Page 8 of The Protégé

Orion Reimann was a man that emanated power and magnetism. He looked like a contained storm that could unleashits relentless force at any moment. A strong-boned face, high cheekbones, intense gray eyes, and a square jawline stirred something in me. Standing well over six feet tall, he wore a tailored black suit, a cream shirt, and a gray tie that cut him a wealthy man dwelling in a world way out of my reach. A world I didn’t understand and didn’t trust.

He resembled a sleek jaguar, wearing a perfect coat, dominating his terrain with his mere presence. I was prey frozen in place, even though he hadn’t said a word to me. He radiated an air of power that could part the Red Sea.

Earth to Elena!

What the hell was wrong with me? My mind should be on practical matters, not some fantasies that weren’t any help to me right now. I could owe him thousands of dollars I didn’t have.

He ran his fingers over the dents and scratches. My eyes followed the long fingers and the expensive watch that looked more intricate than a Rolex. Orion seemed like a man who liked one-of-a-kind things.

I couldn’t tell if he was angry.

“Sorry about the damages,” I said, wanting to get the ordeal over with. “How much do I owe you?”

He walked up to me, and I was overwhelmed by the raw masculinity he exuded. My nerve endings sizzled from the close proximity. I panicked from the powerful reaction and fell a step back. Normally I held a barrier protecting me from exterior influences because it kept me safe in a bubble so I could do my job. Being a reporter put me close to the powerful and wealthy. Not all of those experiences had been good.

Stress had weakened my barrier today, and I felt Orion’s energy thrum around me. He was a gorgeous man, a danger to women everywhere. What did a man with that kind of power do on a normal day? Did he wake up with a strict agenda, a disciplined diet, three assistants to help with whatever heneeded, and several financial advisors to guide him to earn more than what he already had?

Boring.

I couldn’t live a life based on charts, profit margins, and strict rules that would suffocate me. It would be like me trying to shove my foot into a fancy shoe that didn’t fit.

Though he was out of my league, I could appreciate an attractive man when I saw one. It was healthy to acknowledge what you liked so that things you didn’t like could stay away. What woman wouldn’t be attracted to him? He was on the news a few weeks ago with a pretty woman in his arms. Every time I saw him, he had a new woman beside him.

Men like that were noncommittal. Just like my ex, they liked variety.

“You’re a journalist, correct?” he asked in a baritone voice that made my inner thighs quiver.

“Yes. Why?”

His gaze raked down my body, and embarrassment washed over me. I wore gray capris with dirt stains I hadn’t been able to remove and a T-shirt that read:I can be held, but not touched. What am I?

He stared at my chest, sending all kinds of sensations through my body. “What’s the answer?”

“Huh?”

“The riddle on your shirt.”

“Oh. It’s a grudge.”

“Do you hold grudges?” he asked.

I tried not to, but Chantel had been testing me. “It depends.”

“On what?”

Why was he asking me these weird questions?

“Circumstances.”

“I don’t hold grudges—I just get even.” His gaze intensified. “I have a proposal for you.”

“What?” I thought I heard him wrong. “For what?”

The corner of his lips tilted. “What else? The damage to my car.”

Why couldn’t I think clearly?I needed to get this situation resolved so I could get to Uncle Carlos. The last thing I wanted was for him to slap on another late fee. He’d do that without remorse.

“What’s the catch? I’m not interested in fine prints, Mr. Reimann.”

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