Page 7 of Starving for Her

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Page 7 of Starving for Her

Layla

I don’t knowwhat I’m doing as I climb into the back seat of a ridiculously expensive car. I must be crazy, I think. But Gina is all smiles as she gets in beside me. If she wasn’t with me, I wouldn’t be going back. It’s that simple. But I also don’t want to be evicted, and if I can somehow manage to take this job without things getting messy, then it could be an answer to my problems with Sam.

We sit in silence for the duration of the drive, which isn’t too long. My heart is fluttering like a butterfly on crack as the gates to his house open and we slide silently up the driveway and park in front of his house.

“Look at it!” Gina laughs as we get out. “MTV Cribs, right? Holy shit!”

“Keep your voice down!” I scold her as the man who introduced himself as Al, who I assume is James’ man-servant of some kind, escorts us to the door. I feel even more nervous now than I did when I was coming in on my own with a wrapped-up plate of pulled pork.

“Relax,” Gina tells me. “Why do you think he bought such a huge house? He wants people to notice and talk about it.”

Al opens the door and we step inside. I was in such a rush earlier that I didn’t really take in the elaborate foyer; white marble with two busts that look like they’re from Ancient Greece, a crystal chandelier overhead and two enormous modern art paintings on either side—splashes of color that I actually really like.

“Imagine if this was your house,” Gina whispers as Al closes the door behind us and walks through a side door.

“I’m not marrying the guy, Gina,” I hiss. The door opens again, and James steps through, looking—admittedly—like a million (no, a billion) bucks.

“Why the fuck not?” she says out of the side of her mouth as he walks toward us. He’s relaxed a little since before, and is now wearing a pair of sweatpants that look expensive, and a pristine white tank top that’s showing off his tanned physique and perfectly sculpted biceps.

His dark brown hair is swept back and gelled, with a couple of stray pieces falling perfectly across his forehead. Smiling, he keeps his eyes on me as he crosses the foyer like an emperor. He doesn’t even acknowledge Gina until she speaks.

“Hi, I’m Gina!” she says, sounding like a valley girl. James takes her hand and shakes it.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “I need to be alone with Layla. Al will bring you to the game room where you can wait for her.”

He’s not even asking her, I think. She looks over at me. I look back at James; it’s clear he means it. If we’re going to have this discussion, it’s going to be one-on-one. I nod to Gina, who squeezes me on the shoulder and whispers.

“Do it, do it!”

She follows Al, who leads her around the wide staircase and down a hallway, leaving me and the genius-inventor-playboy-billionaire alone together, and for the second time today, I feel my body starting to betray me.

It’s like an impossible war to keep my eyes off James’ arms. He looks like he could curl a Buick, and I can’t help but wonder what his abs look like. Six pack—or is it an eight pack—I’m sure. Does he have a big dick?

I visibly shake my head as I try to get rid of the invasive thought. I’ve been so disinterested in men for the last…well…ever, that Gina has joked with me about the fact that I might just be asexual. I don’t watch porn, I don’t masturbate, and I definitely don’t fantasize about the dicks of men I’ve just met.

But here I am, doing just that…

“You didn’t change,” he says simply.

“Yeah, well there wasn’t any time,” I lie. I wasn’t going to change anyway. “Your bag man made it seem like this was pretty urgent.”

“Yeah, it is,” he replies. “I need something to eat.”

There’s a tone to his voice, and I get the feeling he means something other than food. This is going to be harder than I thought.

“Listen, Mr. Russell—”

“I want to offer you the job, Layla,” he says. “The starting salary is sixty thousand.”

I try not to gasp. “Sixty thousand a year?”

James laughs. “A month.”

Jaw. Drop.

“I thought you’d like that,” he says, walking right up to me. I can smell his hair gel, his deodorant and a hint of his musk beneath it, and I feel more sensations I’m not used to feeling, flittering around inside me.

“But there’s something I need from you first.”




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