Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 19284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 96(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 96(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
She was real. A woman like her could ground him, maybe even make life tolerable. When she offered that she was a virgin, it really did feel like a Christmas miracle. He’d never been with a virgin as they seemed few and far between in his circles. But the idea fascinated him. She was pure, a new beginning, a light to his darkness.
But how was he supposed to convince her he was there to woo her, to start a flame, and was willing to take things slow? If anything, Adam was a patient man. He was forty-two and knew damn well how to control his libido.
“I didn’t bring you here to fuck you, Alora.”
Her mouth fell agape.
He waved a hand in the air. “As you can see, I’m in desperate need of artwork, something to show a person lives here. I’m also trying to be a good host. Please finish your drink.”
She swallowed hard and reached for the glass on the coffee table. He was surprised when she drank it in one gulp.
“Another?”
She nodded, so he went to get the decanter, refilling both their glasses and leaving it on the coffee table.
“I think you need a very large, custom piece. Several small pictures would look out of place with such long, empty walls.”
“You’re the expert. When can you start?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“The custom art. You’re an artist. Are you not for hire? Obviously I don’t expect you to work for free,” he said. “Name your price.”
She was at a loss for words, sipping at her drink instead. “I paint for fun. You could get much better artists for this project.”
“I want you.”
“And Adam Nelson always gets what he wants, doesn’t he?”
She didn’t sound spiteful, almost flirty. He didn’t know what to make of Alora Harris just yet. The young woman was certainly full of fire.
He downed his drink, stopping himself when he realized he was staring at the swell of her breasts. The alcohol was starting to hit him. He’d had numerous glasses of wine at the party, too. The preparation for the Christmas party was crazy, and he hadn’t even eaten since breakfast, and that had only been an apple and coffee.
His carefully guarded walls began to crumble. “Do you think I’m an asshole?”
“What? No. Why would you ask me that?”
“I probably come across as a cold-hearted bastard. In general, people don’t like me. Don’t worry, I’m not disillusioned. They always want something from me. If I didn’t have billions, I’d be alone. But … I guess I am alone.” He outstretched his arm to use his cold, empty condo as evidence. “Let me tell you a secret, Alora.” Then he whispered, “Money can’t buy love.”
Fuck, was he drunk? No, but he was talking way too freely and couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“Well, being broke doesn’t help, either.” She giggled. “Burt would testify to my pathetic social life.”
He smiled. Adam liked Alora. Really like her.
For the first time in decades, he felt a real connection with a woman. Not because of money, status, or what they could get out of him. It made him realize how shitty his life was. He’d built his empire on top of trauma and pain he tried to bury, but the past always came back to haunt no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.
“Actually, I have another secret. Can you keep a secret, Alora?”
She nodded, tucking some loose blonde waves behind her ear as she leaned over her knees.
“Nobody knows this. You’ll be the only one.”
“Okay…”
“Some people think I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, that I started out with millions. Others hear the stories of me building my business from the ground up. Nobody knows the real truth.”
“You didn’t build the business from scratch?”
“Oh, that I did, but I didn’t have noble beginnings everyone assumes. I have no family. Not a one. Maybe that’s why the holidays get under my skin.”
“What happened to them?”
He took a deep breath. “I was a foster kid. Unwanted. Disposable. I went through over forty homes before I ran off at sixteen. Do that math, that’s a lot of fucking moving. I had a garbage bag to drag my shit from one place to the next. There were no pictures of me on anyone’s fridge. No one worried about me if I stayed out late—”
“Stop,” she whispered. “You don’t have to explain it. I lived it, too, remember?”
He nodded, feeling an unfamiliar wave of emotion threatening to take him down. This wasn’t him at all. He’d made a huge mistake. This was all a mistake. He wanted to go back to not feeling anything, to keeping his worthless history a carefully guarded secret.
Adam set the remainder of his glass down on the coffee table, then ran a hand through his hair. She was probably disgusted with the real him. “I’m sorry for unloading on you. I’m a real Christmas downer.” He winked, hoping to make light of his little breakdown. “I’ll walk you back to the party now if you like.”