1. Corm
Chapter 1
Corm
“ W hat else do I have today?” I throw my jacket on the bed and start undressing.
My assistant sighs and turns around. He’s been complaining about the lack of boundaries. He hasn’t been complaining about the paycheck. And since I sign the paycheck, I set the boundaries.
Sometimes, I just enjoy messing with him. It’s not like I need to take a shower in the middle of the day.
“Saar van den Linden is coming,” he says.
I pause. Maybe I need the shower after all. “What does she need again?”
He flips through his notebook. “She didn’t want to say, but you agreed to meet her, regardless.”
It’s obvious he doesn’t remember why she is coming, or he forgot to ask, but after spending my morning and early afternoon on conference calls, her visit might be fun.
The woman’s face and body are on display on billboards and posters all around the world. She is stunning.
I’m intrigued by her interest in me. I’m prepared to return it tenfold if she grabs my interest.
Unfortunately, most women can’t keep my interest for too long. When the initial physical attraction runs its course, it just becomes a dull transaction.
“Okay, I’ll have a quick shower. She can wait a moment.”
After I let the hot water beat down on my muscles, I wrap a fluffy white towel around me. I enjoy having a suite at the Aman Hotel. Their facilities and services are state-of-the-art.
Their business boardrooms are perfect for my needs, and having a bedroom a few floors above is a good perk. Sometimes, I don’t even bother going down to the boardroom.
I purchased a house two months ago, but even at almost thirty, I’m not ready to leave this lifestyle yet. Perhaps ever.
I bought the house to appease my parents. To get Dad off my case.
Ever since his condition started deteriorating, he’s been preaching about not wasting my life.
From my perspective, I’m living it to the fullest, not wasting time, because what his diagnosis taught me is that life is too short.
Maybe I’ll rent the house. It’s huge for one person, anyway. When I’m not out or traveling for business, even this room feels like the loneliest place in the world. I can’t even imagine how a house would feel.
The movement behind the frosted glass of the double door suggests my visitor has already arrived.
Hastily, I open my wardrobe. I shouldn’t keep her waiting. Why bother with clothes for this visit, anyway?
Sliding the door open, I drawl, “Saar van den Linden, what a pleasant surprise.”
She whips around, smiling. It’s a smile I know well. I won’t pretend I didn’t admire her pictures before. I mean, I’m just a man.
She takes me in, and her smile fades as she blinks. Fuck, she is more beautiful in real life.
Curls of dark blond hair frame her face. It’s not the traditionally beautiful face. She has a sharp nose and cheekbones, almost masculine features. But somehow, they create an allure that draws me in.
Having dated models before, even famous ones, I shouldn’t feel this impacted by her.
And yet, she has this contradictory energy around her—confidence and vulnerability. She’s holding her chin high, but she’s fidgeting with her fingers.
And she is ogling me with wide eyes, raking her gaze down my torso. She seems half-surprised that I’m wearing only a towel, and half-attracted to what she sees.
I smirk, letting her admire until she catches herself, a pink hue rising to her cheeks. God, she’s adorable.
“Why are you naked?” she blurts out, flustered.
“I was running late for our meeting, so I thought I’d better find out why you are here.” I hold her gaze.
Her eyes twitch, and I can almost feel her need to look away. She fists her hands but perseveres, glowering.
“That doesn’t explain your lack of clothes.”
I keep her imprisoned in my gaze. I enjoy seeing her squirm, but I admire the fact that she doesn’t surrender to the uncomfortable feeling.
Women don’t even try to resist me—my charm or my demands. Not that I complain. But this woman is fighting with herself; I can see the war behind her eyes, and fuck, that’s refreshing.
“I just thought that we might move to your reason for this visit rather fast, and then the clothes will come off anyway.” I lean against the door frame, crossing one ankle over the other.
Her eyes widen. “You think I’m your booty call?”
I keep holding her gaze, trying to read her. Her eyes narrow slightly, lips pressing together—she’s clearly exasperated. But she’s not walking away.
Even if she came for a completely different reason—and I can’t fathom what that would be—she is still here. Raking her gaze over my pecs.
“Aren’t you?”
“That’s preposterous. Why would I call your office if I wanted to fuck you? Why did you agree to the meeting in the first place?”
Okay, I don’t know what the game is, but I’m half-entertained and half-annoyed now. “Because you’re very attractive.” I smile, and she flinches. She fucking flinches.
“I told your assistant I want to talk about your Hudson River property.” She throws her arms up.
I guess said assistant just lost his bonus.
“I’ll be right back,” I snap and return to the bedroom, shutting the doors with such force that they bounce back.
What the fuck? She wants to talk business? Why? What’s the significance of the Hudson River property?
That building is prime real estate, but it cost me only a headache.
A headache that started when I lost the designer, courtesy of Finn van den Linden, Saar’s brother. He threw a tantrum when I wanted to hire his girlfriend.
Whatever that was about, I don’t know. Dude hates me for some reason. But how does it tie up with the supermodel in the next room?
I yank a shirt from a hanger, find my underwear, and almost grab my jeans. Fuck that, she came to talk business, she will get a businessman. Why am I even so upset about it?
I put on a three-piece suit with a tie and return to the room.
She hasn’t moved from her spot by the window, and I’m struck for the second time by her presence.
Physical beauty aside, the air of fragility around her doesn’t quite match the determination in her eyes.
A pretend determination. Based on her fist clenching, the sheen of perspiration around her hairline, and her labored breath—that she’s trying to hide—she is even more nervous than before.
And for some outlandish reason, that intrigues me.
“Well, Saar, have a seat, and tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I flick my wrist and glance at my watch. “You have five minutes.”
Glaring, she takes a seat by the fireplace. The seat is softer than she expected—I’ve sunk there myself before—but she somehow manages to fold her legs with grace.
I don’t sit. Instead, I put my hands into my pockets and glare at her down my nose.
She fidgets, adjusting her skirt.
“Anytime this century, Saar. Preferably in the next minute, though,” I say, not trying to cover the impatience in my voice.
I’m growing not only impatient but also upset with myself. Or just annoyed because of the misunderstanding. The reason for her visit feels like a rejection. I’m not used to those.
“I’d like you to sell the building to my brother Finn,” she blurts out in one breath, avoiding my eyes.
Her request takes me by surprise. I tilt my head, observing her with a mix of curiosity and irritation. Her brother sent her?
He might hate my guts, but he is a good businessman. Why would he send his little sister to close a deal like this?
“I thought you were a model,” I muse.
She frowns, like she doesn’t follow.
“What made you believe you can close a real estate deal?” I elaborate.
I’m being unfair. I know nothing about her, and for all I know—or rather don’t know—she could be a real estate genius.
Judging by her anxiety, though, I doubt that. At the same time, I respect the shit out of her for showing up here, believing she can get me to sell that property.
Heat rises to her cheeks, and she stands up. Only her legs don’t unfold fast enough, and she stumbles.
My legs move of their own accord, and I catch her by the elbow. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through my body.
“Models don’t have brains?” she accuses, yanking her arm away from me.
The touch affected me more than I’d like to let on. She has looks, guts, and we have chemistry. It’s a shame I don’t mix business with pleasure.
I study her for a moment, trying to decide what her angle is. “What’s your offer?”
She startles, visibly shaking at my question. Did she come here not believing she’d get this far? Fuck, this is more intriguing than it should be.
“Look, my brother is the one interested in buying it, but given your relationship, I’m assuming you won’t sell it. I came here to see what it would take to motivate you.”
I raise one eyebrow, smirking. Now we’re talking.
“Not that,” she blurts out.
I chuckle. She’s like a spooked horse, but she’s not giving up.
“That building is not for sale. It’s enough that my plans with it got delayed because your brother threw a tantrum.”
“Everything is for sale,” she counters, and steps back when she realizes how her words sound.
I step closer, her perfume invading my nostrils. She swallows hard.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered with my clothes then.”
Her gaze. Her scent. Her voice. For a brief moment, she owns me.
“That’s harassment,” she rasps.
I sneer. “I thought everything was for sale.”
We stare at each other for what feels like a very long time, but the light outside hasn’t changed, so it must be just a moment.
I’m transfixed by her whole being. No picture, no poster does her justice. She’s just too imperfectly perfect.
“Why?” I ask, still crowding her.
She blinks, but to her credit, she doesn’t move. I intimidate and people cower, but not Saar van den Linden.
“Why?” she repeats.
Okay, now she’s dragging this out unnecessarily. I step back to regain control over my body, my cock twitching in my pants. Part of me immediately regrets the distance. I shove that part to the side.
“Jesus, woman, keep up. Why did your brother send you? Especially since he wants the building, and clearly he didn’t send you to seduce me to get it.”
I adjust my cufflinks, the conflicting energy coursing through my veins.
“Finn doesn’t know I’m here.”
Few things surprise me, and yet here we are. “I don’t understand.”
Which is kind of refreshing because usually, I’m the one two steps ahead while the others can’t catch up.
She frowns, scrunching her lips to the side, and seems to deliberate for a moment. “Finn wants the building, and I want him to be happy, so I thought… Well, I wasn’t thinking.” She groans, shaking her head.
Now, that raw honesty is a fucking turn-on. Besides her loyalty to her brother, I kind of wish we could start over, forget the building, and just get to know each other.
Not only between the sheets. The thought shocks me, and now I’m even more annoyed.
“You came to motivate me to do something that makes no business sense to help your brother behind his back?”
She nods, rolling her eyes. Not at me, more at the situation, I think. Fuck, she’s adorable.
“That is the most preposterous thing I’ve heard, and I’m mostly surrounded by idiots.”
“Are you calling me an idiot?”
Most certainly not. “’I’ve not decided yet.”
She gives me a look that would kill. I feel its hatefulness down to my bones.
“You know what? Go fuck yourself. I don’t need you to humiliate me. This was a mistake. Just forget I was ever here.”
She pushes past me and marches to the door.
“Saar, wait—”
But she doesn’t stop. That is most possibly the first time someone didn’t obey me.
I hate it. I respect it. I hate that I respect it.
Rooted to the spot, I call my realtor. “Jack, find out discreetly if Finn van den Linden wants to buy the Hudson River property.”
“Okay, why?”
“I want to sell it to him.”
“To him in particular? And why are you selling it—?”
“Just fucking do it.”
I hang up and stare at the space where I got the last glimpse of her.
I think I’ve just met my future wife.