Page 6 of Sinful Abandon

Nudging Ryan, I say, “Give him your shoes.”

Not asking any questions, Ryan takes off his shoes and hands them to Charlie.

With my hands on the concierge desk, I look at Charlie with a serious expression. “This is Ryan Pierson. You are not allowed to return his shoes until I call from upstairs and say that I am alive and safe. Sound good?”

Not one to argue with me, Charlie takes Ryan’s shoes and hands him a valet ticket.

Pulling on Ryan’s hand, I drag him to the elevator bank and up to my apartment. With my stilettos on, I’m as tall as he is, giving me the brass balls I need to be commanding over him. For someone who was arguing with me twenty minutes ago, he sure is playing the submissive awfully well.

I open my front door, turn on the light, and let my trench coat fall to the credenza.

“Um, did you mean to do that?” he asks from the threshold.

I raise a bare shoulder and smirk. “You’ve already seen the goods. What difference does it make now? Want a drink?”

I’m halfway to the minibar when Ryan decides to take a tentative step into my house. I have the tumblers out and the vodka poured when I catch him eyeing up my apartment.

I hand him a glass and hold mine out for a cheers. Our glasses clink.

“Nice place you have here,” Ryan says.

“Goes with the package. A woman needs the right aesthetics to attract the right buyer.” I take a sip from my glass.

“Are you selling?” he asks. It’s somewhat endearing.

“No.” I smirk. “I’m in the market for a man. A rich one.” As the words come out of my mouth, I think of Jarrod and his pelvic thrusts into Misty Waters.

Oh my God, he was still pumping, even while I was standing there!

I take a deep breath through my nose and blow it out my mouth. Why do I always pick the shittiest men? Last year, I was two years into throwing myself at my last boss, Alexander Asher, only to have the man, who said he would never marry, meet another woman and marry her. She probably drugged him or some other nonsense. For two years, I’d tried to get that guy and nothing, not even a one-night stand.

At least with Jarrod, we’ve had a relationship. I couldn’t tell anyone, of course. He is my boss, and that kind of thing is frowned upon. But, once he proposed, who would care if they fired me? I could find work somewhere else, but I couldn’t find another Jarrod.

At least, not another Jarrod with his kind of trust fund.

“You have a CD collection?” Ryan walks over to the entertainment unit and fingers through my music. “I’ve never met anyone who actually owns CDs.”

He’s brushing his fingers over the plastic of a Rihanna CD, like it’s an artifact. Without asking, he turns on the CD player and puts the disc inside. I haven’t listened to this album since college. The Barbadian singer’s voice bellows out from the speakers, and Ryan goes back to exploring the room.

He’s nice to look at. Tall with a muscular frame that’s more lean than bulky, he’s strong and secure with a face like a Calvin Klein model. Man, why do the poor ones always have to be so damn handsome?

“You don’t have any pictures,” he states.

I motion to the scenic one above the sofa and wonder how in the world he is missing the giant picture.

“I mean, personal pics, like with friends, family, travel. You know, the kind of pictures people place around their homes?”

“I don’t like people, so why would I have pictures of them?”

“Not even your parents?” he asks with the rise of perfect brows.

“My dad sucks, so, no, not even them.”

He does another glance around the room. “So, all of these things are just props to attract a wealthy man?”

I raise a finger and give him a wide-eyed and open-mouthed face that says, Bingo!

He leans back on his heels and takes a lingering drink from the tumbler, his lush lips kissing the crystal. Those piercing eyes are steady on me. “You ever been in love, Heather?”