After a driver picks us up in a limo and drives us into Manhattan, I don’t push myself on Cage as he makes more calls. I know enough to realize he doesn’t owe me anything personal. The deal we made was only one of many daily transactions he deals in, and it isn’t as if I entered into this arrangement expecting to come out of it with a soul mate.

All I need is the money, and then I can take care of the past that keeps coming back to haunt me.

Get rid of my stubborn problem once and for all…

Even though hurt keeps nudging me, I keep repeating this, even as we’re dropped off in front of Cage’s skyscraper. There, a doorman tips his hat to him and professionally smiles at me as we enter the extravagant lobby with its sleek black floor and a light fixture whose round bulbs shower down from the ceiling in a sparkling show.

After we ride up in the black-tiled and gold-trimmed elevator, Cage brings me to his duplex, which is probably about 10,000 square feet and costs millions of dollars. Even if he is distracted, he efficiently shows me around, and I’m blown away with the Swarovski crystal chandelier in the main room, as well as the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that feature views into the heart of Manhattan. Everything is high-tech: the security system, the entertainment offerings, and even the kitchen where a private chef is on call.

Once again, I’m like a princess in a fairy tale, although based on what happened in the jet, I’m sure my Prince Charming is going to ride off into the sunset all by himself after he gets his ultimate way with me.

But, hey—why should I complain when I’m with a hot billionaire who’s giving me money, amazing orgasms, and the finest luxury amenities that a woman can have? Not too shabby, and I’m going to enjoy it the best I can and not worry so darn much.

And it gets much easier to enjoy once Cage shows me to “my” bedroom.

There’s an oversized cushioned gold headboard for my king-sized bed, which rests on a raised, thickly carpeted platform. Sculpted golden lamp fixtures and tasteful modern paintings decorate the room.

When I peek inside the walk-in closet, I laugh in glee. “Clothes?” I ask.

“They’re all your size,” he says. “My assistant asked the Highest Bidder to provide that information so she could supply you with what you’ll need. I thought you should have something to wear besides what you have in your bag.”

The website did ask for my size, probably just in case their billionaires want to pamper their girls like this. “Thank you for thinking of that.”

I run my fingertips over a gorgeous silk shift that one of his dates in those paparazzi photos might’ve worn. Little, black, and elegant.

I feel Cage standing behind me, and I drop my hand to my side.

“I’d like to choose what you’ll be wearing for the rest of the day, Karini.”

His voice is sandpaper rough, and it scrapes over me, burning my skin. It seems he’s back to paying attention to me now, and I can’t stop myself from imagining him taking the simple dress that I’m currently wearing off of me like more gift wrap.

“Which dress are you thinking of?” I ask softly.

When he walks into the closet, he brushes by me, and I shiver. Did he do that on purpose?

His expression tells me nothing as he peruses the selection on the racks in front of him—nightwear, daywear, an array of shoes. He finally pulls something down on its hanger.

It’s a lovely yet unremarkable filmy shift the color of sea foam. It’s sweet yet elegant.

He moves toward me then rests it against my body, as if to see how I’ll look in it. But I’m only thinking of the slight pressure of the dress as the fabric whispers over me. I never thought having Cage cover me up would make my stomach flip like it’s doing right now.

When he slips a hand around so that his palm rests against my shoulder blade, I hold my breath. And when he guides me toward a full-length mirror, it feels as if I’ve been ignited through and through.

There I am in the reflection, everyday average me, my light brown hair resting on my shoulders, my eyes wide as Cage holds the dress over the front of me. When I meet his gaze in the mirror, my belly joins my stomach in its circus of somersaults.

“This brings out the color of your beautiful eyes,” he murmurs.

I look again, and he’s right—my eyes aren’t just a boring gray anymore; they’ve picked up the blue-green hue of the dress.

Cage’s hand slips down my shoulder blade, and in the mirror I see that he’s lost focus. He’s watching his fingers trail down me as if he’s entranced.

Just as my heart begins to piston in my chest, he stops touching me and hands me the dress, already on his way out the door. “Be ready in ten minutes.”

Ten? Does he think I can put myself through a car wash or something?

But I won’t argue. “We’re going somewhere?”

“We’ve been cooped up in a jet, then a car. I need some fresh air.”

Suddenly he sounds irritated. Did I do something wrong?

What now?

I think about his whiplash change in temperament on the jet after he gave me oral—from intense to removed. What’s with him?

But he’s gone, and I don’t waste time messing around. I strip, choose a cute pair of Valentino slide sandals to go with the dress, then jump into the bathroom to wash up.

I do get a little sidetracked there by all the sumptuous soaps, gels, and fragrances he ordered someone to stock for me—at least I think they were purchased for me and not someone else. But I manage to meet him in the foyer in ten minutes flat.

He’s still in his business suit as I sweep past him to the door with a you-didn’t-think-I-could-do-it-didja smile. He lifts a dark brow.

I lean back against the door. “You probably thought I was going to pamper myself too much and keep you stewing out here. I think those toiletries in my bathroom were actually a Venus Fly trap you set for me, but I was up to your ten-minute challenge.”

Now he’s back to looking amused. “I guess you’re onto me.”

If only.

He leads me into the elevator, and as we descend, he leans against the black-tiled wall. I catch him giving me an approving, lustful look, and I warm right up again.

“You wear that well, Karini,” he says.

“Not too much wrapping?”

“Oh, I like the wrapping. It only means I get to unwrap you again.”

Hoo-boy. I try not to flush under his compliment, to take it with grace, even though it’s always been hard for me to do that with anyone.

“Thank you, Cage,” I make myself say.

His raises both eyebrows now. “’Cage,’ is it?”

“Should I call you ‘Mr. Bryant’? Especially in public?” I’m not actually bantering. I mean it.

He seems to turn that over in his mind.

“Did you plan on taking me out in public?” I ask. “Or is this a whim?”

After all, he did hire me on impulse.

He stands away from the wall, his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t plan anything about this…except for that closet full of clothing.”

Huh. I think I threw him a curveball with my questions, and it makes me happy that I can play in his league—at least in this way. He probably doesn’t get many curveballs from people. In fact, I get the feeling it’s even refreshing for him.

He gives me a sidelong look, then graces me with a naughty smile. “You really do look gorgeous.”

My body is just beginning the familiar process of steaming up when the elevator dings and the doors slide open. Needing to cool it, I head out. I still don’t know how to react to all his compliments. I wish I’d learned how to do that even before today though. If I had, I might not be in such trouble back in the real world…

His long, slow strides allow him to catch him up to me as we emerge onto the city sidewalk. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you can’t take flattery, Karini. Surely I’m wrong.”

I don’t want to talk about the awkwardness I thought I’d grown out of before realizing I’d never left it behind. I’d rather trade light jokes with him, tease him a little so that he isn’t always so serious. Have him tease me.

Traffic rolls past us, the thin squeal of brakes echoing off the high buildings, the slight humidity surrounding me. Storefronts beckon with windows showcasing trendy clothing and high-end restaurants.

“So,” I say, changing the subject at breakneck speed. “Where’re we going?”

I know he knows that I’ve shifted gears, and he drops the topic. And why not? We’re hardly working on a relationship here.

“What’s your stance on ice cream?” He’s still got his hands tucked into his pockets while controlling the pace of our walk. I don’t know how he looks so cool, even during summer.

“Hmm, ice cream,” I say. “My stance is that I like it.”

He laughs, more relaxed than usual. Some of his thick brown hair even waves in the breeze coming from the passing cars. “How would you like to get some right now?”

“Ice cream is good any time. Any time is ice cream time.” Giddy because this day is going so well, I grin at him, but then frown. “I’m not sure you’re the ice cream type though.”

“What does that mean?”

“You don’t seem like the kind of person who’s in to pastel flavors, jimmies, and foofy sauce.”

“Everybody’s got a bit of a kid in them.”

“You?” I laugh. “You were a kid once upon a time? I get the impression that you were born such a serious man.”

Once again, I think I’ve said the wrong thing, because his gaze goes dark, and he fixes his gaze straight ahead of us.

“You never know about a person,” he says.

That’s when I clam up, because he’s right. If he knew everything about me, he might not want to take me anywhere. I can guarantee my family and friends would feel that way if they ever found out about the secret I’m trying so hard to keep by earning this money.

When we enter the ice cream parlor, blushing pink lights, stained glass lamps, and quirky decorations greet us. Cage orders for me, of course—a banana split. He gets a frozen hot chocolate for him.

Meanwhile, the customers stare at him. He’s that magnetic, towering over everyone else, a strong, designer-suited giant among mortals.

A few men also look at me, but I think it’s the dress. At any rate, Cage glares at them and they stop.

He leads me to a table while carrying our treats, but before we get there, a male voice calls out to him.

“Cage Bryant!”

There’s the trace of an accent—Russian?—and an older man dressed in an impeccable suit comes over to shake Cage’s hand.

“Mr. Vasiliev.” Cage seems genuinely glad to see him. “I had no idea you’re in town.”

“We only just arrived.” The man is all kinds of wealthy, from his striped silk tie to his diamond cuff links to his steel and gold watch. His silver hair is styled in what I’d guess is a $500 haircut, and he also holds himself with a sort of old-school, refined air, almost as if he walked out of another century. “My grandchildren—they insisted we have frozen hot chocolate during our visit. I see you had the same idea.”

Cage lifts his dessert to the man, then says, “Indeed. Are you here on business or pleasure?”

“It is business that brings me here most unexpectedly.”

Mr. Vasiliev’s attention turns to me. He’s curious about who I am, and my adrenaline kicks in, making my mind race.

Is this man an important business associate? More importantly, is he savvy enough to know an escort when he sees one? I mean, I’m sure not dressed like a colleague, so he won’t mistake me for that. I’m dressed as if Cage and I might be on a date...

Mr. Vasiliev bows to me, and I extend my hand, still trying to think fast. He cordially kisses the back of it.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

The words are out of my mouth before I can take them back.

“I’m Karini,” I say. “Cage’s girlfriend.”