Chapter 3
Anderson. Andie.
She stares at me with those big blue eyes that make my balls tighten. Her breaths quicken and she licks her lower lip, further torturing me.
She’s nervous as she obviously goes over my words again and again, working through the meaning of them. Two lines form between her brows as she mulls over the possibilities. But she doesn’t want to jump to the conclusion even though I’m doing nothing to hide it from my gaze.
“What do you want?” she finally asks.
“What do you think, Andie?” I tilt my head and allow my eyes to trail down her body once more. “I’d really like to hear your guess.”
“A favor.”
I chuckle. “Men who can do much more for me than you owe me favors. Tell me what you truly think I want from?—”
“Sex. You want to fuck me.” She glances toward the bed behind me.
My lips pull up and I lower the gun. “Come with me.”
Tossing the cash onto the dresser as we pass it, I guide her into my office. I circle my desk and motion to the chair across from me. When we’re both seated, I take my time observing her. It’s both a tactic to make her nervous, and an opportunity to enjoy her beauty. Like a scared little rabbit about to get devoured by a lion, she can’t do anything but let it happen.
Fuck, I can practically see the vein in her throat pulsating with the wild beat of her heart. It makes me want to lick her there. Maybe even bite her.
To my surprise, she speaks. “Mr. Alexander, please let me apologize for taking your money.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve seen your record.”
She blinks and swallows. “That was a long time ago. I did it to survive.”
“And now? How long have you been planning this?”
Peering at her lap where she’s wringing her hands, she shakes her head. “It was an impulse.”
“An impulse? Yet somehow you knew exactly where to find cash. Fuck, even I didn’t know there was anything there.”
“I’ve been storing it,” she admits. “It’s money I find in your laundry.”
“You mean, you’ve been saving it for yourself.”
“No!” She lifts her gaze to me indignantly. “I swear, I meant to tell you about it. To show you how something you don’t even miss could change someone’s life. But then my car broke down and I… I used the rent money to fix it and Lola’s clothes are so old… It seemed easy. I was going to pay you back, I was.”
“Bullshit.” I slam my fist against the desk and she jumps.
“There’s at least twenty thousand in there. If I meant to steal, why would I only have taken part of it?”
Furrowing my brow, I try to recall when the last time was that I dug in the back of my closet for anything. It’s been a while. Long enough that she’s managed to save thousands of dollars of my pocket change and kept it in a piggy bank of sorts.
Part of me is impressed. However, it’s the same part of me that wants to fuck her, so I ignore it.
“How did you plan on paying me back?” I ask. “Were you going to steal from someone else?”
She rolls her eyes and blows out a breath. “I didn’t plan that far ahead.”
“Of course not. Thieves rarely do.”
Her brows pinch together once more as she glares at me, and I have to fight the urge to reach over and smooth the lines between them. She doesn’t like being called a thief.
“Either way,” she snaps back. “You actually caught me putting the money back. I took it earlier, but regretted it.”
Hard to believe, but I’ll go with it for now. “Was it your conscience that made you return it, or were you just afraid you’d get sent to jail again?”
Lifting her blue gaze, she admits, “Both.”
“I can’t help you with your conscience,” I tell her. Fuck, I can’t do anything about mine, much less anyone else’s. “Your freedom is another matter.”
Andie straightens her spine, as if she’s steeling herself for whatever I’m about to throw at her. “Fine. What deal do you want from me?”
“One week.” I grin. “I want you to be my housekeeper for a week.”
She tucks her chin to her chest and peers at me through her lashes with suspicion. “I’m already your housekeeper.”
My grin widens. “Not the way you are in my fantasies.”
There’s a slight twitch in her left eye. She crosses her arms, a move that forces her breasts upward, and huffs. “Am I wearing a maid costume in those fantasies?”
“No.” I glance at the fullness of her cleavage. “In my fantasies, when I fuck you you’re dressed how you are now. Does it surprise you to know I’ve fucked you a million different ways in my mind, Miss Burrows?”
Though the red in her cheeks deepens, she does a good job of maintaining her composure. “I’ve done many things in my mind, Mr. Alexander. It doesn’t make them real.”
“Many things, huh? Have any of them involved me?”
She swallows and clears her throat. “Please stop beating around the bush and tell me exactly what you want from me.”
“I want you to stay here for a week. You will continue to keep my house. You will cook for me. You will wash my clothes. And you will give me your body whenever, wherever and in any way I please.”
Shaking her head, she says, “I can’t do that.”
“One way or another” —I smile because the thought pleases me— “you will pay the price for stealing. It’s either with me, or in jail.”
“I have a kid, Mr. Alexander. I can’t just up and leave whenever I want.”
“Get a sitter.”
“I can’t afford someone to come watch her day and night for an entire week!” She throws her hands up in exasperation.
“Then a relative.”
The flush on her skin deepens. “If you know I’ve done time before, then you know I have no family.”
“Fine. I will hire someone. Surely there have to be a million babysitters in Vegas.”
She glares at me with disbelief in her expression, her gaze narrowed and her lips in a thin, straight line. “It’s so obvious you don’t have children.”
“True. Children and wives are bad investments, so I’ve made it a point not to.” A choice I’m proud of.
A myriad of emotions cross Andie’s features at what I’ve said, all too difficult to read. Her mouth opens and shuts, as if she can’t figure out what she’d like to say, and in the end, chooses to say nothing at all.
Since I seem to have left her speechless, I’m the one that talks. “I’ve told you what I want from you. If you need money to make it happen, you obviously know where to get some.” I point in the direction of my bedroom. “And if you need more than you’ve already stashed in my closet, I’ll provide it.”
“And after that?”
“After that,” I shrug. “I’ll give you a good reference. I’m sure you can assume keeping your employment here after what you’ve done is out of the question.”
Her jaw tics and she looks from the door to me, as if she’s weighing her options. Pay me my due, or try to run.
“Don’t,” I warn her and her head snaps back to me.
In my world, bigger men than her have attempted to cheat me. Some in the casinos, others in the more dirtier side of my business. They’ve all paid a price.
“You usually get what you want?” she asks.
“Always.”
“Just like that, you’re blackmailing me into sleeping with you. Only bad men do that shit.”
“I never claimed to be anything else.” I stand and go to crouch behind her, leaning in close to inhale the scent of that maddening pony tail. Strawberries and vanilla invade my nostrils, seeping into my fucking soul, and I shut my eyes for a moment to savor it fully. “Since it’s clear you didn’t know your mark, I’m going to tell you who I am so that you never make the same mistake again. I’m a bad man, Miss Burrows. I’m a man that killed for a living. But I never stole a damn thing. That’s where I draw the line. I hate thieves.”
Without looking at me, she says, “Taking a life is stealing.”
“Not if belongs to me.”
“Interesting logic.” She turns her head slightly, her face coming dangerously close to mine. My gaze drops to her mouth. I want to kiss her now, forget getting her consent, just take what I want.
She must see the heat building inside me. “You have strange morals. You don’t steal, but take lives. You blackmail me into paying for my offense with my body, but won’t just rape me and take what you want because you consider it stealing. Is that what it is?”
“Exactly.”
I move nearer, bringing my mouth within inches of hers. Her rapid pants fan across my face and heat me further. But she doesn’t pull back and I don’t go closer.
“What will it be, Miss Burrows? Is a week of pleasure worth your freedom?”
Swallowing hard, she whispers, “A week of your pleasure, you mean.”
“Nothing would make me come harder than the sight of you writhing beneath me, falling apart. Begging me for more. And I want to come again and again, so...” Unable to resist myself, I reach for her hair and wrap the silken strands around my hand. “What will it be, Andie?”
Abruptly, she turns her face away and stands, pulling her hair from my palm.
“I accept.”