Chapter 14

Olivia

We finished our dessert in silence, the tension building with each bite. By the time the chef cleared our plates, my skin felt too tight, and every nerve ended on high alert.

"Thank you, Antoine. You've outdone yourself," Alexander said, standing to shake the chef's hand. "That will be all for tonight."

The chef bowed slightly. "Very good, sir. I've left everything prepared for breakfast, should you need it."

The implication in those words wasn't lost on me. How many women had sat where I was sitting? How many had stayed for breakfast?

After the chef left, Alexander turned to me. "Would you like a tour?"

"Sure," I said, standing too quickly and feeling the wine rush to my head. "Lead the way."

He showed me through the penthouse, starting with a home office with sweeping views of the city—views so mesmerizing they would surely make concentration impossible. Next was a gym that rivaled the commercial one I frequented, equipped with every machine and gadget imaginable. Then, we moved on to a theater room with plush seats arranged in perfect tiers, designed for ultimate comfort and an immersive viewing experience.

"How many bedrooms does this place have?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"Three. My master suite, a guest room, and one I use as a secondary office."

"And how many women have you brought here?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

Alexander paused, turning to face me. "Does that matter?"

"No," I lied. "Just curious how many women have gotten the billionaire treatment before me."

"Fewer than you might think." His eyes held mine. "This isn't a routine for me, Olivia."

"Right." I rolled my eyes. "I'm special. I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Actually, I don't." His voice hardened slightly. "I don't bring women here often. This space is private."

"So what am I doing here then?" I challenged, crossing my arms under my breasts, inadvertently pushing them up.

His eyes dropped to my cleavage before returning to my face. "I thought that was obvious."

"Enlighten me."

"I'm trying to convince you to marry me."

"By showing me your penthouse? What, am I supposed to get wet over your square footage?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "I'm showing you a glimpse of what your life could be."

"A gilded cage is still a cage."

"Is that what you think this would be?" He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "A cage?"

"What else would you call it? You want to buy me. Like some fancy toy."

"I want to make a mutually beneficial arrangement," he corrected. "One that would solve my problems and eliminate yours."

"My only problem right now is standing in front of me," I shot back.

His lips quirked up. "Am I a problem, Olivia?"

"Yes." I took a step back, bumping into the wall. "A very big problem."

"How big?" he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous register as he moved closer.

My eyes widened as I realized the double entendre. "That's not what I meant."

"No?" He braced one hand on the wall beside my head, caging me in. "What did you mean, then?"

My breath caught in my throat. The wine, food, and luxury surrounding us were all going to my head. I needed to remember why I was here. This wasn't a date. This was a business proposition—a bizarre, life-altering business proposition.

"I meant," I said, finding my voice, "that you're my boss. And you're asking me to marry you. And you're..." I gestured vaguely at his body, "...you."

"What about me?" His face was inches from mine now.

"You're Alexander fucking Carter. You date models and actresses. Not junior marketing executives who live in apartments with leaky faucets and IKEA furniture."

"Maybe I'm tired of models and actresses." His thumb brushed my cheek, sending sparks racing across my skin. "Maybe I want someone real."

My heart pounded against my ribs like it was trying to escape. Alexander leaned in, his breath warm against my lips. I closed my eyes, waiting for the press of his mouth against mine.

Instead, his lips brushed my ear. "You're trembling, Olivia."

"I'm cold," I lied, my voice barely a whisper.

"Mmm." His nose traced the curve of my jaw, inhaling deeply. "You don't smell cold."

Holy shit. What did that even mean? My panties were soaked, and I wondered if he could actually smell my arousal.

"What do I smell like?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them.

His hand slid to my waist, fingers splaying possessively. "Like desire. Like need."

I swallowed hard, my nipples tightening to painful points. His mouth hovered over mine, so close I could taste the wine on his breath.

Then he stepped back, leaving me panting against the wall.

"Let me show you the rest of the place," he said, as if he hadn't just turned my insides to molten lava.

Motherfucker. My legs were shaking, my clit throbbing. I wanted to grab him by his perfect silk tie and drag his mouth to mine.

Instead, I pushed off the wall and straightened my dress. "Lead the way."

He showed me a guest room bigger than my apartment, decorated in soothing blues and grays. The en-suite bathroom had a rainfall shower big enough for four people.

"And this," he said, opening the final door, "is the master suite."

Holy fuck.

A massive bed draped in charcoal silk sheets dominated the room. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the twinkling city below, and a fireplace crackled in the corner. The room screamed sex, from the mirrored ceiling above the bed to the plush rug that looked perfect for activities that didn't involve standing.

I wondered how many women he'd fucked in that bed. How many had writhed beneath him on those sheets, screaming his name as he pounded into them. The image made my thighs clench together.

Had he bent them over that sleek dresser? Pressed them against those windows where anyone in a helicopter could see? Fucked them in that massive shower I glimpsed through the open bathroom door?

"Impressed?" he asked, misreading my silence.

"It's very... you," I managed, trying to sound unaffected.

His bedroom was the lair of a man who knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. A predator's den.

"One more thing to show you," he said, leading me back through the living room to a set of glass doors.