Chapter Two
I passed through the next week like an automaton, going through the motions at work, on my blog, getting various things done. I felt poised on the brink of something—something big. But I wouldn’t let myself entertain that idea. This had to be smaller than me. This had to be an insignificant moment in my overall timeline. Soon it would be over and I’d move on with the rest of my life.
But I couldn’t help wondering what kind of person I would end up with. If I was lucky, I’d find him attractive, at least. Maybe he’d be good, gentle. He didn’t have to be amazing as I was hardly in a position to judge, given my lack of experience.
Ideas like these flickered through my mind and a couple times I caught myself fantasizing about this mystery guy and jumping every time the phone rang as I waited to hear back from Heath. Thus, when the phone finally did ring, it was no surprise that I was, again, in bed—this time for a quick nap after an overnight shift working in the ER.
“What?” I mumbled into the receiver, still mostly asleep.
“Were you sleeping?” Heath’s amused voice came over the line.
“Mm. Late shift last night, this morning.”
“Ah, okay. Well…get up and brew yourself a pot of coffee because I have your winner and he wants to meet you this afternoon.”
I groaned. “He can wait. I’m half-dead, Heath. Can’t we do this tomorrow? It’s my day off and I need some warning, I haven’t done laundry for—”
“No can do, doll. He has to fly to the East Coast on business first thing tomorrow. He won’t be back until the end of the week.”
“Heath…”
“Come on. I’ve reserved a private conference room at the Westin South Coast Plaza.”
I remembered my one serious skirt—a crisp business pencil skirt—was at the bottom of the clean laundry basket, wrinkled beyond recognition.
“I have to iron my skirt and my iron’s broken.”
“I’ll bring my iron when I pick you up.”
“I don’t have a board, either.”
“Then use the table, for chrissakes. Listen, I’m not here to solve your first-world, heterosexual female problems. Get up, get your makeup on and get with the program.”
I sighed and hung up, my heart racing. It occurred to me that he hadn’t told me whom he’d selected.
I followed his instructions, got up, showered, styled my hair and, surrendering to the inevitable, pulled it back into a ponytail because it wasn’t cooperating. My makeup went on satisfactorily and I was in my blouse—a white, tailored button-down—and skivvies when Heath showed up. He didn’t have his iron.
“What the hell, Heath?”
“I couldn’t find it. I think that stupid little twerp swiped it when he packed his crap and left.” He referred to the recent demise of his two-year relationship. It had not been a good breakup and Heath was still nursing the broken heart from it.
I shot him a puzzled look. “Who steals an iron?”
“Spoiled little brats like Brian, that’s who.”
I sighed and glanced at my pathetic excuse for a skirt.
“Why don’t you hang it up in the shower and run the hot water?” he asked.
“Give my skirt a shower?”
“The steam will take some of the wrinkles out. A dryer works, too.”
“Well, I don’t have a dryer, so I guess steam is going to have to do. Do you think it will work?”
“Hell no, but might as well try.”
I ran the shower until the hot water ran cold—which didn’t take long in my little studio. Since living here, I’d become the queen of the snappy shower. When I pulled the skirt off the hanger and tried to smooth out the damp cloth, it failed to cooperate.
Once dressed, I left the bathroom. Heath made a face and twirled his finger, signaling that I should turn around.
I complied. “That bad?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t take a fashion expert to see that that thing is a hot mess—literally.”
I blew out a breath. “How much time do we have? Maybe swing by the mall to pick up a loaner?”
He pulled out his cell phone, glanced at it and shook his head. “You’re going like that. Besides, he’s not paying the big bucks to sleep with your skirt, fortunately for you.”
I glared at him. “Sometimes you annoy the shit out of me.”
“I know.” He shrugged and jerked his shoulder toward the door and walked out. I followed him into a gorgeous spring afternoon.
Once in his blue Jeep Wrangler, Heath maneuvered his way to the nearest freeway entrance down sleepy residential streets cloaked in bright purple jacaranda and whispering pepper trees. Out on the wider boulevard, towering palms—ubiquitous in Southern California—shivered in the cool ocean breeze.
“So who is this guy?” I asked him as we zipped down the 55 freeway.
“You’ll find out soon enough. Name’s Drake.” He shot me a glance like I should know who that was. “Adam Drake.”
“And which rich dude is he?”
“The one from out here. Lives in Newport Beach, of course. Don’t they all?”
I snorted. “And you said he’s young?”
“A bit older than we are. Twenty-six.”
“So how’d he get so rich? Trust fund? Daddy’s company?”
“Nope, he’s completely self-made, actually.”
That bit of info blew me away. “How is that possible at his age?”
“He’s a software architect—video games.”
My mouth opened in surprise. Heath’s sense of irony was not lost on me. “I can see why you picked him. He develop anything that I know?”
Heath shrugged. “Maybe.”
I shot him a pointed glance. “Just how thorough was your background check?”
“Oh God. I think I know him like a brother by now. We spoke on Monday for three hours. Then had another long chat on Wednesday on the phone. I was already half in love with him before I even met Mr. New York.”
I snorted again.
“Yeah, don’t do that when you are in there. He might back out of the whole thing if he hears you laughing like a piglet.”
I slapped his shoulder with the back of my hand and he grinned.
Not half an hour later, we sat at a glass-and-chrome conference table in black leather chairs, sleek granite décor ensconcing us in all that was modern and exuding wealth. I’d driven by this hotel many times but never been inside—and never hoped to have the chance to stay in a place so nice.
My hands drummed on my lap, slapping against my bare knees. Heath stopped me once by placing his large hand across mine but I only resumed the minute he removed it.
“You’re driving me up a tree with that.”
I shot him a look. He’d just have to deal with my nerves. “Are we really that early?”
“No, he’s late.”
“If he was that anxious to meet me today, shouldn’t he be here on time?”
“He’s coming up the 405. After three, it’s an instant parking lot. He’s probably stuck in traffic.”
I huffed. “Can’t he take the filthy rich limo lane or something?”
Before I could even finish my sentence, two men approached the frosted glass door to the conference room. One of them leaned forward to snap open the door. He was the taller of the two and wore his dark hair in a close-cropped style. The other man—well, I hardly noticed him when I locked eyes with the first man’s obsidian stare.
Heath and I jerked to our feet. My pulse ratcheted up to a near-fatal rate, threatening acute hypertension. The first guy with the dark eyes was the software mogul—I would have bet my every measly belonging on it. He hesitated at the doorway once he’d caught a full glimpse of me, and my breath caught when I looked into his stunningly handsome face.
He was about six feet tall and wearing an expensive suit—the kind with a vest under the jacket that looked like it had been tailored for him, hugging his tapered waist and slim hips. The suit looked so good on him that I knew it had to be designer, even though I was the first one to confess that I knew nothing about designer anything.
He was finely built but not imposing. His slacks clung to muscular thighs, his jacket stretched across solid but not broad shoulders. His suit was a crisp steel gray with a slightly darker shirt and tie. The silver tie clip caught the light and my eyes flicked to it and then back to his face. He had the chiseled masculinity of a marble god. All angles and strong, clean lines.
My heart felt like it might fibrillate or—as a non-medical student would say—flutter. I’d never been so strongly affected by a man. Especially one I’d only just laid eyes on. His dark eyes met mine and my chest felt like it was about to explode. He stopped, his eyes narrowing. While he gave me the once-over, I sucked in a lungful of air because I’d almost forgotten to breathe during this initial lightning strike.
Shit. It was at that precise moment that I realized I was in trouble.
Drake never took his eyes off of mine, not until he came to a stop just opposite the conference table. He moved like a cat—a sleek predator.
Heath leaned forward, offering his hand, and Drake finally looked away to shake hands with him, an arrogant smile on his lips. “Good to see you again, Bowman,” he said with a clear, deep voice that only made my heart race faster.
His voice was a caress—a gentle but firm hand that skimmed down my bared spine to settle in a tight fist just at the base. Every sense came alive and my awareness of everything around me heightened. Elevated respiration. Increased perceived body heat. Speedy pulse. Classic signs of sexual arousal.
I almost fell off my heels in shock over the strength of it. Was this me? Me? Who’d wondered for at least a year if I might be a lesbian because I didn’t find any men I met attractive?
His gaze flicked back to me as Heath laid a hand on my shoulder. “This is our semi-famous blogger, Girl Geek.”
Drake’s chin tilted in a fetching way as he seemed to be studying me. I bit my lip, every nerve pulling taut. It was amazing how the body’s response to arousal and fear were so very similar. And at that point, I’d have been hard put to discern the difference.
Drake waved a hand to my seat while he took his. I sank slowly into mine, the leather sticking to the backs of my sweaty knees. I looked at the man flanking him for the very first time, suddenly realizing I hadn’t even spared a thought or a glance for him before this. He was older, balding, with a middle paunch and he appeared to be in his midfifties. He carried a briefcase, apparently a lawyer. When I looked back at Drake, I almost jumped at the intensity of his gaze. His eyes shot points right through me, like icy darts. My eyes held his but I swallowed what felt like a watermelon in my throat and tried to ignore the pulse bumping at my temple.
Heath began riffling through a stack of papers on the table before him and Drake looked away from me to follow what Heath was doing. By coincidence, I’m sure, I finally remembered to take a breath at that exact same moment.
Heath pulled out the paper he was looking for and Drake turned back to me. “So do I call you Girl Geek or do I get to know your name?”
I cleared my throat and refolded my hands in my lap. “My name is Mia.”
His eyebrows rose. “Mia?”
I fought the urge to fidget, tightening my hands on top of my bare knees. He looked down, as if watching my hands through the glass table. “Emilia. But everyone calls me Mia.”
A small smile danced on his lips when he looked up again and met my gaze. “I’m not everyone.” His eyes traveled down to my conservative neckline—but no lower, to his credit—and back. “Emilia.”
My fists clenched. Was he deliberately trying to provoke me with this arrogant attitude? Because if it was unintentional, then this was a really bad sign.
Drake cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Heath’s stack of papers. “So let’s go over the particulars of the contract. Is this just about the penetration of one organ by another or are there specifics laid out? What about touching, kissing? How many times? What about kink?”
My jaw dropped. I couldn’t help it. I scrutinized him and he seemed to detect my study even though he was looking at Heath. His sensual mouth tugged up at the corners. That’s when I realized that this was deliberate. Was it an act?
I turned to Heath, who appeared to be barely able to contain his laughter. He looked at Drake with a strange expression. “That’s a lot to cover. And this is a strange venue to do it.”
Drake shrugged and his eyes flicked back to me. “How about we just start with deal breakers, then?”
I exchanged a glance with Heath, who nodded and turned back to Drake. “I know of one that we can discuss right now. There will be no fellatio.”
Drake leaned forward. “Excuse me?”
I folded my arms tightly against my chest, already burning with resentment. “You heard him correctly. No cocksucking.” Yeah, I said it. If he could be deliberately provocative, then why couldn’t I?
His black eyes darted to mine, mildly amused, still insufferably brash. “Are you on birth control?” he asked abruptly. I blinked. He was definitely one-upping me in the obnoxious department.
Drake’s lawyer jerked a surprised look at him, frowning, clearly surprised by the behavior. Well, at least that was a sign that this sort of thing was unusual from Drake. Still didn’t excuse him, though. “All of that is delineated in the paperwork for the terms of the auction, Mr. Drake. Yes, I’ll be using birth control but there will also be condoms—”
I stopped as his handsome face split into a patronizing grin. “If I’m going to lay down a fortune for the privilege of experiencing your quivering virgin flesh, I think it goes without saying that I expect to do it without a barrier.”
I sat back, clenching my teeth so hard that my head started to ache. My gaze was held fast by the challenge in his ebony eyes. He might have been the most gorgeous creature I’d ever laid my eyes on, but he was also an asshat.
He tilted his head at me, puzzled. “Why is that a problem? If we are both cleared by a physician—”
I unclenched my jaw just long enough to reply. “Recent medical clearance is not sufficient for me. I’d require celibacy for at least the previous six months, so—”
“Then there isn’t a problem.”
I highly doubted that. I opened my mouth to call him a liar when Heath leaned forward and put his hand on the table in front of me.
Drake’s lawyer cleared his throat, throwing a bland look at me and turning to Drake. “We can work all these details out later in mediation. Mr. Drake does have a plane to catch later today.”
Drake’s eyes darted to Heath and back to me. I could tell he was trying to gauge our relationship. It wasn’t the first time a person had looked at the two of us in that unsure, questioning way. Heath was not obviously gay in any way. He wasn’t “fabulous” or flamboyant. He was very masculine in his behavior and mannerisms, so he rarely set off people’s gaydar.
My gaze turned back to Drake, drawn to him like a flame pulled into a hot, dry wind. I resented the heat on my cheeks. I was not a habitual blusher. Hardly ever, actually. But this man was bringing my Irish up, as my mother liked to say. And what was worse, the more annoyed I grew with him, the more amused he seemed to be.
Drake flicked a glance at Heath and then his lawyer. “Gentlemen, could you excuse us for a moment? You’re free to wait just outside the door.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he glanced at me. “If, of course, that is okay with the lady?”
My face flamed hotter and I folded my hands on my lap. “Fine,” I said, wondering if the thirty-something New Yorker was still interested in the deal. There was no way he could be more offensive than this jerk.
Heath looked at me for confirmation and I nodded. He patted me on the shoulder and the two men exited, leaving the two of us across the table from one another, staring.
Finally he cleared his throat and laid his hands on the table before him, lacing his fingers together and dropping his gaze. “I’m sorry if my bluntness has offended you. I assumed that a woman who has placed herself on the block like you have would be comfortable with straight talk.”
I laughed. “Oh, is that what that was? I just thought you were being an asshat.”
When he smiled, the arrogance was gone and the most delicious dimple appeared at the side of his mouth. I wanted to lick that dimple, to know every nuance of its taste. I shifted in my seat, furious with myself. Why couldn’t I control these crazy, darting thoughts?
“Mr. Drake. You are not leaving me with the best impression of yourself—”
I cut off at his dry chuckle. “Do I need to? I thought my bank account did that for me.”
Anger sizzled hot and my muscles tensed. I breathed in one long draught and then released it. “I am not a prostitute and I’ll thank you not to treat me like one.”
“You’ve sold yourself. You may not see yourself as one, but clearly…” His eyes traveled down my body again.
I shook my head. I couldn’t understand his motivation for provoking me like this. As beautiful as he was, each time that he opened his mouth I was finding it harder and harder to picture myself in bed with him. “One night in my life and a bit of broken skin does not constitute prostitution.”
His dark gaze intensified, as if with one long, determined gaze he could break through my defenses. I drew back.
“Sex for money is prostitution.”
I shrugged, determined not to let him see that he was getting under my skin. “I prefer not to put a label on it. One night of my life does not define me.”
Those generous, sexy lips turned up in a knowing smile. “A lot can happen in one night.”
I couldn’t look away no matter how much I wanted to. My heart pounded, pulse screaming through my veins in concerted throbs, but my head kept telling me to kick this asshole to the curb. There were many things I would do for almost a million dollars. Submitting to this overinflated jerk might not be one of them.
He looked at me with an analytical expression that I might wear while studying platelets under a microscope. “It takes a curious type of morality to save one’s self for so long only to sell off that asset to the highest bidder.”
My jaw tightened. It was getting harder and harder to cloak my irritation with him. “You didn’t pay to get inside my head, Mr. Drake.”
To cover my discomfort, I pushed Heath’s stack of papers across the table to him. “Here’s the fine print—everything that I could think of.”
He flicked a glance at them and then away, almost bored. “I’m not going to read through that now, obviously. And, of course, I’ll have addendums of my own. Along with a nondisclosure agreement.”
I frowned. No one had said anything about an NDA to me. “You do know that I’m a blogger, right?”
“Of course. But, aside from your Manifesto, you blog exclusively about gaming, not your sex life. The document is pretty standard, with a little extra wording about our special situation.”
He pushed a single sheet of paper across the desk to me. I looked it over. It did, indeed, seem standard, and it specifically mentioned the fact that I could not blog about our night together. I’d never planned to go into any details. I don’t write that kind of blog. But I did plan to mention that it had happened. I did have credibility to maintain, after all.
With a bored sniff, I asked for a pen, surprised that he handed me a two-dollar plastic thing instead of a platinum- and gold-plated ostentatious rich guy’s pen that shouted, “Look at me, I’m disgustingly wealthy.” I hurriedly scratched out my signature on the form.
As I pushed it over to him, I said, “I’m going to need a copy of that.”
He bent and signed the paper as well and I had a chance to admire him unnoticed for a few seconds. He really was unbelievably handsome. My heart hadn’t stopped drumming its silly ska tempo since he’d walked in the door.
“Of course,” he murmured, taking out a shiny chrome-plated smart phone from his breast pocket to photograph the document. After a moment, he typed some commands into it and looked up at me. “Heath Bowman now has a copy in his e-mail. He can forward it to you. I’ll have a physical copy mailed to you as soon as possible if you put your address on the back of the form.” I bent and complied, hurriedly scratching down my address.
I straightened, ready to give his attitude back to him, now. “It’s too bad, really, that I won’t be able to write about it. I could have made it sound so mind-blowing—I might even have thrown in a few ‘earth-shatterings’ for good measure.”
A smile played about his sexy mouth as he tucked his pen back into his jacket. “Oh, our encounters will be all that and more.”
I shook my head, hiding, yet again, the shock at his words. “It’s one night, Mr. Drake. That ‘encounters’ should have a parentheses around the s.”
His look could only be interpreted as smug. “Encounters…no parentheses necessary.”
My heartbeat slammed against my ribs. Why was his arrogance turning me on? I wanted nothing more than to slap that smug look off his handsome face.
His gaze brazenly lowered to my cleavage and breasts, lingering there. My nipples tightened in automatic response and without looking down I knew he could see. I cursed the fact that I had opted to wear a thin white blouse.
His eyes returned to mine and this time his face split into a boyish grin. “This is going to be fun.”
Self-consciously I folded my arms tightly across my chest, covering my traitorous breasts. I fumbled for something smartass to say in return but failed.
“I’m sorry to make this brief, but I’m on the way to a business meeting. We can work out all the details so that we’re both satisfied. I’ll be reachable by e-mail, however. Or you can text me.”
I almost fell over in relief at the news that he was leaving. I wasn’t sure I could take ten more minutes alone in a room with him. Which didn’t bode well for our night. Alone together. Naked. In a bed.
A bead of sweat trickled down the side of my temple. How did he manage to look so cool and crisp in his umpteen-thousand-dollar suit? And how did he manage to look so young and yet act like a thirty-something businessman at the same time?
I cleared my throat. “My cell phone isn’t working.”
His forehead creased for a moment and he opened his mouth, shook his head and then closed it as if he’d changed his mind about what he was going to say. “I have nothing but your best interests, health and safety in mind, Emilia. Both physically and legally.”
Nothing else? Again, I highly doubted that. My skepticism must have been apparent because he settled back, dark brows rising just a little. “Well, I do have my own expectations of how this should go, of course.”
I smirked, hoping this time to get some kind of reaction from him. “Of course you do.”
But his eyes only narrowed as he stood. I mirrored his actions and he waited for me to come around the table before walking toward the door alongside me. He stood so close that his jacket brushed my shoulder once and I thought my heart would go into arrest from the electric shock that zinged through me. I waited while he reached out to pull the door open. I could see no one beyond the frosted glass of the conference room door.
But he didn’t open the door. Instead he turned to me, pinned me down with that dark gaze.
“Was there something else?” I hated how breathy my voice sounded. I took a step back to put some space between us, but it didn’t seem to matter. The intensity did not let up.
Then that willful smile again. “No. I’d better not ask,” he muttered, almost to himself, and I wondered what he’d had in mind. But he still didn’t move. His hand on the chrome door handle tightened, the skin around his knuckles paling. This close I could see every feature, his glossy black hair, his dark eyes, his long straight nose and strong jaw. I swallowed and glanced to the side.
“Mr. Drake—”
“Adam,” he said, his voice quiet, firm. Then he did something I could hardly believe. He put his free hand to my chin, tilting my head up so he could look at my face. His thumb ran along my jawline and I forced myself not to jump back. I didn’t hate the touch—quite the opposite. Even as my nervousness grew, I had to remind myself that he’d be touching a lot more than that very soon. I met his gaze, managing not to flinch.
“Call me Adam,” he said, brushing his thumb over my jaw again. “It’s only fitting, given that we’ll be seeing each other naked soon.”
My mouth dropped, cheeks flushing. The reaction seemed to amuse him. I knew this must be some kind of test to gauge my response. I didn’t care. Things were finally starting to get real. I stepped back from his grip and lifted my chin. “This isn’t a done deal. I could always change my mind.” I said, hating how my voice trembled.
He nodded. “You could. And if you can’t bring yourself to hear it talked about, you probably shouldn’t go through with it.”
It wasn’t that he was talking about it. It was the way he was talking about it. But I stayed silent, strongly wishing myself out of this room and miles away.
He leaned toward me so that our faces were only inches from each other. I caught a whiff of his clean scent. My senses reeled, my heart hammered. “In the end, after all the legal talk, after all of the technical Latin terms we’ve been throwing around, this is going to be about two people. In bed—and probably other places. Fucking.”
The guy had the social skills of a caveman. Any minute I expected him to grab me by the hair and drag me out of the place with a club resting on his shoulder. Maybe he had to pay regularly to get his sex. He was a computer geek, after all. A hot computer geek, I’d admit, but still. Those guys planted their butts in front of the computer for hours, crunching code. When did they have the time to go out and pick up a girlfriend?
I decided to give him a little of his own medicine, giving him the once-over, resting my eyes on his chest, his crotch. Unfortunately, that didn’t bring about the desired effect.
He had that boyish grin again. “Yes, this is definitely going to be fun,” he said.
“You’ll be paying enough for it.”
The amusement evaporated from his eyes and they hardened so suddenly that I almost gasped to see the change in them. “We’ll be in touch, Emilia.” He stepped back and jerked open the door, waving me to pass through before him. The gentlemanly gesture came too late to impress me.
I straightened and managed not to wobble on my heels, remembering to keep my shoulders back. My mother’s voice nagging me about my poor posture rang in my head. Maybe it came from all the time I spent hunched over my keyboard playing video games.
It occurred to me that I still had no idea who this guy was. Video game designer? Multimillionaire? How does a designer get so rich? What was his story? He was really young. I would have pegged him for younger than twenty-six, yet still so arrogant, so in command and sure of himself.
Well, there was always the Internet, where no question need go unanswered. At least I had been able to cover my bill for the month. I didn’t really care about the cell phone, but I’d go without water and gas before I’d give up my Internet. It helped me put food on the table, at the very least.
I’d go home and Google him, of course. He was bound to come up, even if he was, as he claimed, a “very private person.” He couldn’t make the whole damn world sign an NDA.
When I caught Heath’s eye, he turned from his discussion with Drake’s lawyer. The tight ball between my shoulder blades had migrated to my stomach, twisting and knotting as we made it to them. Drake and Heath shook hands again and we went our separate ways. I made sure he was out of sight before I balled up my fists and spoke to Heath through clenched teeth.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“What?”
“Seriously, that’s the guy you picked? How in the hell did you think I would tolerate him?”
Heath shot me a puzzled look. “I actually thought he had a lot in common with you.”
“What, because he makes video games and I like to play them—too much, yes, I know—and review them on my blog?”
“Look at it this way, doll. If you don’t like your time together, you can give every product he’s made a shitty review.”
“Hilarious. Did you tell number two to go away yet or is he still an option?”
Heath’s mouth thinned. “Simmer down, now. Give it a day or two, okay? He said he’d e-mail you. Maybe he’ll be more polite.”
“He’s not paying to send me e-mails. I’m going to have to be alone with him all night…”
Heath shook his head and sent me a look that said, “I told you so.” I sighed and looked away.
“That’s the nature of the beast, Mia. It’s what you signed up for when you decided to go through with all this—‘Virgin Manifesto’ ideals or no. You claimed you were taking back the power that had been robbed from women for centuries. Find a way to take back the power from him. Don’t let him go all alpha wolf on you and start peeing on every tree. You’re stronger than that.”
“What about the other guy? Is he an alpha wolf, too?”
“Sweetie, they’re millionaires. They’re all alpha wolves. For what it’s worth, his behavior with you was very different from what I saw with him when we spoke both times. Maybe it’s just a façade he uses around women. It would explain why he’s participating in this—what did you call it again?—‘new paradigm’ in the first place.”
The knot in my stomach twisted again. “It’s a bad sign if he can’t behave himself around a woman. How do I know I’ll be safe? What if he’s into some sadomasochist shit?”
“Yeah, that’s all in the paperwork. No fetish. No bondage. Nothing unusual. You’re a virgin for chrissakes, it’s not like you would be into any of that. He knows. He was the one who wanted it put into the language of the agreement, kept saying it was important to protect you.”
I remembered what he said when we were alone. That it was his sole interest to ensure my safety, physically and legally. Was this some sort of sting? Was he an undercover cop in reality? Could Heath have been able to find that out?
We had arranged for this entire transaction to take place overseas, in countries where sex in exchange for money was legal. The web server had been stationed in Brazil, the auction run by proxy by Heath’s contact there. The actual act would take place in a legally friendly country.
Money would not actually change hands. Overseas bank accounts would effect the transfer. Heath’d had a gay banker friend set up an account in the Cayman Islands for me. It made me feel so clandestine and mysterious. Drake had one too (probably long before this transaction). And the money would soon be resting in a holding account before the transfer was made.
The only thing that was marginally illegal was our meeting on US soil to iron out the details of the deal. However, my pride at the neatness of this deal was beginning to fade in the face of Drake and his alpha wolf asshat personality. As Heath and I got into the car to return home, I shot him a veiled look but was quiet the remainder of the way.
I had a decision to mull over. I had to learn more about who Adam Drake really was. But further than that, the reality of my ideals had just slammed me in the face and I had to see if I had the courage to continue with this plan. The way my nerves were tied up in knots, I doubted if I could.
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