Page 11 of The Billionaire's Bargain

She looks up at me, and there's confusion in her eyes, but something else too. Curiosity, maybe. Or the first flickering of desire. I'd give everything I own to know what she's thinking.

"Why?" she asks simply.

Because I've watched you work yourself to exhaustion. Because I've seen the worry in your eyes when you check your phone between tables, no doubt looking for messages about your sick mother. Because your hands shake sometimes when you're tired but you never stop moving. Because I need to possess you so completely that the thought of another day without you makes it hard to breathe.

"Because I want to," is all I say.

Vivienne clears her throat, reminding us of her presence. "Shall we begin, Ms. Clark?"

For the next two hours, I sit in a chair in the corner, pretending to work on my tablet while Alice tries on outfit afteroutfit. Each one is more devastating than the last. A simple white sundress that makes her look like an angel. Tailored trousers that hug her ass in ways that make my mouth water. Silk blouses that drape over her breasts, hinting at the softness beneath.

I've built empires. Crushed competitors. Multiplied my inheritance a hundred times over. And yet nothing has required more self-control than sitting here, watching Alice transform before my eyes, without touching her.

When Vivienne holds up a sapphire blue dress—short, with thin straps and a neckline that dips just low enough to be tantalizing without being vulgar—I know immediately it's the one for tonight.

"Try that one," I say, the first direction I've given during the session.

Alice takes it, disappearing behind the dressing screen. When she emerges, I have to adjust myself beneath my tablet. The dress clings to every curve, highlighting the delicate slope of her shoulders, the fullness of her breasts, the narrowness of her waist. She looks uncertain, smoothing her hands down the fabric.

"Is it too much?" she asks.

"It's perfect," I manage to say, though my throat feels tight. "Wear it to dinner."

After Vivienne leaves, taking with her measurements for additional pieces to be delivered tomorrow, I show Alice to her room. Or rather, the room she thinks will be hers.

"You can rest before dinner," I tell her. "Or explore the grounds if you prefer. I'll have someone come for you at seven."

She hesitates at the doorway, looking smaller somehow despite the expensive new clothes hanging in the closet behind her. "Thank you, Alexander. For all of this."

I reach out, unable to stop myself, and brush a strand of hair from her face. Her breath catches, and I swear I can feel her pulse jump beneath my fingertips.

I force myself to walk away, to give her space. To stick to the plan.

By seven, the balcony is ready. Candles flicker on the table, the ocean stretches out beneath us, and Chef Marco has prepared his signature seafood risotto—a dish worth the outrageous sum I pay him annually. I've changed into a simple black shirt, open at the collar, and dark trousers. Casual but expensive. I want her to see the man beneath the billionaire facade tonight.

When she steps onto the balcony, I nearly drop the wine glass in my hand. The blue dress is even more stunning in the twilight, her hair loose around her shoulders, her lips tinted a soft pink. She's wearing the diamond studs Vivienne included with the outfit—small, tasteful, but unmistakably valuable.

"Alice." Her name falls from my lips like a prayer.

She tucks her hair behind her ear, a nervous gesture I've seen a hundred times at the café. "Is this okay? For dinner?"

"You're beautiful." The words come out raw, honest in a way I hadn't intended. I clear my throat. "Please, sit."

Dinner progresses with a strange, dreamlike quality. The sun sets over the ocean, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. Alice tells me about her mother's illness, the mounting medical bills, her brother's dreams of college. I already know all of it—I've had her thoroughly investigated—but I listen as if hearing it for the first time, captivated by the fierce love in her voice when she speaks of her family.

"You'd do anything for them," I say. It's not a question.

She nods, taking a sip of wine. "They're all I have."

"And what about you, Alice? What do you want for yourself?"

The question seems to surprise her. She blinks, setting down her glass. "I don't think anyone's asked me that in a long time."

Something hot and protective surges through me. "Tell me."

"I used to want to be a teacher," she says after a moment. "Elementary school. I love children. But then Mom got sick, and..." She trails off, shrugging. "Dreams don't pay bills."

"They can," I say quietly. "With the right support."

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