I took his money because he forced me to.

But I was grateful that he made me.

I was able to get myself a real dinner and a room at a decent hotel. I went to bed that night with a satisfied stomach and lay on a bed that hadn’t been devoured by moths. The crazy lady in the bunk next to me at the hostel couldn’t keep me up all night when I slept alone.

It was really nice.

I’d been living my life like this for two weeks, and I’d finally reached my boiling point. It was harder in New York City because people weren’t as generous or compassionate there. If you asked for food, they pretended not to hear you and just kept walking.

If it weren’t for Conway, I wasn’t sure what I would have done.

Slept on the street again.

He was the one who insulted me first, so I didn’t feel bad for calling him an asshole. But when he gave me food and money…I wondered if I misjudged him. Maybe he wasn’t the cold and arrogant man he constantly projected. Maybe he had a soul underneath all that hardness.

Or maybe he just cared about protecting his brand.

He obviously wanted me in his lineup. He wouldn’t take the time to help me unless it benefited him in some way. So perhaps that was all he really cared about. If I wound up dead or got jumped, he wouldn’t be able to use me anymore.

Whatever the case, I was grateful.

It was nice to feel safe in a hotel room…even if it was just for a little while.

When I walked into his building, the other models there immediately turned up their noses when they saw me. Gossip had spread fast, and they all knew I was the one woman who showed up to the audition fully clothed. They also knew Conway Barsetti hadn’t even bothered with the other nine models because he only seemed to be interested in me.

So, of course, they all hated me.

I took the stairs to the top level and knocked on his office door.

“Come in.” His deep voice sounded exactly the same as it did yesterday, powerful and masculine. He could command an entire army based on his voice alone. He also had the look of a commander as well…a man with the whole package.

I stepped inside.

Conway was too involved in work to look up at me, but he must have known it was me because he wouldn’t let a random person share his space with him. He stood at the table, his broad shoulders filling out his suit perfectly. His back was ramrod straight, and his head was dipped slightly forward as I watched his hand scribble across the notebook.

Like any other time I was around him, I felt the tension settle on my shoulders. It was like being locked in a cage with a snake. There was a violent animal in the same space…and it was bound to strike. It just wasn’t clear when.

Today, I didn’t bring my bag because I left it at the hotel. I’d had room service brought right to me, something I hadn’t done since my parents took me on vacation fifteen years ago. Now I examined his studio more closely, seeing the pictures on the walls. They were all models dressed in his lingerie, sexy women who did his clothes justice. Some of them were too scandalous for publication, so it made me wonder if they were pictures just for him…as gifts. A mannequin sat next to the table, and a black bra was fastened on the figure. It was clearly in the process of being constructed because it didn’t look complete.

His large table was black, as were his walls. The hardwood floor underneath my feet was a deep cherry wood. The bed in the corner seemed out of place, and it made me wonder if his relationship with his models wasn’t always professional.

Of course, it wasn’t.

I slowly trailed around the room, looking at the pile of clothing pins on the table along with the random pieces of fabric thrown everywhere. It was cluttered but organized at the same time. I patiently waited for him to address me.

He kept working, sipping his coffee as he stared down at his drawing.

“You know I’m here, right?”

He kept sketching. “And I’ll pretend that you aren’t until I’m finished.”

As if yesterday hadn’t happened at all, we were right back to where we’d been before. “I would have kept sleeping if I’d known you’d be busy.”

“Your time is my time. Get used to it.”

I rolled my eyes then walked up to the table where he was standing. I looked around his arm and watched his fingers sketch a corset and thong. It was a rough drawing, but he added so many details with little room. He made notes along the side, writing down the fabrics and gems. He worked quickly, as if this idea came into his skull five minutes before I walked through the door.

When I stood this close to him, I could smell the scent of his cologne. It smelled like pine wood and body soap. Maybe it wasn’t cologne at all, but just his natural aroma. I imagined the scent clung to him just after he stepped out of the shower. When I pictured him in the shower, all man, muscle, and skin, I shook the thought away.

He finally set down his pencil. “Next time, you will wait until I’m finished before you speak.”

“Why?”

He shut the folder with an audible thump. “Because I don’t have to give a reason. Just do it.” He turned his body toward me, ready to lean into my face and say something else rude. But his mouth shut, and his eyes narrowed on my face. He took in my features slowly, his anger softening and a different expression coming over his face. Instantly, the rage he’d expressed toward me disappeared altogether. “Perfect.” He was just inches from my body, and the second he stepped away, he took all the warmth with him.

Since I had a hotel room, I was able to shower, use a blow dryer, and look in a mirror to do my makeup. He obviously noticed the change and seemed slightly struck by it.

“Clothes off.”

Now the moment was officially over. “Should I just drop everything the second I walk in the door?” I asked sarcastically.

“Yes.” He grabbed a different notebook and a measuring tape. “Why don’t I hear clothes hitting the floor?”

Now that I’d taken his money, I couldn’t disobey. I was committed to this out of obligation. I would have to get used to removing my clothes in front of this man I hardly knew. If would be one thing if he was gay…but he definitely wasn’t.

I peeled off my jeans and t-shirt and set them on the stool next to the full-length mirror. I stood in my white bra and panties, thankful I’d shaved everything in the shower that morning. When I looked at my appearance, I saw a thin woman with an hourglass figure and a little too much junk in the trunk. I never had struggled with self-esteem because I knew I was attractive. But not once in my lifetime did I ever think I’d have the potential to attract the biggest designer in the world. Not once did I think I had the right look for something that thousands of women would die for.

I still didn’t think that.

I felt his stare directly between my shoulder blades. I didn’t need to see his reflection in the mirror to know exactly where he was. His presence was heavy enough, and his stare was even more powerful.

“Turn around.”

I swallowed my pride and did as he asked.

He sat down in a black armchair and rested his ankle on the opposite knee. One elbow was propped on the armrest with the measuring tape held in his fingertips. He gently rolled his thumb against the circular surface, his eyes grazing over my body like he’d never seen a woman in a thong.

His gaze started at my neck and then slid down my body. He paid attention to my tummy the most, homing in on it before he looked at my thighs. “Do you lift weights? Run?”

“Neither.”

His fingers stopped playing with the measuring tape, and his eyes narrowed on my face. “Then what do you do?”

“Nothing.”

That obviously wasn’t the right answer. “A woman doesn’t have an ass like that from doing nothing.” His fingers started to move on the tape measure again.

“I’m on my feet twelve hours a day with school and bartending.”

“You were a bartender?”

Why would that interest a man like him? “Yes.”

“What’s your favorite drink?”

“Scotch.”

His eyes narrowed in intensity, as if that answer meant something to him. “Why?”

“It’s simple and effective.”

“That’s my father’s favorite drink. My mother hates it.”

“It requires a certain palate.” I was talking about drink choices in my underwear the way I would with a lover. It felt so comfortable that it actually made me uncomfortable.

His eyes finally left mine and returned to examining me. “You’re beautiful from head to toe.” He started his perusal again at my neck then slowly moved to my feet. “Perfect skin, perfect curves, perfect everything…I wouldn’t change a thing.”

I didn’t know if I should say thank you for being objectified so casually, so I didn’t. “You must say that to all your models.”

“Actually, I don’t.” His eyes shifted back to mine. “Every woman is unique. Some have the perfect eye color to complement their skin. Some have the perfect legs that look amazing in a teddy and garters. Some have the perfect shoulders for a sweetheart top. They all have something amazing other than being thin…but none of them have everything.” His eyes burrowed into my skin with his heated look, seeing me skin-deep. His visceral look wasn’t lustful in nature, rather almost respectful. I certainly felt like a lamb when I was around this lion, but I also felt like a goddess at the same time. He insulted me when I didn’t reach his expectations, but when I did, he did nothing but flatter me. “But you do.” He left the chair and approached me, pulling the end of the tape measure. “I’m going to take some measurements now. That’s as close to me asking for permission as you’re going to get.”

He wrapped the tape measure around my rib cage first. Then he moved to my hips, adjusting the tape as I became wider. He must have memorized the numbers because he never wrote them down.

He took measurements that I never expected, from my shoulder to my chest, and from one shoulder to the opposite breast. He even wrapped the soft tape around my neck. It took him nearly twenty minutes to map out my entire body, measuring the size of my calves as well as my thighs. When he measured my legs, he measured from the knee to my waist then took a separate measurement of my ankle to my knee.

I didn’t have a clue how he remembered all of that.

He walked to the table and scribbled his notes, the tape measure sitting beside him. His masculine hand made the pencil look even smaller because of the size difference. I could hear the scratch of the pencil tip against the paper, probably because he was pressing so hard into the parchment.

I didn’t put my clothes back on because I assumed he would tell me to take them off again.

When he was finished, he set the pencil down and then took another drink of his coffee.

I was grateful he was facing the other way. His callused fingertips had brushed against my skin in the most perfect way. It made me afraid but also excited. I liked the way he was so meticulous with his work, making sure every measurement was as exact as possible. He wore a particular expression, a hard look from his concentration. His jaw was harder, and his green eyes took on a deeper shade. His eyebrows furrowed as he studied all the movements he made with his fingertips. The focused expression made his handsome face even more captivating. It made me wonder how his face looked when he was buried between the legs of a beautiful woman. Was his expression the same? Or was it even sexier?

I felt my skin flush at the thought.

Conway turned back to me. “I’ve seen some of these numbers before…but here and there. I haven’t seen every single one attached to one woman. That’s pretty incredible.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks and slowly walked back toward me, approaching me with a distinct gentleness that contradicted the way he’d aggressively touched me and measured me.

“Thank you…” It felt out of place to say that, but it felt even more awkward to say nothing at all. I held his expression as he stood in front of me, seeing the green eyes along with the stubble on his face. My nipples hardened inside my bra and pushed against the fabric. Thankfully, the bra was padded so my hardness wasn’t visible.

His hand slid into his pocket, his thumb hooked on the outside. When he created these tense moments, he didn’t seem to be bothered by the stern silence the way everyone else was. He was naturally intimidating, a skill that affected everyone else but him. Maybe he was aware of it. Maybe he wasn’t.

I refused to allow myself to be cowed, to allow this man to make me stand on pins and needles. But when he wore such a handsome expression mixed with distinct darkness, it was hard not to.

Was I afraid of him? Or was I attracted to him?

Could it be both?

“Why are you uncomfortable?”

Like I was words on a page, he read me like an open book. I didn’t like being transparent, but maybe I wasn’t. Maybe he just had a powerful skill of reading human emotion. “I’m pretty much naked right now…”

“And what’s wrong with that?” He held himself with perfect posture at all times. Even when he stood at the table and stared down at his notebook, his shoulders were still squared. He practiced what he preached, never slouching.

Everything was wrong with it. “It’s unnatural…I hardly know you.”

“Unnatural?” he whispered. “A woman’s naked body is the most natural thing in the world. It’s beautiful, erotic, sensual…breathtaking.” His eyes glided down my body again. “You should never feel ashamed of that beautiful skin. No woman ever should be. You have more power than you realize. I make beautiful things, but I can only be inspired by something just as beautiful. You have all the power in every situation, Ten. Men would gladly lay down their lives just for a look at your perfection. When you walk across that stage, you should own it. You should burn with confidence and power. I will make you look like the goddess that you are—but you have to be the goddess. Don’t ever feel ashamed or insecure when you stand there like that in front of me. I think you’re stunning. You hardly know me now, but that will change very soon. Soon, you will trust me more than anyone else on this earth.”

His words immediately changed my perception, immediately made me feel more at ease standing like that in front of him. I suddenly felt invigorated, no longer on display. A new burst of confidence shot through me.

“My job isn’t just to make a woman look beautiful—but feel beautiful.” He stepped closer to me, officially in my personal space. It was the closest he ever had come to me, his mouth lingering just inches from mine. “I like to fuck women, so I know exactly how I want them to look when I’m fucking them. I know what men want. I know what fantasies they have. So I design lingerie that fits those desires. Any woman who wears my clothes will feel gorgeous—because she’ll know it’s what a man wants.” He tilted his head slightly, looking down at my body.

I felt the bumps form on my arms, felt my breath come out shaky. It was like standing in front of an inferno where the flames licked my skin. A combination of his power, authority, and confidence wrapped around me. He paralyzed me.

He brushed the backs of his fingertips against my shoulder and slowly dragged them down my arm. He moved slowly, stopping at the crease in my elbow. “You inspire me…because I know exactly how I would fuck you.”