His claim to a life of poverty, survival, and mystery appealed to her far more than wearing a Gucci suit and living in a mansion. She leaned against his chest, overwhelmed by all the information.
There was nothing about him, except what he'd spoken of, that raised any red flags indicating she was in danger. If she was honest with herself, she admired how he'd grown up. It was the power that came with success that gave her every reason to stay away from him.
The crack in his personality made him more relatable. It made him vulnerable, which put her at ease.
"I want to begin a relationship with you, Bree. But, I won't start one on lies." He lowered his voice. "There will be times when you'll want to leave me. I'll be too possessive, too hard, and too raw. I'll push boundaries. I'll scare you. There could be times when you even question if I like you."
She laughed out of nervousness. "Really, Serge. Most men use boring pickup lines to sweep me off my feet. You should try offering me the moon instead of those qualities."
"Not trying to entertain you." He picked her up and set her on her feet. "I'm holding back from telling you how it's going to be between us and letting you have a chance to walk out the door against my better judgment."
"Wait." She held up her hand, suddenly cold from the loss of his body next to her. "Have you had this same conversation with other women, and it's worked for you?"
Forgetting the shock of hearing all the information he had thrown at her, she crossed her arms. Jealousy wasn't an issue, or so she told herself. The thought that he had planned all this rubbed her the wrong way. She had slept with him because she liked him, without any thoughts or reasons behind her decision.
To think that he orchestrated everything they'd experienced together sat wrong. In fact, her stomach hurt. She'd sworn off men like him. Seeing him, sleeping with him, and going home with him tonight was a mistake.
"You're the first woman I've tried talking to before anything happened." He leaned against his desk and studied her. "I've hidden that part of myself from every woman I've been with. I would normally disappear for days, lie, and coerce them into believing what I wanted them to believe. All they cared about was what kind of money I could toss their way."
"You did that with me." Tension rolled her shoulders. "You offered to pay my expenses for the shelter."
He shrugged. "It's what I do."
"Who did I have a one-night stand with?" She glared. "Were you trying to play me? Are you still trying?"
He continued looking at her. "You had sex with me. I'm only telling you now because what I want is different than the first time we had sex."
Her breath left her, and she walked toward the door. She didn't want him to treat her like the rest of his women. She whirled around. "Okay, then why tell me the truth? What is there about me that makes you think I'd accept everything without question?"
His gaze softened. She swallowed. Just because he was the sexiest man ever and had her ready to fall into bed with him if he snapped his finger, didn't mean she was the type of woman to enter into any kind of arrangement with him.
She prided herself on being a strong woman. Despite her mother's best intentions or maybe because of them, she rebelled against latching on to someone wealthy and powerful. Instead, she started her own non-profit and kept herself out of the limelight. Serge had no idea who he was messing with.
"Come here," he whispered.
She shook her head. "I can hear you fine from here."
Come here," he lowered his voice.
She scoffed and walked toward him, stopping a foot away. "What?"
With him leaning against the desk, she gazed across the space between them. He placed his feet on either side of her, spreading his legs, and pulled her by the hand closer until she leaned into him.
"Be quiet for a moment," he said.
She sighed. Whatever he planned wouldn't work with her. He'd warned her, and she'd take that warning home with her. She inhaled the slight musk she associated with him. It was so unfair. She'd wanted to sleep with him again. All week, she'd thought of nothing else.
He raised his hand and cupped the back of her head. She stiffened, and her stomach fluttered when he curled his fingers in her hair.
"Please, don't," she said.
Not moving any closer, he used his hand to nudge her forward. She braced her hands on his chest.
"Give a little," he whispered.
Her mouth grew dry at the sexy undertone. "This is stupid."
His left brow lifted, and he brought her closer, until she fell against his chest. She stared at his mouth, not wanting to look him in the eyes. Except, he parted his lips, and she whimpered before she could catch herself. He played unfairly.
