The VIP Room(149)

"You're smart."

I open my mouth to object, again, that Blake has no handle on my intellect, but he's already on to his next point.

"You're beautiful."

My cheeks flush red. "Thank you."

"You have terms."

I nod.

"What are they?"

I press my palm against the window. That same sleek, cold glass. "What would we even be doing?"

His hand brushes my shoulders. Then my cheek. He tilts my chin so we're eye to eye. "You would play my girlfriend. It’s mostly dinners, weekend trips, events. Some fun, most dull."

"Okay."

"It needs to seem real. You need to convince everyone you're in love with me."

"I'm not an actor," I say. "And I'm not keen on lying to anyone, much less everyone."

His eyes are on fire. "My intentions are good."

"You're still lying."

"Some things can't be avoided."

I polish off the last bit of my drink. This time, the crisp bite does nothing to cool me. I'm still hot all over.

I consider refusing, throwing my ice in his face, and protesting the whole idea of this charade. But I'm intrigued. And if he really is willing to compromise...

I unbutton my coat. Blake slides it off my shoulders and hangs it on the door to his office.

He offers me his hand. I take it and that same heat builds in my body. There's something about Blake, something overwhelming, captivating, and sexy as all hell.

"Why do you need me?" I ask. "Why not find some girl who wants to be your girlfriend?"

"That wouldn't be fair."

"Why?"

"She'd have expectations." He steps back into his office and slides his suit jacket off his shoulders. "I don't fall in love. I never have, and I never will."

"How do you know?"

His voice is even. "I don't buy into the concept."

What the hell? I nod like it's normal to not buy into the concept of love.

He takes my glass and pours another round of drinks. I sit on that same leather couch, my eyes glued to the forearms peeking out of his rolled up sleeves. Who knew forearms could be so damn sexy?

"What are your terms, Kat?" He hands me a drink.

Our fingers touch, and it ignites a fire inside me. Is it even possible I'll survive playing his girlfriend? He's so intoxicating. It will be impossible not to feel something for him.

"The mortgage to my apartment." I take a deep breath, attempting my best I'm as badass and confident as any tech executive. "I want it paid in full."

"Done." He says it like he's agreeing to coffee.

"You don't even know how much is left on it. What if it's three hundred thousand dollars? Or half a million?"

"Send me the bank information, and it's done."

"Like that?"

He nods. "What else?"

I struggle to form a coherent thought. The mortgage, done, like it's nothing. That can't be possible. That payment has been a pain in the ass the last three years and it will be gone. Done.

"My sister got into NYU. She's worked hard to keep her grades up. She deserves to go to whatever school she chooses without six figures of student loans."

"Elizabeth Wilder?"

"Yeah." My heart races. I know he owns a search engine, but I still don't like him having all these details about my sister.

"Sterling Tech selects scholarships students every year. She placed in a math competition last year. Is she studying STEM?"

"What, you don't know?" I polish off this glass too. My face flushes. The heat travels down my throat and chest, settling in my stomach.

"Not yet."

I nod. "Computer science or programming. I forget the difference. She wants to study artificial intelligence."

He holds my gaze for a long moment. He shifts off the couch and types something into his computer. "Done."

"What?"

"Your sister will be offered a scholarship. One hundred percent of her tuition for four years."

I swear my heart stops. "What? How did you... You can't..."

"It's done."

"But what if I leave now? What if I say no."

"You won't." He sits next to me on the couch. "Anything else you want?" His hand brushes against my arms as he moves my drink to a side table.

Heat races through my body. His hand feels so good on my arm. It's a pleasure I haven't experienced in years, and it's only my arm. It's practically innocent.

"I want to keep my job."

"I'll need you a lot of nights and weekends."

"Still. At least a few shifts a week."

He nods. His fingers brush against my inner knees. "You're independent."

"Yes."

"I respect that." He drags those fingers up my inner thigh. "But I will pay your living expenses while we're together--food, clothes, anything else you need. I'll have a credit card sent to your house tomorrow."

"I can't take your credit card."

"Kat. Do you know my net worth?"

I swallow hard. "No."