Page 48 of Arrogant Heir
What if I come on to him and he rejects me? That would betooembarrassing. I think I might just die and sink through the floor. My mind floats off to imagine him reporting me to his grandfather, saying I sexually propositioned him, and he must break my contract immediately. I’d be accused of sexual harassment.
Taking a deep breath, I try to shake that image. I don’t really believe this would happen—I mean he’s a playboy for God’s sake—so it seems unlikely he’d turn down a no-strings sexual encounter,but I’m frozen in my chair and just can’t bring myself to come onto him.
I wish I was one of those sexually free women who just takes it when she wants it and knows no shame. In reality, I slept with the same guy for years. Simon isn’t the sexiest being and we fell into a familiar routine which couldn’t be described as erotic by any stretch, but I know what he likes, and he sort of knows what I like. I wasn’t always sexually satisfied with Simon, which is why I bought a vibrator a few years ago. It was Shani who told me to get one. She said she doesn’t need a man for sex anymore—it’sthatgood…
She’s not entirely wrong. It is that good if you want it to be time efficient and without the emotional complexity of a relationship. But I’m burning up for Damian and am desperate to feel his large hands raking over my body and thrilling my skin. He must be good in bed, given how experienced he is—that’s if you believe what they say in the papers.
‘Red. Where did you go?’
I blink and forcibly try to hold back my blushes. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘I’m saying I’ve had an idea and have an unusual proposition for you.’
Meeting his green eyes, my stomach still churning at the thought of him touching me, I say as coolly as possible, ‘A proposition?’ My voice is croaky, and I don’t sound cool at all.
He stands and heads over to the open plan paradise of his luxury kitchen. I hear ice clinking and the sound of running water from the fridge. Returning, he passes me a glass and says, ‘Drink.’
He’s just as authoritative as ever, even if he did treat me to five pairs of designer shoes and throw me a delightful compliment earlier.
I guzzle the water and place the glass on the table. ‘Thanks, that’s better. I must be dehydrated. What were you saying about a proposition?’
He clears his throat and runs his fingers through his dark hair. ‘It’s a little unorthodox,’ he says, his eyes challenging. A thrilling sensation runs through me, and I meet his stare full on, suddenly bold.
‘Isn’t everything where you’re concerned?’ I ask, teasing, trying to ease the tension I feel.
‘Perhaps, but I only want you to agree to this if you are completely happy about it. It’s outside the remit of the book contract and I’m asking you as a friend, not an employee.’ He coughs this time and looks nervous.
‘What can I do to help?’ I ask, automatically reverting to business-speak. He is a client, after all, even if I do want to ride him.
‘The charity ball is coming up at the Rochester Hotel in London next week. I’d forgotten all about it until my assistant reminded me this morning. Apparently, it’s my turn to attend this year. We wouldn’t need to stay long, but I do need to show my face.’
‘We?’
‘Correct.’
‘Are you asking me to attend the charity ball as your date, or as your ghostwriter?’
He rubs his hand over his angular jaw and across his stubble. ‘As I said, I’m asking you more as a friend.’ His green-eyed gaze is enigmatic as he adds, ‘Actually, I’m asking you as my fake date. That’s the unorthodox part.’
My mouth falls open slightly. ‘That’s the last thing I expected you to say.’
He laughs. The hard angles of his face soften and my heart skits about in my chest.
‘Why do you need a fake date when you clearly have absolutely no problem at all attracting as many women as you want?’
‘Well, that’s just it,’ he says, frowning. ‘I can’t afford to keep hooking up with women I don’t trust and risk being all over the papers again. Grandfather will blow a gasket if I keep hitting the headlines.’
His bizarre request makes sense to me, but my heart is pounding. ‘Right. And I am the obvious fake date, because—?’
‘It’s the perfect solution. We’re already in the papers as a couple—they’re calling you my mystery girlfriend so they don’t know who you are, which means we can be discreet and only people at the ball will know you’re there. No one even knows your name.’
‘Won’t you want coverage for the media?’
‘Well, yes, but they think you’re already my girlfriend, so it’s no big deal if you’re on my arm.’
‘What about the press release?’
‘I was thinking we can hold off on the book announcement for now, and just go with something about how we weren’t together when I hooked up with the club girl. The story will die out because there’ll be nowhere for it to go. Anyone who meets her will realise she was just trying to snag a rich husband and I imagine she’ll pick a winner soon, anyway.’