On this drizzly day, I’m more certain than ever that Travis has me around so he can experience new things through me, especially if he’s seen and done it all in this city.

We’re standing under the umbrella Travis is holding in one of the gardens at the Cloisters in upper Manhattan. It’s a museum that looks like a pale-stoned Gothic masterpiece since the galleries and buildings were excavated from French monasteries and abbeys then relocated here. From my own research before I came to New York, I already knew about the indoor chapels and rooms filled with art and objects. In fact, I’d put on my Highest Bidder website application that I wanted to visit this place.

It was a surprise when Travis brought me here, though. After I’d showered and dressed this morning, Travis wouldn’t disclose today’s surprise destination to me, and now he’s watching me closely as I absorb the atmospheric mood of the museum.

What the heck happened to him in life to make him so incapable of feeling for himself? Why does it sometimes seem like he can only see the world through my eyes?

As we walk alone through a tended medieval herb garden surrounded by four walkways, there’s a light in his eyes. My heart does its usual routine with him, whirling and flying around my chest, because he’s that damned handsome. He’d asked me to dress casual, and he’s done the same, wearing a crisp button down that’s rolled to his elbows to reveal his toned forearms. His jeans are worked in but neat, and his boots are polished.

“You really did read what I put on my Highest Bidder application,” I say as the light rain makes hushed sounds on the umbrella. “When I wrote about how I’d love to visit this place, I didn’t expect anybody to actually care.”

Since no one else is outside strolling the gardens, I’m not careful about what I say. Besides, Travis wanted honesty out of me, and he’s never chided me for giving that to him.

“I read every bit of what you provided,” he says. “And I did want to know all of it.”

I notice he didn’t say that he cares, but it was close enough.

He steers the subject in the direction he obviously wants it to go, as usual. “There was that question on the application about where you’d most like to visit in the world, and one of your answers was New York. That was one of the many reasons I bid on you. I wanted someone who’d appreciate my stomping grounds.”

I breathe in the fresh, rain-soaked air. I love the city itself but this place is magic, and I’m sure Travis brought me here because of its architectural design. “In all honesty, I would’ve chosen anywhere if it meant getting away from Gary. Still, I’ve always had my eye on this city. From what I read online and in books, it seemed I could walk around for weeks just taking in the architecture, the skyline, the way each neighborhood has either stayed basically the same or evolved over the years. New York has such character, just like...” I lick my lips but don’t say what I was thinking.

When he gazes down at me, there’s keen appreciation in his eyes. He likes how I look at his city, and how I look at him. Actually, I’ve almost forgotten this other academic side of myself during this fantasy week with Travis.

It’s startling to realize that I’m still the girl who wanted to go to college to study architecture. Now I’ll be able to do that, and now my mom and brother can go on with their lives after escaping from Gary, too, thanks to Travis.

Without thinking, I link my arm through his. As the rain drips slowly off of our umbrella and he doesn’t react to my intimate gesture, I wonder if he’s only tolerating this closeness, if he’ll unlink his arm at any moment.

Maybe I should be just as professional as he is. After all, he hired me for my company—and by that, I don’t mean my sparkling conversation.

I’m sure the next girl who comes along will provide the same service.

I slip out from the crook of his arm. No strings, no attachments…no more reminders of anything outside this fantasy he’s created for us.

My heart feels bruised in some secret way, but I paste a smile on my face and babble some small talk. “Just out of curiosity, what’s your home look like? Is it as ornate as all of this, or something minimalist and modern?”

“I’ll say that it doesn’t have stained glass in it.” He lifts his eyebrow. “Or is that not enough information for you?”

His tone hints that I’ve overstepped once again. I just can’t help myself.

But, much to my surprise, he continues. “My place is overkill. It was the first piece of property I bought back when I was still reeling from the fact that I had money.”

Uh, yeah. A lot of money, and I have only the scarcest details on how he earned it. No matter how much research I’ve done on him, Travis’s background is barely there. I still have no idea where he actually came from or who he is beyond the superficial.

“How many rooms does your residence have?” I ask.

“You haven’t been looking me up online to find out?”

Caught! “Of course I have, but you must’ve hired a killer PR person to watch over your informational output.”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

No wonder he’s so mysterious. He makes darn sure he’s that way.

“Does your place have over ten rooms?” I ask.

His amused expression tells me I’m way off.

“Jeez, more than that?” I say.

“Twenty.”

“Dear heavens.”

“I told you—overkill. I was very impressed with how the residence took up the seventh and eighth floors of the building.”

The drizzling rain has let up, and we stop in the middle of the garden. Travis shakes out the umbrella, and I admire him once again: so handsome, so aloof and unreachable. Questions clog my brain about the girls who have been with him before, and a split of jealousy pierces me.

“Can I ask you something else?” I say.

“Nothing has stopped you before.”

True. “When did you start bidding on women?”

He glances around, maybe to see if someone within hearing range can save him from this, but there’s no one besides us.

“Honesty,” I say. “Isn’t that our policy?”

“You have developed a habit of being very direct.”

“That should teach you, Travis. Be careful what you wish for.”

“Honesty was for you,” he corrects. “Not me.”

“So it’s not a two way street?” I say, bristling a little.

“Nothing in life is. Not in the world I live in, Nova,” Travis replies calmly.

I frown and let out a deep sigh. “Fine, forget it.”

“It’s been a few years since I signed up with Highest Bidder,” he says, as if he feels a bit badly about disappointing me. “The site wasn’t around before that.”

Even though there’s no future between Travis and me, I wonder if, right now at this exact moment, he might be seeing me as a real person instead of an object of desire or a convenience.

I give him a sidelong look, pushing my luck once again. “Do you know who else bid on me? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

Wait. What if he was the only person who participated in the auction? How mortifying would that be?

“You really want to know?” he asks.

“I shouldn’t have asked. That was dumb.”

I begin to walk away, but he grabs my hand and gently pulls me back to him.

“Damn, Nova,” he says, “you really don’t have any idea about yourself, do you?”

A flash from last night washes over me: That’s why I can’t get enough of you, Nova. You have no idea what you do…

My belly is knotted with lust and a sudden eagerness to go someplace by ourselves, where he can lay his hands and mouth all over me. I do have an idea of what I do to him. It’s right there in his longing gaze.

He saunters closer to me, then touches the capped sleeve of my yellow dress. “I can’t tell you who bid on you—I don’t even have that information—but the competition was fierce. It always is with girls who’ve never been with another man. But I paid a lot more for you than anyone else I’ve ever wanted.”

The question must be clear in my eyes. But why me?

His expression has gone back to being unreadable, but there’s a depth to his gaze that sucks me in, and as he traces his fingers over my chin, then my cheek, I try to see what’s inside of him.

Yet he’s too good at hiding it, and he playfully flicks me under the chin as if knowing what I was after.

The rain starts to sprinkle down on us again, leaving slight drops in his dark hair, on his gorgeous face. I feel the moisture on my skin, too, but we don’t move. We only stand in the garden at an impasse, my pulse sliding through me on its way down.

I’m going to miss him after this one final week is over. God, I really am. I’ve fallen into a trap that I should’ve seen coming, because Travis was my first.

I’m not sure I’ll ever have better, at least sexually.

He’s looking into my eyes, too, and I awkwardly glance up to the sky as if suddenly realizing that it’s raining. I grab his shirtsleeve and pull him to a walkway.

“This is a good time to see the Unicorn Tapestries,” I say in a cheery voice that erases the moment that just came between us.

He doesn’t say anything as I let go of him and walk inside the nearest building. I’m back to being his arrangement, and I tell myself that’s all I want to be, even if I’m sharply, heartbreakingly aware that the one I’ve stopped being honest with is myself.