Page 26 of A Man of Wealth

When I’m clean, I step out and take a soft, warm fluffy towel off a heated drying rack. “Nice touch,” I murmur to myself wondering if he had thought of it or borrowed the idea from a designer.

Once I’m back in my day-old clothes, I head out to join him. I’m surprised to find he’s also clean.

I look around in confusion and he laughs as he points to the back end of the tiny house. “I have an outdoor shower as well.”

“Oh,” is all I manage to say.

He looks at my clothes. “Sorry, I should have offered you something to change into.”

I raise an eyebrow as I survey him from top to bottom. “I hardly think your clothing would fit me.”

“I guess now is a bad time to inform you that if we were at my penthouse, I’d have clothing in your size?” he says with a smirk.

My mouth falls open because I assume he means his harem of one-night stands has left clothing there.

His smirk only gets broader as I try to process this information.

“Being a male whore is hardly something to be proud of,” I scoff.

His eyes twinkle with mirth.

“What?” I throw my hands up in the air.

“No, please, continue,” he says, motioning with his hand for me to keep talking. I narrow my eyes. Shit. What is he not saying? I hate that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this man is about to one-up me.

I put my hands on my hips. “Fine, why do you have women’s clothing at your penthouse?”

He leans down and gives me a sweet smile. “Because as a ‘male whore,’ I like my lady friends to have a change of clothing for when they unexpectedly spend the night. So, I keep workout clothes in a variety of sizes for my lady friends.”

“Oh,” I reply because that wasn’t exactly the answer that I anticipated.

“But…uh,” He runs a hand through his hair as he looks around. “I don’t keep clothing here because…” He pauses with his hand still in his hair.

“Because?” I urge.

“You’re the only woman I’ve brought out here.”

I wave my hands at our surroundings. “To your tiny house?”

“Nope, to this property,” he corrects. I feel my mouth open in a surprised “O” as I stare up at him. “Women have been here for parties, but not for…” He trails off and I swear the man is blushing, but he’s dimmed the lights in here and it’s hard to tell.

I roll my eyes. “Well, in either case, I have on clothes. I should probably head home.”

My phone pings in my pocket and I pull it out, surprised to see a text from none other than Jared Pallin.

Jared: How about a dinner meeting tomorrow?

I can tell by how his body tenses that Conner has read the message, too.

I begin to type a reply of “yes” when Conner grabs my phone.

“What the hell?”

“I don’t like the idea of you going to meet him alone,” he states as he holds my phone out of my reach.

I groan. “First, this is my job. Do you seriously think I can’t take care of myself? And two, how else am I going to get this information? We”—I motion between us—“need me to meet with him.”

“I. Don’t. Like. It,” he states as his jaw clenches.

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