“How was your trip?” I took her hand and headed into the house, but she turned and looked at her bags which were left by the door. “I’ll have an attendant gather those and bring them up to your room.”
“Oh, thank you. It was fine—the trip. I’ve never flown before. Actually, I’ve never left Nebraska before.” She gave a little shrug and glanced around as we walked down a long hall and into the great room. Her eyes widened. “This place is so big. It’s a real castle.”
I chuckled softly and nodded. “Yes, it’s a real castle, and while I’ll show you most of it, we’ll stay in this tower.”
She nodded, still taken aback by the scale of things. “Right. Tower. And there are others?”
“Four; one for each corner.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not like a prince or something?”
“No. I’m a billionaire. I own a few businesses, but if I were to tell you which ones, I’d have to kill you,” I teased, trying to break the tension.
She rolled her eyes gave a reluctant laugh.
“Ah, right. Anonymity.” She folded her arms across her front.
“Come, let’s get you something to drink and make you comfortable. I know it’s late, but I’d like to talk a minute. Give you time to acclimate.”
“That would be nice, thank you.”
I took her hand and led her to the bar area on the far wall and poured her a drink. She started to take a seat on the nearest barstool, but I took her hand. “I think there are more comfortable places here.” I led her to my den where the furnishings were less formal.
One of the first things I’d done to personalize my castle home was order four custom-built black leather sofas. I placed them in the room in a square formation, and they were comfortable to lounge on and the perfect place to get more acquainted.
“Have a seat.”
She lowered herself onto the leather and smiled. “This is amazing. I could sleep right here.”
“You’ll have a bed that’s twice as amazing as this. You’ll see. But first, I wanted to talk to you about the contract and answer any questions you have. I like to get this out of the way to avoid any confusion.” I also didn’t like the ugly talk of arrangements screwing up the mood once we got started.
“I believe I understood it just fine. Everything will be at your whim and in your control for the next two weeks. I’ll have no say.” She made a face as if that part wasn’t to her liking.
“I think you’ll be surprised at how much control you’ll have. You’ll influence every decision I make. I’m not a monster, Carrie. I want this to be fun for you.”
She seemed to mull that over for a moment. “I haven’t had much fun lately. My father’s sick. He’s got to have surgery, and since we’re broke, I’m hoping to use the money so he can get it.”
I had lost my own father a few years ago to a heart attack. He’d been a tyrant who had made most of my life miserable to make is fortune. Though we hadn’t been close, it had still been painful to lose him. Carrie’s face softened when she spoke of her father, and I imagined that seeing him in failing health was excruciating for her. I wanted to make her forget all about that for a while.
“I’m sorry to hear that your father is so sick,” I said, to which she shrugged. Deciding to change the subject to more pleasant things, I cleared my throat. “When you do get a chance, what do you like to do for fun?”
“I used to paint; acrylic mostly, but sometimes I’d work with oils. My father used them. He loved the textures. I thought they were too messy and took too long to dry. I prefer faster results, I guess,” she answered.
“Impatient?” I’d have fun with that. She’d get a good lesson in patience while she was here with me.
“I suppose. But I love creating, and I have so many ideas that I do better with smaller projects; ones that give me instant gratification.”
A sly smile played around the corners of my mouth as I thought about gratification and how much of it she’d be getting. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Seeing her in the dress she’d worn, per my dress code, really showed off her curves and her long legs. Her skin was like honey and hair was a pale blond that complemented her bright green eyes. I could feel my dick straining against the fabric of my jeans.
She cleared her throat, and I snapped out of my daze. “Your father is an artist too, then?”
“Yes. He’s really good.”
“I bet you’re good too.” I had a feeling she was going to be good at whatever I threw at her,
“I’m okay, I guess. I was featured at a local art show, and one of my works hangs in the library back home. It’s not much, but other people seem to enjoy it.”