“Mr. Hartford has instructed me to show you to the elevator that will take you to his penthouse loft,” the driver said once she was standing beside him. He turned and started walking toward the lone elevator straight ahead, and she followed behind. The light click-clack of her heels on the pavement was loud and echoed off the concrete walls.
The vehicles in the garage ranged from BMWs to Mercedes, Range Rovers, and Porsches. There were others mixed in, ones that looked sporty and expensive, and probably cost more than she’d ever make in a lifetime.
Sorcha watched as the driver pressed the intercom by the gleaming silver elevator, and then took a step back. This whole set-up was insane, and like nothing she had ever seen before, but then again she had never seen so much money openly flaunted, not until she had come to work for Rian. The intercom clicked on, but there was no voice on the other end.
“Miss Case is here, sir,” the driver said, to Rian she assumed. And then after what felt like long, dragging minutes of silence, Rian finally spoke.
“Send her up.” As if he had conjured the elevator right then and there, the door opened and she was staring at her reflection. The interior of the elevator was just as posh as what she would have assumed. Wood trim, stainless steel accents, and glass on all three walls.
“Miss Case,” the driver said and held his arm out, gesturing for her to enter.
She was scared, but she didn’t know exactly of what. But Sorcha took those few steps, entered the small glass, metal, and wood enclosure, and then faced the driver. He was already walking away from her as the doors slowly shut, and then she was looking at herself in the polished metal. Her heart beat fast and wild, nearly ripping right out of her chest from the force of it.
Reaching out and holding onto the bar to steady herself as the elevator ascended, she closed her eyes, said a prayer that she was doing the right thing, and then slowly opened them again when she felt the elevator come to a stop. The door opened slowly, and there standing on the other side was Rian. He wore a plain black t-shirt, a pair of distressed looking jeans, and no shoes or socks. He looked so strange, even more so than when she had seen him dressed-down at the office that Saturday that her entire world changed.
His black hair was in a disarray of short strands around his head, and he showed no emotion on his face. Right then he looked very much the powerful and indifferent businessman she had come to loathe for the last six months, even when he wore jeans and a tee.
“Sorcha.” He said her name smoothly and evenly, and it reminded her of melted chocolate as it rolled off of his tongue and caressed her. He held a champagne flute with bubbly yellow liquid in it. She also made out a strawberry at the bottom of the glass. Taking that first step into his home took more strength than she thought possible. The door closed behind her. Sealing her in and having her at the mercy of this very dangerous, yet alluring man.
12
He watched her step off that elevator, her expression one that was mixed with fear of the unknown, but excitement for the prospect and possibilities. Rian would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see her afraid, because she would have been a blind fool if she hadn’t been.
“Here, let me take that,” he said to her once she was within arm’s reach. He reached for her bag without waiting for a response, and gave her the glass of champagne. “I figured you’d need something to help you relax.”
“And alcohol was your first choice,” she stated while staring right at him.
“No, not my first, but I thought you’d appreciate the drink instead of what I’d like to do to help us both relax instead.” He let those words hang in the air between them, and showed that he hadn’t been trying to amuse her with his answer. What he wanted to do was throw her on the bed and fuck her until they both couldn’t move, but he wasn’t some kind of beast that couldn’t control his basic urges. At least not the majority of the time.
She didn’t respond, but instead took a long drink from her glass. She was nervous, and rightfully so, but she’d warm up to all of this soon enough. How far would Sorcha let him go? Even though she had signed the contract, she would most likely still be hesitant. How far would he let himself go with her?
“I’ve had a meal prepared for us, so come with me and I’ll show you where to keep your things, and then we can eat.” Again, he didn’t wait for her to respond, because she really didn’t have a choice. She’d signed the contract, willingly agreed to be his for this week, and he wasn’t going to sugarcoat anything that happened from this point on. He could be a gentle, understanding man, but deep down that really wasn’t who he was. He felt her near, knew she was following behind him, and led them into the master suite. Rian took a step to the side, and allowed her entrance into the room she would be sleeping in for the next seven days.