The Billionaire's Virgin(36)

“I can’t wear that dress,” Mia felt compelled to point out. “It’s not very practical.”

“Well, no, of course not. Which is why I was going to show you—”

“I can’t wear any of those dresses,” Mia cut her off. Suddenly she didn’t want the woman here. There was something about her that Mia didn’t like and she wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe it was the smoothness of her hair or the perfectness of her makeup. Whatever it was, it annoyed her.

Xavier strolled over to the couch, without even glancing at the woman. He’d left early that morning—where he went, she hadn’t asked—and she hadn’t seen him since the night before. He had a curiously intent look in his blue eyes and it made her uncomfortable.

Are you sure that’s discomfort you’re feeling?

Of course it was discomfort. What else would it be?

How long are you planning on lying to yourself?

Mia shoved the thought away as Xavier said, deceptively mild, “Sure, you can wear those dresses. You’d look beautiful in them.”

She decided not to reply. They’d had this argument before.

He stopped by the arm of the couch, looking down at her, and she could see by the glitter in his eyes that he was not happy with her.

Too bad.

“We’ll take all of them,” he said, not taking his eyes off her. “Including the lingerie.”

“Mr. de Santis,” the woman began.

“I said all of them.” He didn’t turn. “I’ll be in touch later about delivery. Now get out of here.”

The woman didn’t say another word and five minutes later, both she and the rail of clothes had gone.

Mia stared at him. “You weren’t very nice.”

“Like I give a shit.” He’d began rolling up sleeves of his shirt and for some reason she couldn’t take her eyes off the lean strength of his forearms. “You don’t like the clothes? Or are we going to have another argument about you refusing to accept anything I give you?”

“You’re not giving them to me. You’re forcing me to have them.”

He made a dismissive sound. “You want them Mia, I know you do. Just like you wanted my knife. You want a lot of things that you’re not letting yourself have. What’s that all about?”

She tore her gaze away from his arms and looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. “You wouldn’t understand.”

He skirted around the arm of the couch then flung himself down beside her, leaning back and stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Try me.”

She didn’t know if she wanted to have this conversation with him. It felt too close to something . . . painful. “I need my clothes back,” she said instead. “I need them.”

“We’ve had this—”

“I can’t stay here,” she cut him off. “I have things I need to do.”

A look of frustration crossed his face. “I told you that you don’t have to go back. You can stay here as long as you like.”

“And how long will that be for?” She stared at him. “I can’t live as a guest in your house forever.”

“Sure you can,” he replied with maddening calm. “I don’t mind.”

“But I do. I want . . .” She stopped, her heart suddenly beating faster, nervousness fluttering inside her. She’d never told anyone what she wanted for herself, it was her own private dream, something that no one would take from her, that was hers. Telling him felt dangerous. Like giving up a piece of herself.

“What do you want?” There was a gentleness in his voice, a warmth that made her want to crawl inside it and wrap it around herself. “You can tell me.”

“It’s going to sound stupid,” she mumbled.

“No, it won’t.” He paused, the look in his deep blue eyes suddenly unreadable. “Nothing you could tell me will sound stupid.”

She didn’t mean to tell him, but it came out anyway, all thick and emotional. “I want . . . a home. I don’t care what it looks like. I just want a place that’s mine. Somewhere that’s safe and warm and I can have all my stuff and I can—” She shut her mouth with a snap, before anything else could spill out.

Xavier didn’t say anything.

She kept her gaze on her hands, her heart thundering in her ears. Stupid, God, so stupid to tell him all that stuff. He wouldn’t understand. He wouldn’t. How could he? This man with all his money in this fancy penthouse apartment and a limo. What would he know of wanting something that was just his?

“I know what it looks like,” he said quietly, after a long moment. “I have everything I want, right? And I do, it’s true. But . . . none of it’s mine. It’s all bought with my father’s money. In fact, everything I have is all bought with my father’s money. It’s all in his name, he retains control of just about everything. I don’t care, I’m kind of careless with stuff so it’s probably a good thing.” He let out a breath. “But . . . there’s one thing of my own I wanted. My Mom’s family ranch out in Wyoming. I just wanted that. And Dad had been holding it over my head for years, getting me to do a whole lot of things for the company. Probably as a punishment now that I think about it, but . . . Anyway, he finally signed over the title to me yesterday.”