Page 18 of The Billionaire’s Arrangement
I put my face in my hands. “Apologies for assuming, but please stop criticizing me. I didn’t want to go to the party, but Iwas desperate. My dad needs a kidney, and my parents may lose the house because of all the medical bills. Mom is overworked. I was willing to become a sugar baby or a surrogate to save them. I was even considering selling my virginity, too. Okay? Not everyone is as fortunate as you. So go ahead and judge me. I feel horrible enough.”
Paul went quiet, and once again, I wanted to sink into the ground.Why on earth did I just say that?He must think I’m so pathetic.
But then he spoke up.
“Anything could have happened to you, and I wouldn’t have been able to stop it. I’m angry, and I want you to take the danger you had placed yourself in seriously.”
“My roommate, Sophie, does it, and she’s fine.”
“If she has opiates to hand out, then I’d say your roommate is far from fine.”
My skin burned. I hadn’t thought of that.
Paul exhaled a long breath. “I only wished you’d have waited for me, Nadia. But that’s my fault. I didn’t give you a reason to.”
Waited for him? What did he mean?I had no idea why he’d been so accommodating tonight, but all I could be was thankful.
“Thank you, Paul. You’ve done enough, and after the chaos I caused, I’m sure no one will allow me on any website now.”
“Good.” He poured a shampoo that smelled like lavender on my head and worked it in. “You vomited into your hair,” he said incredulously.
I giggled.
He broke into a grin and shook his head. “Damn, you’re too fucking adorable. We’ll talk tomorrow. Let’s put you to bed.”
Paul turned away from me, and I removed my underwear and cleaned myself, rinsing the soap out of my hair and squeezing out the excess water.
“A nightshirt is in the cupboard, and open the drawer for a toothbrush.”
“Thank you so much, Paul.”
“You’re welcome, Nadia.”
He closed the bathroom door, and I washed again, using the shower and rinsing out the tub. After drying and changing, I padded out of the room.
Paul stood at the side of the bed and pulled back the duvet, and my pulse sped up.He waited for me.I crawled in, careful not to flash him.
“Now, I’m going to burn my suit and take a shower,” he mused as he winked at me.
I laughed, then choked back tears.I could have been sexually assaulted tonight.
The constant pressure to make money and not being able to help my parents had caused me to make poor decisions. However, the desperate length and risk I took tonight could have ended a lot worse.
Even though I called Sophie and thought I called Xander, deep down, I knew they wouldn’t have done a fraction of what Paul had done for me.I don’t know why.
“Can you stay a little longer, Paul? I’m kind of a baby when I’m sick,” I croaked. But it was more than that. Paul made a different kind of fear rise. I needed tofeelthat he didn’t hate me. I had only known the man for so few hours, yet, deep down, I craved something from him.Acceptance.I wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring. I’d probably be just as distressed as I was tonight. My worries won’t suddenly disappear.But I would like to have one more friend in my corner.So I hoped desperately I hadn’t blown that chance with Paul.
He didn’t answer, but came to the side and rubbed my back, and somehow his soothing touch lulled me to sleep.
What was left unspoken was the question of what Paul Crane wanted from me.
Ilifted my arms to stretch, and my mouth dropped open. High above was a domed ceiling with fresco paintings and a skylight with rays of light shining through.This must be heaven. The four-poster oak bed was massive and grand. It was ornately carved and fit for royalty with a mattress as soft as a cloud, sheets as smooth as silk, and pillows plush with down feathers. These pillows don’t have feathers poking through like my own.And that was just the bed.
A massive marble fireplace had Baroque chairs and seats intermixed with modern custom couches placed in front of it. The place had a Renaissance feel I’d imagine in Paris or the Czech Republic. Everything was meticulously crafted with care and love. It was like taking a walk through time. Over one of the mantles was a photo of Paul with his late wife, Aubrey. She had a violin in her hand as Paul swung her around in front of the Prague Astronomical Clock. Aubrey was beautiful, but I was captivated by Paul. He appeared younger. Happier. Freer.
Was this their marital bedroom? But instantly, I doubted it. Paul was a private man. He wouldn’t dare share such an intimate place with someone he barely knew.
Yet, he brought me to his home instead of returning me to the dorms. A dull ache throbbed in my temples, and I swallowed against the sandpaper feeling in my throat. The more awake I became, the more memories returned, and my delight switched to humiliation. I was sick, and Sophie gave me drugs instead of aspirin. Her boyfriend Trevor came on to me, and I vomited on a guy’s shoes. If that wasn’t bad enough, I called Paul. Not only did he show up, but he also took me to a doctor.He practically bathed me. Why on earth did he do that for me?