Chapter 9 #2
This was a man who was completely sure of himself. He wasn’t being arrogant right now. He just seemed settled. Confident. Like a man who knew his net worth, his shoe size, his blood type, and his five-year plan without even glancing at a note.
Despite myself, I smiled back at him and leaned into my seat, forcing myself to look away and glancing out of the window as the jet lifted into the clouds.
When I finally snuck another peek at him, he’d also relaxed back in his chair, one ankle resting lazily over his knee, but he was still looking right at me.
Studying me like I was a puzzle he fully intended to crack.
Our eyes met and that silly electricity started humming again, right under my skin, so close to the surface and yet I had to find a way to keep it from rising.
“You know what? I’ll play,” he said. “How much do you think I’m worth?”
I blinked, shoving that electricity as far down as I could. It didn’t mean anything. It was just a natural consequence of being in the presence of someone who owned the whole damn world and knew it.
“Is that a trick question?” I asked. “Or do you really want me to guess?”
Those blue eyes were sparkling again, his posture relaxed and his carved-by-the-angels features surprisingly open. “Humor me.”
I gave him a long look, not sure if he actually meant what I thought he meant. “You want a number?”
He shrugged, those slender, strong fingers resting in his lap. He wasn’t fidgeting. In fact, he didn’t seem nervous or uncomfortable about this at all. “I want your number.”
“You mean financially, right?”
He smirked. “In this context, yes.”
My cheeks tried so, so hard to flush, but I clenched my jaw and tried really hard not to wonder about his other number.
I probably didn’t want to know, but crap.
Now that he’d said it, I was wondering how many women had had the pleasure of seeing what he hid under all that corporate armor—and I was also suddenly wondering what it would take to join their ranks.
“I don’t know,” I finally said. “A few hundred million? Maybe more. Honestly, it doesn’t really matter to me.”
His brow twitched upward. “No?”
“No.” I met his gaze directly. “Because I can see, and think, past money. But apparently, you can’t.”
That got his attention. “Excuse me?”
Thankfully, he didn’t seem angry. It was more like he was amused, like I’d thrown him a curve ball and he was genuinely delighted to catch it.
“You heard me,” I said, arms crossing over my chest. “You wear your wealth like armor and you seem surprised when someone doesn’t flinch at the sight of it.
You’re used to getting what you want, but not because you’ve earned it.
Because you can afford to buy it. Money matters to you. Perhaps more than anything else.”
Those eyes blazed into mine, but something sharper was hiding behind his smile now. “You don’t know me at all.”
“True.” I shrugged. “I also don’t want to.”
His smile widened like I’d just complimented him. “See? Now that’s interesting.”
I frowned. “Why are you smiling?”
“Because you keep trying to throw punches, but I think you’re starting to like the way I block them.”
All of this, he said completely calmly and without inflection, his voice as smooth and as even as ever. I gaped at him. “You’re insufferable.”
“I’ve been called worse.” He leaned in slightly. “You’re surprisingly feisty.”
I turned to the window before my face could give me away. Because he was right. I never spoke to people like this. I didn’t usually snap. I was the kind of person who sent thank-you texts after meetings and let cars merge in front of me in traffic.
But with Sterling? That fire my dad had ingrained in me was coming out in full force. Dad had always insisted that it was burning bright right beneath the surface and that it would be there if I needed it.
The weirdest part of it all was that I didn’t dislike this sharp, rude banter. I didn’t dislike the man I was having it with. It was more that I suspected he could take it. There was a big difference there.
I didn’t want to fight with him. I simply wanted to be heard and something about Sterling made me want to be loud enough that he would be the one to hear me.
Before I could unpack that any further, the flight began its descent.
The wheels kissed the tarmac so smoothly I didn’t even realize we’d landed until I saw palm trees and then we were whisked from the plane.
I hurried along after Sterling and a man who looked a lot like Steve, and a short ride on a golf cart later, we were pulling up to what looked like another private hangar.
What fresh display of excess does this guy have planned next?
A large, rolling door moved up to reveal a car. It was a swanky convertible that looked like a collector’s piece, and when the Steve lookalike pulled it into the sunlight, it gleamed like it had been waxed with unicorn tears.
Black with a red leather interior, it was probably older than both of us, but he opened the door for me without comment. Like this was all just normal. A normal day after a normal plane ride on a perfectly normal jet.
I got in, deciding that if he could do it without saying a word, then so could I. The next thing I knew, we were driving up the coast with the top down, sea air whipping through my ponytail and the sun kissing my shoulders.
Every curve of the Pacific Coast Highway made my breath catch. When we finally turned off of it, we ventured inland, eventually winding up a driveway that looked like it belonged on a magazine cover.
“Welcome to my house,” he said, speaking for the first time in what seemed like hours. “Or my estate, to be more accurate.”
I knew enough about LA to know we were in Malibu and that his place was unreal.
It had low-slung modern lines, wide glass walls, citrus trees in neat rows out back, and an actual pool that looked like it had no end.
He led me inside, casually pointing to a stunning guest suite that was nicer than any hotel I’d ever stayed in.
“This is you,” he said. “You’ve got about twenty minutes if you want to change. I’ve taken the liberty of arranging for us to see some storefronts.”
I nodded, taking a look around and wondering if I was allowed to touch anything. “This place is…”
“Comfortable,” he finished for me, like it was no big deal.
Those eyes pinned on mine, and for a moment, I could’ve sworn I saw desire in them. It was like all the oxygen suddenly got sucked out of the room and I couldn’t look away from him. There was a bed only a few feet away and?—
Think about something else! Now.
“Uh, is what I’m wearing okay?” I asked, gesturing to my yoga pants and cropped tank.
He looked at me. Really looked. It wasn’t just a fast glance. It was a long, deliberate sweep of his gaze that ran from my sneakers to my collarbone and back again. This time, I knew I wasn’t imagining things when his pupils dilated a little. I even noticed him swallow before he replied.
“It’s fine,” he said quickly, then cleared his throat. “Totally fine.”
My skin suddenly felt a little too tight. Since he was still looking at me, I nodded, grabbed my bag, and escaped into the en-suite bathroom. Wow, that was intense. How can one person always be that intense and why am I even feeling like this? I hate him.
I shut the door behind me with a decisive click, locking it just to be sure, and then I stared at myself in the mirror. I still looked like me, but something felt like it was different. Like even this brief amount of time I’d spent with him had somehow changed me.
After shaking my arms out at my sides, I forced myself to focus and freshened up, pulling my hair into as sleek a ponytail as I could manage and changing into high-waisted jeans with a white, breezy blouse that made me feel like a grown-up version of myself.
Confident. Capable. Definitely still a little floored.
When I finally left the suite, he was already waiting by the door, hands in his pockets and a pair of fancy sunglasses perched on top of his head.
“Ready?” he asked as he pulled the door open.
Not even close. “Yep. Let’s go find out if LA has any storefronts that can survive a Westwood.”
He chuckled under his breath, following me out after I breezed past him.
As we climbed back into his convertible, I wasn’t sure if it was the sun, the house, the man, or the possibility of something finally being mine, but I felt like something big was just getting started, and I had absolutely no idea what to do about it.