His gaze darkened to a glower, and I nearly trembled at the intensity of it. “I have never forced myself on a woman, and I never will, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
A breath of relief left my lips. “I had to be sure. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“I promise no harm will come to you by my hand. But as for sex…” He rose to his feet and walked the few steps toward me, making me look up at him. Then he bent forward and rested his hands on the back of the couch on either side of my head, caging me in. “Don’t you know who I am? They call me the devil for a reason. Temptation, lust, sin, all wrapped up in a neat little package. Oh, who am I kidding? A huge package. Trust me, before the week ends you’ll be begging for every single thing I do to you.”
He was entirely too close, his face inches from my own, his green eyes burning like a fire had been lit from within. Desire rushed through me like I’d never felt before, but it was mixed with a heavy dash of fear. My gaze dropped down to his mouth, only a breath apart from mine, and I ached for him to close the space between us, even as I wanted to run from him.
I forced my eyes back up to meet his intense gaze. I couldn’t think of another way to find Brandy. I’d tried everything I could, but nothing had worked. If I didn’t do this, I’d fail completely.
This was my last chance.
“I agree,” I said, with as much courage as I could muster.
"Excellent." He straightened up and walked to the other side of the room casually while my heart raced in my chest. He picked up a pad of paper and a pen, then handed them to me. “Write down everything you know about your friend’s disappearance. Names, dates, and so forth.”
As I scribbled down all the details, apprehension making my handwriting look like someone else’s, he watched me closely. I kept glancing up as the pen scratched along the paper, unable to keep my eyes off him. Why did I feel like I was signing away my soul with our deal?
When I’d written down everything I could think of, I gave him back his notepad and pen. He closed his hands around mine to take them, and heat shot down to pool between my thighs again. Unexpected longing rose in my chest, and I swallowed as I tried to bring order and coherence back to my thoughts.
“Where are you staying?” he asked.
“This cheap place off The Strip.” I looked away, embarrassed to say the name of it. I’d scrambled up every penny I had to come here, but it was nothing compared to this penthouse. "Double Down Motel.”
His face twisted with disgust. "Give me your room key. I'll have all your things brought here.”
“What about my car?” I asked.
“My people will handle that as well.”
I raised an eyebrow at that, but pulled out my keys and handed them to him. He had people? I thought people who had people were just a myth. Who actually had people to do shit for them?
“Good.” He pocketed them and held out a hand. “Now follow me.”
Every time I touched him I felt…things. I kept my hands to myself. “Where?”
“To your new room.” His voice dripped with promise. “Though I suspect you’ll soon prefer mine."
We walked down a corridor and he threw open a door at the end. Unlike the rest of the penthouse I’d seen so far, which was all decorated in black and silver, this room was done in neutral tones. The queen-sized bed had one of those padded headboards behind it and was covered in lush blankets, a thick duvet, and soft-looking pillows. On the other side of the room was a cute sitting area and a desk in front of windows looking out at The Strip. A door led to a walk-in closet as large as my old apartment, and another opened to a massive bathroom all done in Carrera marble.
“This is your guest room?” I asked, as I took it all in, spinning in a slow circle. If this was for guests, what did his bedroom look like?
His lips quirked up in amusement. “It’s yours now. Make yourself comfortable. Order anything you like from room service. My people will bring your things along shortly, while I begin my investigation into your friend’s whereabouts.”
I shook my head, part in denial, part in wonder. This situation made no sense, and I was starting to wonder what the catch was. Maybe this was a case of mistaken identity of some sort. After all, why would he want me—me, of all people—for seven nights? I was just a basic bookworm with a nice set of boobs and a cute smile, who worked in a flower shop and wore flip-flops and jeans. Nothing special. Not compared to the women he probably surrounded himself with all the time.