Page 17 of Keeping The Virgin

Chapter 6

After a driver picksus up in a limo and drives us into Manhattan, I don’t push myself on Cage as he makes more calls. I know enough to realize he doesn’t owe me anything personal. The deal we made was only one of many daily transactions he deals in, and it isn’t as if I entered into this arrangement expecting to come out of it with a soul mate.

All I need is the money, and then I can take care of the past that keeps coming back to haunt me.

Get rid of my stubborn problem once and for all…

Even though hurt keeps nudging me, I keep repeating this, even as we’re dropped off in front of Cage’s skyscraper. There, a doorman tips his hat to him and professionally smiles at me as we enter the extravagant lobby with its sleek black floor and a light fixture whose round bulbs shower down from the ceiling in a sparkling show.

After we ride up in the black-tiled and gold-trimmed elevator, Cage brings me to his duplex, which is probably about 10,000 square feet and costs millions of dollars. Even if he is distracted, he efficiently shows me around, and I’m blown away with the Swarovski crystal chandelier in the main room, as well as the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that feature views into the heart of Manhattan. Everything is high-tech: the security system, the entertainment offerings, and even the kitchen where a private chef is on call.

Once again, I’m like a princess in a fairy tale, although based on what happened in the jet, I’m sure my Prince Charming is going to ride off into the sunset all by himself after he gets his ultimate way with me.

But, hey—why should I complain when I’m with a hot billionaire who’s giving me money, amazing orgasms, and the finest luxury amenities that a woman can have? Not too shabby, and I’m going to enjoy it the best I can and not worry so darn much.

And it gets much easier to enjoy once Cage shows me to “my” bedroom.

There’s an oversized cushioned gold headboard for my king-sized bed, which rests on a raised, thickly carpeted platform. Sculpted golden lamp fixtures and tasteful modern paintings decorate the room.

When I peek inside the walk-in closet, I laugh in glee. “Clothes?” I ask.

“They’re all your size,” he says. “My assistant asked the Highest Bidder to provide that information so she could supply you with what you’ll need. I thought you should have something to wear besides what you have in your bag.”

The website did ask for my size, probably just in case their billionaires want to pamper their girls like this. “Thank you for thinking of that.”

I run my fingertips over a gorgeous silk shift that one of his dates in those paparazzi photos might’ve worn. Little, black, and elegant.

I feel Cage standing behind me, and I drop my hand to my side.

“I’d like to choose what you’ll be wearing for the rest of the day, Karini.”

His voice is sandpaper rough, and it scrapes over me, burning my skin. It seems he’s back to paying attention to me now, and I can’t stop myself from imagining him taking the simple dress that I’m currently wearing off of me like more gift wrap.

“Which dress are you thinking of?” I ask softly.

When he walks into the closet, he brushes by me, and I shiver. Did he do that on purpose?

His expression tells me nothing as he peruses the selection on the racks in front of him—nightwear, daywear, an array of shoes. He finally pulls something down on its hanger.

It’s a lovely yet unremarkable filmy shift the color of sea foam. It’s sweet yet elegant.

He moves toward me then rests it against my body, as if to see how I’ll look in it. But I’m only thinking of the slight pressure of the dress as the fabric whispers over me. I never thought having Cage cover me up would make my stomach flip like it’s doing right now.

When he slips a hand around so that his palm rests against my shoulder blade, I hold my breath. And when he guides me toward a full-length mirror, it feels as if I’ve been ignited through and through.

There I am in the reflection, everyday average me, my light brown hair resting on my shoulders, my eyes wide as Cage holds the dress over the front of me. When I meet his gaze in the mirror, my belly joins my stomach in its circus of somersaults.

“This brings out the color of your beautiful eyes,” he murmurs.

I look again, and he’s right—my eyes aren’t just a boring gray anymore; they’ve picked up the blue-green hue of the dress.

Cage’s hand slips down my shoulder blade, and in the mirror I see that he’s lost focus. He’s watching his fingers trail down me as if he’s entranced.

Just as my heart begins to piston in my chest, he stops touching me and hands me the dress, already on his way out the door. “Be ready in ten minutes.”

Ten? Does he think I can put myself through a car wash or something?

But I won’t argue. “We’re going somewhere?”

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