His Terms Page 6
He stared at her and then smoothed his hands over his jacket. “Can you please get yourself straightened out and see my first client in?” He was back to being the cold man that he was known for, and although he wanted to heat her up, he also liked seeing the frustration cover her face.
It was the look she wore right now.
She pushed away from the wall, adjusted her dress so it wasn’t hiked up her legs, and narrowed her eyes at him. “You are a sadistic bastard, Rian Hartford.” There was a bite in her voice, but she also had the arousal that still laced it. She breathed out, moved over to her bag she had brought in to the office, and pulled out the folded contract. Sorcha glance down at the papers, and then looked back up at him. She seemed hesitant, but then he saw the acceptance move over her face. “I’m ready to sign it, Rian.”
He stared right in her eyes, felt satisfaction fill him, but didn’t let it show. If she only knew how much he was looking forward to being with her, she would probably be pretty fucking scared, especially with the images of what he wanted to do to her filling his head. He leaned against his desk, folded his arms over his chest, and watched her as she set the papers on the table, grabbed a pen, and signed her life away to him for a full seven days.
11
Three weeks later
The last few weeks consisted of Sorcha rearranging Rian’s schedule so that he’d have a full week free … to spend with her. He’d still have to attend functions outside of the office, but for the next week she would be at his penthouse in the city. She had told Cora her plans, and although her friend had been pushing her slightly toward going with Rian to help with her financial troubles, and to ease her arousal, there was still that hesitant look on her friend’s face. Cora wanted what was best for her, but she was also afraid. Sorcha knew the feeling.
But now she was to be Rian’s for one week, and up until this moment she had just been going through the motions. It was only seven days, nothing really in the grand scheme of things, but still, what would she be required to do? She had to be a fool to sign that damn contract, to not have her own attorney look it over and give her legal advice.
Oh who are you kidding? You don’t have an attorney, nor could you afford one.
But the contract had been cut and dry, with nothing in fine print. The problem was it hadn’t been specific either, just that no harm would come to her. A week was nothing, nothing at all, or at least that was what she kept telling herself. Yes, she wanted to be with him, but she had never thought past him fucking her against the wall in the office.
It had been a fantasy, and not something that she ever thought she’d follow through with. He pissed her off daily, was arrogant, occasionally egotistical, and a cocky bastard on more than one occasion. She now sat in the limousine that Rian had sent for her, and to say she was nervous was an understatement.
The bag she had in her lap held everything she’d need for her stay with him, although she didn’t have any designer dresses. What she did have would have to do if he wanted her to go to a party for business with him. The hard grip she had on the handle dug into the skin of her palm, causing the already-sweaty flesh to chafe. For the millionth time she asked herself if she was actually going through with this.
Obviously it was a rhetorical question because she was already in the car, but she was so damn nervous, scared, and also a little excited. Rian lived in a penthouse looking over Central Park, and living in such wealth was probably going to take some getting used to. There was also this very strong part of her that knew what she was agreeing to was wrong on every moral level.
But despite the money being offered, the fact that he had already paid her in full, and she had been able to pay off the mountain of bills she owed, Sorcha knew that she had sold every part of her to Rian.
She had to spend one full week doing God knew what with a man like Rian. The rain right outside of the car was falling heavily, angrily almost, and it made this whole situation seem ominous. But she supposed that was fitting. His apartment was about half an hour from the office, but nearly an hour from her rinky-dink little place, and that was without heavy traffic or bad weather.
Sorcha closed her eyes and pictured Rian. Just looking at him she knew his desires ran on the darker side, or at least she had to assume a prick like him would like rough and hard sex. He also seemed kind of sadistic in nature, given the fact that the last time he had touched her in any form was when he almost had her coming for him. She could only imagine how he was in bed: probably all raw and demanding need that matched his tough, stone-cold exterior. He was controlling, that was for damn sure, and that frightened and aroused her.
Would he try to control her in bed? He said she wouldn’t be harmed, but that pain might be involved. What did he mean by that? Would he tie her up, spank her until she begged him to stop? Or maybe Sorcha would enjoy it? She certainly was getting aroused just thinking about it, even if a part of her grew disgusted that she could even contemplate liking such things.
Sorcha certainly wasn’t a virgin, and had been with a few men, but they had been safe, ones that liked bland, vanilla sex. They were nothing like Rian. A man like Rian Hartford seemed like he had an animal lurking inside, a dangerous and wild one, and all it would take was a small amount of provocation to unleash it on her and everyone else.
“We are approaching Mr. Hartford’s residence, Miss Case.”
She straightened when the deep male voice of the driver came through the intercom. The privacy screen was up between the back and front of the car, and she hadn’t realized until right now that that small piece of glass separated her from an entirely different world. It seemed weird to think of it like that, but being in the back of this limo seemed to make her feel like she was living another woman’s life. It was definitely an unnerving situation.
It was only about five more minutes before the driver pulled the vehicle into the underground parking garage, and then found a spot. For a second after he cut the engine all she did was sit there and listen to the sound of her heart starting to beat a fast, hard rhythm. But then one of the back doors was opened and the driver was standing on the other side holding his hand out to her. He wore black livery, kept this stiff posture, and was so professional he hadn’t even made eye contact with her yet. She had refused politely to allow him to take her bag when he first picked her up, and so she tightened her fingers on the strap and took his hand with her other one. The garage was still and quiet, with only the faint overhead and orangey lighting to break up the shadows.
“Mr. Hartford has instructed me to show you to the elevator that will take you to his penthouse loft,” the driver said once she was standing beside him. He turned and started walking toward the lone elevator straight ahead, and she followed behind. The light click-clack of her heels on the pavement was loud and echoed off the concrete walls.
The vehicles in the garage ranged from BMWs to Mercedes, Range Rovers, and Porsches. There were others mixed in, ones that looked sporty and expensive, and probably cost more than she’d ever make in a lifetime.
Sorcha watched as the driver pressed the intercom by the gleaming silver elevator, and then took a step back. This whole set-up was insane, and like nothing she had ever seen before, but then again she had never seen so much money openly flaunted, not until she had come to work for Rian. The intercom clicked on, but there was no voice on the other end.
“Miss Case is here, sir,” the driver said, to Rian she assumed. And then after what felt like long, dragging minutes of silence, Rian finally spoke.
“Send her up.” As if he had conjured the elevator right then and there, the door opened and she was staring at her reflection. The interior of the elevator was just as posh as what she would have assumed. Wood trim, stainless steel accents, and glass on all three walls.
“Miss Case,” the driver said and held his arm out, gesturing for her to enter.
She was scared, but she didn’t know exactly of what. But Sorcha took those few steps, entered the small glass,
metal, and wood enclosure, and then faced the driver. He was already walking away from her as the doors slowly shut, and then she was looking at herself in the polished metal. Her heart beat fast and wild, nearly ripping right out of her chest from the force of it.
Reaching out and holding onto the bar to steady herself as the elevator ascended, she closed her eyes, said a prayer that she was doing the right thing, and then slowly opened them again when she felt the elevator come to a stop. The door opened slowly, and there standing on the other side was Rian. He wore a plain black t-shirt, a pair of distressed looking jeans, and no shoes or socks. He looked so strange, even more so than when she had seen him dressed-down at the office that Saturday that her entire world changed.
His black hair was in a disarray of short strands around his head, and he showed no emotion on his face. Right then he looked very much the powerful and indifferent businessman she had come to loathe for the last six months, even when he wore jeans and a tee.
“Sorcha.” He said her name smoothly and evenly, and it reminded her of melted chocolate as it rolled off of his tongue and caressed her. He held a champagne flute with bubbly yellow liquid in it. She also made out a strawberry at the bottom of the glass. Taking that first step into his home took more strength than she thought possible. The door closed behind her. Sealing her in and having her at the mercy of this very dangerous, yet alluring man.
12
He watched her step off that elevator, her expression one that was mixed with fear of the unknown, but excitement for the prospect and possibilities. Rian would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see her afraid, because she would have been a blind fool if she hadn’t been.
“Here, let me take that,” he said to her once she was within arm’s reach. He reached for her bag without waiting for a response, and gave her the glass of champagne. “I figured you’d need something to help you relax.”
“And alcohol was your first choice,” she stated while staring right at him.
“No, not my first, but I thought you’d appreciate the drink instead of what I’d like to do to help us both relax instead.” He let those words hang in the air between them, and showed that he hadn’t been trying to amuse her with his answer. What he wanted to do was throw her on the bed and fuck her until they both couldn’t move, but he wasn’t some kind of beast that couldn’t control his basic urges. At least not the majority of the time.
She didn’t respond, but instead took a long drink from her glass. She was nervous, and rightfully so, but she’d warm up to all of this soon enough. How far would Sorcha let him go? Even though she had signed the contract, she would most likely still be hesitant. How far would he let himself go with her?
“I’ve had a meal prepared for us, so come with me and I’ll show you where to keep your things, and then we can eat.” Again, he didn’t wait for her to respond, because she really didn’t have a choice. She’d signed the contract, willingly agreed to be his for this week, and he wasn’t going to sugarcoat anything that happened from this point on. He could be a gentle, understanding man, but deep down that really wasn’t who he was. He felt her near, knew she was following behind him, and led them into the master suite. Rian took a step to the side, and allowed her entrance into the room she would be sleeping in for the next seven days.
“This is your room.” She didn’t phrase it like question, but glanced at him when she finished.
He didn’t speak, but nodded. Of course it was his room. She didn’t think she’d be staying in another room for this week, did she? He planned on having her every night, in every way imaginable, including tonight.
She was slow in moving, but then again she seemed stunned by her surroundings. This amused Rian, and not in the douche-bag way she would have probably thought. He leaned back against the wall, set her bag on the ground beside him, and just watched her.
First she moved over to the whirlpool hot tub that was built into the floor. He could see her reflection in the mirror as she looked at the candles spread out around the lip of the bathtub. Then she moved over to the balcony. A glance over her shoulder, as if she were asking permission to open the doors, had him lifting the corner of his mouth in a smile and nodding. He didn’t want her thinking she needed to ask permission to do anything, but he did find it kind of endearing. Sorcha wasn’t a prisoner in his home.
She stepped out onto the balcony. And he contemplated leaving her alone and letting her enjoy the sights. He knew everything about her, even before he decided to make up the contract and bring it to her attention. Having her work so closely with him, knowing all of his personal details, made him do an extensive background check on her. It might not have been legal, not with the men he had used, but he had gotten the information he needed. How would she feel if she knew he knew about her credit history, her family life, that she had no one else anymore, and that she had slept with three men? Would she slap him, spit in his face, or quit once the week was over with?
He moved toward her, stepped out onto the balcony, and leaned his forearms on the railing. They were twenty stories up, not exactly a skyscraper, but this building was exclusive and only held twenty apartments. Rian looked over at her, saw that she had her eyes closed, and wondered what she was thinking about. He had never cared about what a woman thought, not when his ultimate goal was to have her in his bed. But this situation was different. Sorcha’s case was different.
Her hair was down, and the dark strands moved along her shoulders as the wind picked up. The thought of reaching out and touching the strands that were brushing along her cheek rode him hard, and he was stunned at the intensity with which he actually wanted to do just that. He lifted his hand, brushed the strands away from her cheek, and watched as she straightened and looked at him, as if surprised. He pulled his hand away, knowing he could do what he wanted to her, but also knowing she needed some time to get adjusted with everything.
She turned her head back toward the sight in front of them, and closed her eyes. For several seconds neither spoke, but he continued to stare at her.
“If you close your eyes it feels like you are on top of the world.” She slowly opened her eyes, and this almost relaxed expression crossed her face.
It had him picturing her looking drowsy like that right after he had been deep inside of her, making her come for him.
“Although you’re probably used to the sight.” She was staring at Central Park. “The window in my apartment has a brick wall for a view.” She smiled, but it looked rather depressing. “I would love to have this view, to just wake up and walk out here whenever I wanted to.” She glanced down, and he noticed she tightened her hold on the banister. “On second thought, maybe not this high up.” She sounded like she was talking to herself, and then she took several steps back and ran her hands up and down her thighs.
“Come on, let’s go eat.” Rian was itchy just standing here staring at her. He wanted to go slow, because scaring her on the first night she was his certainly wasn’t what he wanted, but then again he also didn’t want to wait. He had been known to have patience that rivaled all others’, but right now he didn’t have any. Rian wanted to take her up against the wall, not caring that they were so high up, and that if someone looked out their window from one of the other buildings they would know what he was doing to Sorcha. He didn’t want patience with her, didn’t want to have to wait for anything.
She was his for the next week, and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. She’d want it, there was no doubt about that. He could see it in her eyes when she looked at him.
She glanced over at him, and the long black fall of her hair had this seductive quality to it. With the lights of New York and Central Park as a backdrop, she was stunning, and for the first time in his life he wanted to know what it was like to be slow and easy with a woman, to let her see that if he tried hard enough he wasn’t the bastard that she thought he was. Well, not all the time at least.
He moved back toward her, grabbed the back of her hair, tilt
ed her head back, and claimed her mouth. For long seconds all he did was kiss her, long, drugging moments of rubbing his tongue along hers. Sorcha held onto him, but she was still stiff and unsure. He could taste it on her, smell it in the air around her, and feel it in the way she held herself.
Rian pulled back, looked down at her face, and used his other hand to cup her cheek. He then tilted her head back further with his fingers on her chin, looked at her lips, and groaned. “I want you right now, Sorcha.” She parted her lips but said nothing, just breathed out heavily like she felt the same way. “But I’ll practice a little bit of restraint right now, at least until after we eat.” He grinned, but he wasn’t trying to be teasing.
He meant it, because after she was fed all bets were off on him trying to be a gentleman.
13
Sorcha’s hands were shaking as she followed Rian out of his bedroom and into the dining room. His apartment was like nothing she had ever seen before. Ornate accents adorned his home, expensive, tastefully decorated, and making her feel like she lived in a hovel. Hell, his room had a Jacuzzi built into the floor, and the view was incredible. She rubbed her hands on her jeans for the hundredth time it felt, and stared at the set-up. Stainless steel, glass, dark marble, all of it was covering every inch of his apartment. This was certainly a home for one of wealth, and she’d be experiencing it for the next week.
The table seated six, and when he led her to the spot at the other end from where he was sitting she felt suddenly isolated. There was a glass of wine already poured and sitting at her place setting, and although she had finished her champagne in his room, and in fact left the glass on the balcony, she needed more liquid courage. Whatever was going to happen tonight certainly would put her nerves and mind to the test.