Chapter Two

Marco ran his fingers down his face. The post-climatic haze cleared out of his head as he withdrew from Lily then removed the condom and threw it in the tall, lined trash can. She pulled down her apron and smoothed her hands over it, and he almost wished he could take her again.

In less than two minutes she’d hate him. When he told her he was here to buy her salon, she’d be furious. And even then… Even with that possibility, his body still throbbed and tingled. His mind might catch up with reality, but the most honest part of his hadn’t. Screwing her hadn’t sated his hunger; it only worked as an appetizer for the exquisite banquet he planned to feast on. That he would feast on.

“What?” she asked, sensing his hesitation. She walked to the door and returned to the shop’s interior. “Why did you come here? You don’t need a haircut, do you?” she said, tossing him a glance over her shoulder.

He followed her out of the bathroom. After what they’d shared, she deserved nothing but the truth. “No.” He stalked toward her as she turned around and faced him. “I’ll start with my name. I’m Marco Giordano.”

She tilted her head to the side. “I’m Lily Jenkins. Should I know who you are?”

“Frank Stewart has been in touch with you,” he said, grateful his trusted employee had kept their identity undercover for the time being. He and Nico didn’t like revealing themselves until it was strictly necessary. People could use his family’s wealth as leverage for asking for more money, just because they had it. Using a third party made more sense.

In slow motion, Lily stepped back, the contours of her face hardening. The soft, warm, willing woman he’d just screwed disappeared. Disappointment flickered in her eyes. Marco’s spine locked into place, tension brewing in his gut. “You want me out of the shop?” she asked.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but yeah… Everyone else in the strip mall has agreed to sell their suite.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Well, I haven’t.”

“I understand, but you’re behind on paying your bills. Even if we didn’t insist on doing this, you’d have maybe, what? One, two months? Three, tops, until you file for bankruptcy.”

She flattened her lips with a slow shake of her head. “I can’t believe this. You walk in here, hit me with your good looks and devil dick, and expect me to hand you the key to my suite? A place that was passed on to me from my parents?”

“Lily, when I came in here, I didn’t have an evil plan to sleep with you,” he said, for the sake of being proper, even though they technicality hadn’t slept. “I wanted to talk to you about your situation and help you see you’re better off selling your suite to us. We’re offering you well over the market value, and I’m willing to increase the offer.”

“No. I don’t need your charity. You used me,” she said, then erased the distance between them and slapped her palm on his cheek.

Merda. His skin stung a little, but the fact she slapped him awakened a reaction other than pain. His body roared, recognizing her touch even if in a much different way than minutes earlier. Renewed desire charged through him. Lily was passionate, vibrant, downright sexy—and she belonged in his bed.

“I didn’t come in here with the intention of seducing you. I apologize for not making it clear who I was, but who cares? Once we laid eyes on each other, nothing else mattered,” he said, holding her gaze. “If I have a devil dick, you have a heavenly pussy.”

An adorable wave of red spread across her cheeks and neck, a telling fact that she at least agreed with him on their strong pull. “Well, it happened. We’ll have to get over it and move forward.”

“I don’t want to get over it. I want to relive it. To do it again and again.”

She shrugged. “Tough luck.”

Maybe Elizabeth was right. His life would be easier if he didn’t need a contract for everything. The teenage boy in him, the one who took his father to a rehab clinic, disagreed. Contracts, for everything, made his life less complicated. He knew what to expect and what to give—without that structure, he’d be vulnerable to a give-and-take dynamic, and he’d lose. “I have a proposition for you. You have a debt that’s going to suck you dry. Let me take care of it. I’ll pay all your debts and find you another place nearby.”

She stood, hands perched at her waist. “It won’t be my mother’s. I used to come to this same place as a little girl. I once broke my arm running on that sidewalk,” she said, pointing to the window. “I won’t ever have the connection I have to this place somewhere else.”

He curled his fingers into a ball then uncurled them quickly. The sad look on her face made him want to rush to comfort her, but he had to be strong. Sentimentalism had no place in the business world. Another lesson his father had taught him early in life. “No, but it’ll be a more modern setup, in a better neighborhood, in a place that’ll give you more chances to succeed.”

She unfolded her arms and let them fall to her sides. “Why can’t I succeed right here?”

He perched his hands at his waist. A pang of frustration stabbed at him, but he breathed in and out quickly and continued. “Because I need the space to make a garage for the restaurants, shops, and the entertainment area we’re creating. This exact location is perfect. Think about all the jobs we’ll offer to those who need to work.”

“All the jobs? Like you care about the common man? You must be joking. Besides, even if I sell it to you, I won’t be able to afford a place like one of those you mentioned.”

“Yes, you will. I’ll…give you money,” he said, the words escaping his mouth without his permission. Shit. Moments with her and he was already making bad business decisions.

She threw him a skeptical look. “Why would you do that?”

Wheels began to turn rapidly in his brain. If he helped her financially, what could he possibly ask for? He cleared his throat. “Because I want something in return.”

“Ah. Of course. There’s no such thing as a free lunch. What can I possibly offer you?” she asked, unruffled.

What indeed? His lip curled into a smile. She’d be shocked in a second or two, but he needed to finish his proposal. Contracts dictated his life, so why not make a dirty one? “I want your body in my bed. One month. Then I’ll move you to a place where clients will appreciate your talent.” And I’ll never bother you again. Certainly, four weeks would be enough to water down the fire between them.

She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not a hooker.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a brilliant woman, who’s also very proud. You’re a woman who excites me in a way I haven’t been in a long time. I don’t mean to offend you. Let’s say we’re two regular people who met through mutual friends or at a bar. We date for one month, figure out we’re not a match outside the bedroom. It could happen. What would we get in the end? False hopes and heartbreak at best. What I’m doing is ensuring you’ll get the backup you deserve in this shitty situation, while I get what I need,” he said, remembering the abandonment with which she’d come in his arms. His pulse raced with the image alone. He couldn’t wait to have her come again, several times. He couldn’t wait to savor her over and over.

“You talk like this is a business deal.”

He reached into his inside pocket and grabbed a business card. The dynamics of the boardroom had taught him to keep his poker face. If she knew how much he wanted her to say yes, she’d have the upper hand. “It is. I’ll draw up a contract. Two, in fact. One is a confidentiality agreement, and the other one states you’ll be mine sexually—only mine—and I’ll give you what you want at the end of the month.”

“What you’re offering isn’t what I want.”

He grabbed a pen and added his personal cell phone number to the back of the card. When he stepped forward to give it to her, she jerked away, as if the minimal contact with him would start a chain of events she’d rather crush. “It’s the best offer you can get. I’ll pay all your debts, pay well above market value for your space, and set you up in a coveted location.”

She shot him a mocking smile. “An Italian knight in white and shining armor saving me from harm all because of my heavenly pussy. The stuff Shakespearean poems are made of.”

He suppressed a chuckle, intent on showing how serious he was about his proposal, and put his business card on the shelf. “I’m giving you twenty-four hours to consider my offer. After that, it’s off the table.”

…

“Hi, Mama.” Lily walked into the nursing home’s shared living area. Several folks talked either to each other, or to the TV displaying a daytime talk show. She had wanted to bring her mother flowers, but for the past few weeks she’d been saving however she could.

“Hi, sweetie,” her mother said, and when she stood from the recliner chair, she did so more slowly than usual, her hand resting at her hip.

“Are you okay?” Lily asked. Her mother sure looked younger than her seventy-one years, as Estelle Jenkins had always taken good care of herself. After her husband’s death a year and a half ago, she’d decided to go to a retirement community where she’d still be pretty independent but would have help if needed, especially after a hip replacement surgery and other age-related health concerns.

Estelle waved her off. “I’m fine, honey. I attended a beginner’s ballroom dancing class yesterday and am paying the price now.”

“Mom… Be careful.”

Estelle’s blue eyes sparkled. “I’ve been careful my whole life, dear. Wife of a pastor. Can’t a girl have some fun?” She winked with her trademark wit, and Lily’s heart squeezed in her chest.

She gave her mom a hug that lasted longer than intended, finding comfort in the warmth of her embrace. When she disengaged, Estelle looked at her with concern. “What is it, munchkin?”

Well, munchkin is broke and about to sell her soul to the devil. Lily ran her fingers into her hair, messing up her ponytail. If Marco had meant it, she had just over two hours to make the decision that could change her life and corrupt every value her father had instilled in her. Maybe she deserved it—if she hadn’t screwed Marco, she wouldn’t know what it was like. The way he touched her and made her feel would be enough reason for her to pay him for a screw—if she could afford it.

“Is it a man? Did my Lily finally meet someone special?” Her mother smiled, and they walked through the Japanese-themed gardens.

“I’m not sure special is the word. I’m not ready to talk about him or anything,” she said, glancing down at the pebbled path.

Estelle chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes. You know, when I met your father, I wasn’t a practicing Christian. I was scared, at first, because he felt so strongly about what he stood for. I didn’t know if I could live up to that.”

“How did you know?”

“I gave it a shot,” Estelle said. “I don’t regret it. Your father gave me everything I needed. By the way, how’s the salon?”

“Oh. It’s doing well.” Lily used the same response she’d given her mom for months. Her heart burned with regret every time she’d said it, but she refused to say anything else until she clawed her way out of the mess she was in. She’d seen how selling her family’s assets had devastated Estelle, and she’d promised her mom—and herself—after Dad’s funeral, she’d do whatever she could to always keep the salon. That part of their past wouldn’t, couldn’t, be destroyed.

“Maybe one of these days you can take me back for a day trip,” Estelle said. Once a month in the past year, Lily had summoned Estelle’s clients from back in the day and brought her mom for a fun “girl’s day” at the salon she’d called home for decades.

“Yes, we’ll arrange something.” Fear churned in her stomach. In less than two years, her mother had lost her husband, battled breast cancer, then endured a hip replacement surgery. She’d left their house and moved into the retirement home. She’d lost so much, yet kept positive, in high spirits—no doubt always looking forward to those days when she visited her old stomping grounds and remembered the occupation she dearly loved. What if she had to give that up, too?

“Good. I was telling Jeff, the new resident, how well you’ve taken care of it for me.”

Lily evoked her inner Emma Stone and nodded, hoping her fake upbeat expression would come across passable. “Don’t give me too much credit, Mama. I’m not like the hairstylist for the rich and famous or anything.” These days, she’d be grateful if a poor and anonymous person stopped by for a cut.

Estelle held her hand. “No, but you’re doing what you love and also keeping the business I created,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes. Her mother rarely cried. “I just want to say, sweetie…thanks for all you’ve been doing. I worked hard to keep that place and made some of my best memories there.”

A lump of frustration lodged in Lily’s throat. She wanted to tell her mother the salon would be turned into a freaking parking garage, but the words got stuck in her mouth. She couldn’t do that to her mother. Hell, she couldn’t do that to herself. She fished out her cell phone from her pocket and glanced at the time on the screen.

Time to make up my mind.

…

“What do you mean, he’s not available?” Lily asked after a woman with a clipped voice had picked up the cell phone number Marco had given her.

Shit. In less than forty minutes his offer would expire. Why was he playing hard to get now?

“Mr. Giordano is in a meeting. He asked me to tell you you’re welcome to wait in his office,” the lady with a British accent continued. “I’ll give you directions to the VIP parking lot.”

Lily barely registered the woman’s instructions, but somehow, she managed to remember them half an hour later when she pulled into the garage. The Giordano Tower was an impressive building, and she had driven by it many times without knowing a thing about its owner.

She marched through the fancy lobby, and when she showed her ID, one of the clerks took her to the elevator himself. How confident was Marco that she’d accept his offer? Very. She doubted he’d set all this up if he thought she’d say no—she could decline over the phone. It’d have been easier. Cleaner.

Her heart thumped at each footstep she took once she exited the elevator on the top floor. She finally met the woman she’d talked to on the phone, Claire, an elegant lady in her fifties who kindly showed her in and offered her refreshments.

Alone in Marco’s office, Lily skimmed the enemy’s territory. A floor-to-ceiling glass wall brought in natural light and showcased Manhattan’s financial district. An enormous leather chair, empty, and dark wood furniture screamed money. A couple of black sofas and several newspapers from different parts of the world were neatly stacked on the coffee table. To the right was a wet bar. She didn’t miss a closed door, possibly a bathroom. This was the office of a man who moved millions every day. The office of a man who wanted to screw her for money.

Heat coiled low in her stomach, like a simmering fire waiting for the fuel to burst out in flames. A part of her hated him for thinking he could buy her, and another part of her hated herself for wanting to fuck him anyway.

When the door swung open, she spun on her heel in a mix of dread and anticipation. When this whole situation ended, she’d look for a counselor. There had to be a reasonable explanation for her crazy behavior.

“Lily.” He locked the door behind him and walked to her with a wolfish grin.

She curled and uncurled her fists, worried her nerves would get the better of her. To get through this, she needed to exercise the self-control she didn’t have. “Marco.”

“I’m glad to see you. Please, have a seat,” he said, pulling a chair for her.

She sat, and soon he made his way round the desk to sit in front of her. How did these negotiations take place? She decided on, “I have a counteroffer for you.”

A slow smile curled at his lips.

She straightened her shoulders, proud of her external calm. “I’ll be yours for a month. In return, you’re paying all my debts and I’m keeping my beauty salon. I don’t mind if you’ve already bought the other spaces around me, but you’re not turning the strip mall into a fucking garage.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh of annoyance. “Are we back to square one? How come your proposal gets you a lot more than before, and I don’t get the valuable piece of property my company needs?”

Not my problem. “You’re a resourceful man. If you look hard enough, you’ll find another solution or another place nearby to ruin and get your goddamn garage,” she said. If he said no and she lost her suite, she’d lose everything and be in debt for life. But she had to stand her ground and give her business a shot. If he wanted her bad enough, he’d do it.

“You’re smart, and I appreciate your persistence. However, I need that space and you know it. Are you willing to lose my generous offer and the opportunity for us to fuck each other’s brains out for a month?”

She stood, remembering what she had mentally rehearsed. Growing up, all her friends had been a lot more sexually aggressive and sassy than she’d ever been. She’d been a slow learner, a late bloomer, but at the same time, she’d heard a lot of stories on how to seduce a man. I hope they’re all handy now. Otherwise this is embarrassing.

“You’re missing the point. You’ll be missing the chance to fuck me for a month,” she said, and pulled her shirt over her head. She wished she had something sexier on, like hot pink lingerie and a suggestive trench coat. For now, her jeans and shirt had to do. “Do you know I haven’t slept around a whole lot in my life? Had a couple of long relationships, but that’s it,” she said, staring at him square in the eye. She didn’t miss the way his Adam’s apple moved, like he’d swallowed hard. His gaze held hers, and a delicious strand of female empowerment traveled down her spine. “I never even tried anal sex. I suppose it can be fun with the right partner, but the pastor’s daughter in me always thought that’s too much of an indulgence to try with a man you’re not married to.”

He rocked back in his chair, shifted in his seat, and from where she stood she saw the hard-on burgeoning in his pants. “Keep talking.”

“So I’ve never experienced butt play, or sex toys. Besides mediocre vaginal sex, I’m the next thing to a virgin.” She unclasped the hook of her bra and let it fall off her arms to the floor. During high school, she’d tried to minimize her DD cups as much as possible, to keep from getting too much attention.

He licked his lips, and a charge of heat bolted down her core. Shit. She hoped she pulled this off. What if he threw his head back and laughed, kicked her ass so she’d leave crying with her clothes in her hands? “Wanna see something cute, Marco?”

He gave her a slow nod, his eyes darkening.

She pulled down the top of her hipster underwear, showing him the tattoo of a blue butterfly she’d gotten when she’d been seventeen. Her quiet, small act of rebellion. “I love butterflies, so I got this done. I guess it’s the bad girl in me wanting to get out.”

His gaze slid from her breasts down her belly until he saw the small tat under her waistline. “Take it off,” he said gruffly.

She pulled up her underwear, hiding her butterfly from view. “See, I’d love to, but I can’t. Not until I have your word.”

With a sigh, he surged to his feet, thrusting his fingers into his hair. She didn’t move an inch, resolute in not giving in. She’d thought this through during her drive from visiting her mother. If he’d wanted her badly enough, he’d go the extra mile. All or nothing.

“When we settle everything, I’ll do my best to give you a worthy performance and take all my clothes off. Hell, I’ll even dance for you. What is it going to be, Money Pants?”