Alex
That son of a bitch. It’s my own tactic. You bring up the deal so quickly and in front of the parties it’s supposed to benefit that the opposing party has no choice but to agree or look like a total asshole.
Now Hailee is not just under my roof, but my protection. Her safety is my responsibility. I had to take off to my room on the third floor or risk stripping her naked right there in the foyer. If I’m doing Lucas such a big favor, how could he protest if Hailee and I get a little close for the duration of her stay?
A girl like her has never stayed under my care without being a pet by the time they walk out the door, but unlike an animal shelter, they always show up pawing to get back in. That’s the problem.
Not sex. Attachment. If I have sex with Hailee, then she’s mine until I’m done with her. I don’t fuck once. I want complete obedience. I like to make women realize that they will search the world over and not find another fuck like me. One who’s not only good in bed but will jet them to Venice for dinner because the Rainbow Room was booked and I didn’t feel like name dropping for a table.
The problem is they all want love in the end. But love is for kids. It’s a chemical to get you to stick with a mate and nothing more. What I feel now for Hailee is stronger than love anyway. It’s a lust that causes me to dig my nails into my palms.
I’m thinking of Hailee and ravishing her from behind until her ankles shake and she sets her palm flat against my abs to get me to stop thrusting.
But I’m being a fool. I want her because I’m stressed. Because she’s beautiful. Not because I like her any more than any other woman.
I could snap my fingers and have this place filled with models from around the globe. But I’ve met a lot of ugly beautiful women since becoming a billionaire, and Hailee is anything but. God. I loathe the expression, but I suppose there’s a reason it’s survived for thousands of years.
Inside and out, that girl is gorgeous.
Lucky for me, I won’t be home to be tempted by her this first night. I’m going to see my friend James Callaway at our cigar club. By the time I get home, I plan to be in a scotch-induced stupor. I might even start using the garage entrance, where I keep a few of my personal cars, so I run less risk of running into her.
I put on a fresh dress shirt and tie and start downstairs. My timing couldn’t be poorer. I see Hailee walking up to the second floor. Cooper is carrying her large suitcase, while she has another duffel slung over her shoulder. It’s too late to duck back and wait for her to pass. We make eye contact.
“Let me give you a hand,” I say and finish walking down to the second-floor landing. I take the duffel bag from her and walk her to the red room. It’s not as red as the name suggests. Just the bedspread and curtains. Cooper sets her suitcase down and goes to retrieve another one, and I follow suit.
I set her duffel down and frown as something begins to hum and thump against the floor.
“Um. Oh shit.” Hailee starts fumbling with the bag. “It’s my stupid massage gun.”
“A what?”
“Like a Thera gun? All the athletes have them.”
I stand straight. “You’re an athlete?” I say, genuinely confused.
“No. I sit at a desk eight hours a day. That’s its own kind of sport.”
“Oh, I was going to say it sounds like a vibrator,” I say plainly. It probably is a vibrator.
Hailee turns as red as the curtains, and she’s still not opening the bag to turn it off.
Oops.
“Let Cooper know if you need anything. There’s hardly anything he can’t get,” I say and leave to give her the privacy she needs. I’m only a few steps down the hall when she comes out of her room.
“Hey,” she calls, and I turn. “Are you going somewhere tonight?”
“Yes. I can’t make it to dinner, but did you meet Pierre?”
“Yes… Charming fella,” she says with a bit of peculiarity.
Pierre is strange. He’s a Frenchman who speaks broken English and has a penchant for saying fuck or cunt every other word.
“Don’t let his bad mouth fool you. He makes incredible food.”
“I don’t doubt it. But I was wondering, is there a TV up here?”
“Down the hall, last left.” I point.
“Thanks.”
I start to go towards the stairs but stop when she speaks again.
“And …”
I look back at her.
“Thanks for letting me stay here. I know Lucas is probably just being paranoid, but I really appreciate the gesture.”
“It’s not a problem.”
“See you around, I guess,” Hailee says, looking shyly into my eyes, her head half turned to the floor.
Why on earth is my heart thumping like I just bench pressed three hundred pounds? It’s her big brown eyes, the smooth skin on defined cheekbones. I just want to screw her. That is all.
And that is not happening.
I don’t respond. I simply nod and go downstairs. I’ve decided it’s better for both of our sakes if I’m an asshole. The last thing I need is a distraction, and she doesn’t need me making her life any worse.
If we’re going to live together, it will be as ships in the night. Each to their own lives. But as I walk towards the garage, something like guilt is chewing my insides.
I’m picturing Hailee upstairs, sitting on the edge of the bed in this strange, monstrous house, alone. Worried that’s what she’s going to feel for the next few weeks.
I try to put the image out of my head, but as I continue to walk to the garage and to my car, her shy, downturned eyes are all I can see.