The Billionaire's Virgin(20)

The sense of shame deepened, though she tried not to let it.

Eventually the elevator stopped and the doors slid open directly out into the largest room she’d ever seen. It was bigger than the dining room at the shelter, or even the bunk room, and for a long moment all she could do was stare.

There were windows on at least three sides. Massive windows, beyond which there was nothing but the lights of the New York skyline and darkness and whirling snow. The room was dim but as soon as she stepped out of the elevator, lights came on, not straight away bright like an ordinary light switch, but gradually. They seemed to come from recessed places in the high ceiling, the light that came from them warm and diffuse, illuminating the rest of the room.

It was like an art gallery, there was no other way she could describe it. Or maybe a palace. Or maybe it was what heaven was like, because she simply had no other frame of reference.

The floor was thickly carpeted in deep charcoal, and an arrangement of long, low white sofas sat in front of the soaring windows. There were shelves built into the walls with stuff on them, but nothing that looked cluttered or untidy. A sculpture here. Sleekly spined books there. A glass vase and a bowl of flowers. In front of the sofa was a low coffee table stacked with magazines and a chess set carved from what looked like crystal. Everything was white or black or some shade in between.

Maybe it should have felt cold, but there was nothing cold about this room, nothing at all. She could feel the warmth of it seeping in from the soles of her feet all the way up through her body. It was amazing, beautiful.

And it made her even more aware of how wet and filthy her shoes were, how stained her jeans and overcoat were. How she could never sit on that white sofa because she was bound to leave a mark. She would stain everything . . .

Mia froze, not wanting to move, not even one step.

This wasn’t anything like the dirty, run-down apartment she’d lived in once with her grandmother, before the old bitch had beaten her one too many times and she’d had to leave. And it certainly didn’t have the comforting—if cold—familiarity of her place behind the Dumpster in the alley.

She shouldn’t be here; she didn’t belong here.

But then Xavier was moving past her, shrugging out of his overcoat and throwing it carelessly over the back of the sofa. “Welcome to chez de Santis,” he said casually. “Mi casa is your casa, etcetera. Okay, so, quickie tour. Over there are the controls for the lights and the air con.” He pointed at some spot on the wall she couldn’t even see. “Over here’s where you can control music for whichever part of the house want to be in. TV controls are part of that too.” He flashed her a brilliant smile, his blue eyes electric in the warm light of the room. The humming energy around him seemed to increase, his movements fluid and decisive as he undid the buttons on his suit jacket and shrugged that off too, leaving it on top of the overcoat. “You need food, ASAP.” He began undoing the cufflinks on his business shirt, tossing them onto a nearby table, not seeming to notice that one of them bounced off it and onto the floor. “Now, I haven’t been home for a few days, so I’m not sure what food we’ve got, but if we’re very lucky, Mrs. Thomas will have done her thing and left a little something for me in the fridge.” He began rolling up his sleeves with the same decisive movements, exposing tanned, muscular forearms. “She visits this little deli around the corner that does lots of gourmet shit, but also has the best mac and cheese ever.”

Clearly not expecting a response, he turned and strode down the hallway on her left, talking as he went. “Down here’s the kitchen, and that door there leads to the bedrooms and the bathrooms. You can choose whichever one you want, doesn’t worry me.”

She stared after him, frozen in place, shaking. Overwhelmed.

Come on. Get yourself the fuck together. You survived on the streets, you can survive here. Now go get that food.

Mia sucked in a breath. Yeah, God, she wasn’t going to let one rich dude and his apartment in the sky get to her. No way. She had to ignore the feelings of shame just like she ignored the fear when she was out on the streets. Shame and fear were not going to get her what she wanted. Doing stuff, surviving, would. And the first step to surviving was eating some goddamn food.

Forcing herself to move, she made herself put one foot in front of the other, following the sound of his deep voice down the hallway. Deliberately she didn’t look around, not ready to take anything more in quite yet.

The hallway wasn’t long, leading out into another massive room with yet more windows and yet another view incredible New York view. Part of her registered it and wanted to go press herself against the glass, see what the city looked like from up here in the sky rather than from her usual viewpoint on the ground. But she didn’t. Instead she found herself blinking at a massive kitchen, all shiny with stainless steel and pristine white marble.