in the eyes. Except, he parted his lips, and she whimpered before she could catch herself. He played unfairly.
"I want to go ho—"
"Quiet," he murmured.
His breath brushed her face. Her neck arched, and she closed her eyes. In the most tender touch imaginable, he skimmed his lips against hers. Her legs trembled, and she was suddenly grateful for the hold he had on her hair, or she would have crumbled at his feet, making a fool of herself.
"You want me. You want this." He nibbled her bottom lip, speaking against her mouth. "You kiss me. It's your choice. No one else is going to make you feel this way. Let me show you."
"Please," she whispered. This time she begged him to continue, not to stop.
"I don't know what makes you feel alive yet, but I'll find out." He whispered back, not taking his mouth away. "I want no secrets between us, so open your eyes. Look at me and show me you want what I can give you."
Her nipples peaked, and she shuddered. Fear paralyzed her for a split second, and she believed she couldn't do what he asked. Opening her eyes took all the strength she could muster, and when she gazed into his eyes, she admitted defeat. She wanted him, probably more than he wanted her.
His gaze heated. "All you have to do is kiss me."
Just a kiss. That was all.
She raised to her toes and pressed her lips against his mouth. Relief swept through him onto her as if he supplied her next breath. She opened her mouth. Her knees weakened.
Serge picked her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, securing her to him.
She lifted her mouth. "Promise you'll always want me."
He laid his cheek against hers. "I promise."
Excitement, trepidation, and, if she was honest, a small amount of reluctance remained. Yet, there was no denying that if he hurt her while giving her everything, it would be worth the pain and suffering if he kept his promise and never walked away from her.