“Open the door and you’ll find out.” There was a firm air of command to his tone that sent shivers down her back. He didn’t look like a killer. But then, Ted Bundy had been a handsome dude with a psychotic streak. She gave a final look through the peephole. Certainly karma couldn’t be that cruel as to send a killer to her door when her day had already been pretty crappy, right?
Shaking her head at her own misgivings, she slowly opened the door to regard the handsome stranger warily. “What can I do for you?”
“Invite me in.”
“That’s what vampires say,” she murmured without thinking, her cheeks heating when she realized she might’ve just revealed that she didn’t spend much time around actual people.
His even smile revealed nice, white teeth but no fangs. That was a good sign. She stepped aside and let him enter her apartment.
He perused her apartment for a long moment and then made himself comfortable on her sofa, lounging even. “Nice place,” he said finally and she frowned.
“Who are you?”
“Sutton Buchanan.”
Buchanan...name sounded familiar. A memory surfaced and her eyes widened. “Of THE Buchanans? As in Buchanan Enterprises?” One of Forbes richest men in the world. Top 100 for sure.
“So you’ve heard of my family?” He smiled, knowing full well that she had. “Good. Then you know that I’m accustomed to getting what I want.”
Elizabeth chaffed at the arrogance in his tone. “What could you possibly want from me? I have nothing to offer someone like you.”
“You haven’t heard my offer.”
Offer? “What are you talking about?” Suddenly, her hopes rose. Maybe this had something to do with the art house! “Did Mr. Polk change his mind? Is he willing to feature my art in the upcoming exhibit?”
He chuckled and flicked imaginary lint from his pant leg. “Tell me about your sister.”
Elizabeth drew back. “What?”
“Your sister. She has...issues?”
Elizabeth’s cheeks stung and she cursed her decision to share anything personal with that worm Polk. “Why?”
“Because I want to hear it from your own lips.”
“My personal information is not for your entertainment,” she said stiffly, wishing she hadn’t let the man into her house.
As it was he was sucking up all the oxygen in the tiny apartment because she couldn’t quite catch her breath and she was intensely aware of every beat of her heart.
“I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. It was a moment of bad judgment and I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t rub my nose in it.”
Sutton drew a quick breath as if finished with the small talk and said, “Buchanan Enterprises owns Covington House. A recent acquisition that I questioned until running into you. Let’s just say, you’ve made everything much more interesting and I’m inspired to embark on a project.”
“A project?” she repeated, confused and more than a little wary. “What kind of project?”
He ignored her direct question and rose to wander to the window, glancing down at the street and back to her. “This place is abysmal.”
“It’s what I could afford.”
“Exactly.”
She glared. “Did you come here for a purpose?”
His gaze raked her body and she stuttered at the blatant perusal. Had he just...? Elizabeth blushed, thrown off by the interest in his gaze. Men like Sutton Buchanan — fit, suave, devastatingly handsome and virile — did not look at Elizabeth like Sutton was right now.
“I’m a direct man, Miss Downing. Shall I present my terms?”
Terms? “What are you talking about?”
“I want you.”
“M-me? Want me for what?”
Sutton’s answering smile made her heart stop. He couldn’t mean...? He cleared up her confusion. “The simple answer is I want to fuck you but that’s not the whole of it. I want to own you. Body and soul. I want to strip you naked and make you suck my cock at a moment’s notice. I want to watch you come when I snap my fingers. I want you to be at my beck and call. My own personal little sweet slut and I’m willing to pay for it.”
For a long moment all Elizabeth could do was stare in utter shock.
He’d just propositioned her.
Sutton Buchanan, one of the richest men in the world had just asked her to be his whore.
What the hell was this world coming to? Was this a prank?
An ugly thought came to her.
“Because I’m fat? Is that it? You think you can make me a disgusting offer like that just because I should be grateful that anyone would want to fuck me, much less a man like you?”
Her eyes burned with sudden tears but she held them back. She wasn’t going to cry twice in one day!
He laughed at her fears. “You say fat, I say soft and squeezable.”
Elizabeth was still reeling from his indecent offer. Did this actually happen to real people? “I don’t understand...” that was all she could manage at the moment.
Sutton seized the opportunity to keep talking as if it were completely normal to blatantly proposition a complete stranger.
“Here’s what I propose: I will take care of your sister’s housing issue and persuade Polk to reconsider your position as a Covington House artist, as well as pay you an exorbitant sum as compensation for your role.” He flicked a dismissive glance at her apartment. “Enough to move out of this disgusting hovel for starters and buy a real car.”
He’d seen her busted down Honda? “There’s nothing wrong with my car. It gets me to where I’m going.”
“You’re going nowhere,” he pointed out cruelly. “You need connections and I can provide them. In the art world, talent isn’t enough.”
She hated that he was right. How long had she been trying to gain some traction only to find the doors slamming shut for one reason or another?
She was at the point where giving up was hovering at the edge of her mind but she simply couldn’t imagine life without her art.
Art had kept her sane when her entire world had crumbled.
Art kept her going when she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
“My art is everything,” she said in an anguished whisper, mostly to herself.
“I would allow you sufficient breaks to work on your art,” he allowed as if being magnanimous, then added with a shrug, “I might enjoy watching you paint naked.”
His flippant comment jerked her back to the moment. Indignant, she spat, “I don’t know why you thought I would be open to a disgusting offer as this but--“
“Because you have nothing and you are going nowhere,” he cut in with ruthless simplicity. “I can change all that. Isn’t the hope of a bright future worth a such a small price?”
“A small price?” she sputtered. “You want me to whore myself to you!”
“Yes.”
“I’m not a whore.”
“Everyone has a price. Even you.”
“You’re wrong.” Elizabeth lifted her chin, determined to prove her point. She’d find a way — a more respectable way — to solve her problems.
She had two months to figure out the housing situation with Gretchen. Maybe she could pick up more shifts at the diner? Or maybe she could sell some of her art on eBay?
Or maybe...Sutton calmly scribbled something on the back of a business card and thrust it at her with an efficient smile.
Elizabeth accepted the card and flipped it around. She gasped. HOLY FUCKING HELL! That was a lot of zeros.
“My number is on the card. Think about it.”
And then he let himself out.
Elizabeth couldn’t think. Couldn’t see beyond that ridiculous number. The things she could do with that kind of money.
She saw all her problems fading in the shadow of that giant number. She also saw her dignity and pride shrinking in the face of that number.
No. She couldn’t do it. Money didn’t solve every problem, except hers, a small voice whispered.
No. It wasn’t that cut and dry. She was raised with morals and values. Her parents would roll over in their graves if they knew what their daughter was contemplating.
Wait...was she contemplating?
Those zeros made her head swim. It was ridiculous money. It was the kind of money that people dreamed of winning at the lottery or the slots.
Not the kind of money that a good girl like Elizabeth should be thinking about.
But what about Gretchen?
What was going to happen when her sister turned eighteen and Rising Dawn was forced to dump her out of the wonderful, shiny, happy program that’d been a Godsend for their family?
Elizabeth feared for their future without Rising Dawn. Gretchen would regress; Elizabeth would have to work two jobs to hire an in-house nurse. God only knew how she could afford such a service.
Tears threatened again and this time she let them fall. She deserved a good cry over this. Anyone else would’ve been bawling their head off by this point.
Elizabeth stared at the business card, hating Sutton’s offer, hating Sutton for tempting her with a devil’s bargain.
He wanted to have sex with her. Not just a one and done, either. He wanted to own her for a time period. How long?
He hadn’t said.
What kind of man made an offer like that? A man without a moral bone in his body, clearly.
And what kind of woman would, even reluctantly, consider such an offer?