Without lingering to listen to us argue, the server takes off again.
I glare at Lila, my pride stinging. “I’ll pay you back.” My hands shake as I drag my glass toward me. “I’m not a charity case.”
“You’re not charity; you’re my girl.” Lila’s voice softens. “Show him you’re not done. Show yourself.”
Houston hums around us—cars on Westheimer, laughter from the bar, the sticky heat pressing in. I want to believe her. I want to walk into that penthouse and face Xavier Blackwell without becoming a molten, emotional mess. But his hands, his voice… I’m not sure I can survive him.
But I have to go back. I need the job.
I exhale. What the hell does he want from me? And why does part of me want to find out?
“What do you think you’re going to do?”
“I don’t know.” My voice is barely audible above the jukebox.
Do I have any choice but to walk into the fire?
The fire he lit.
Chapter Three
Seraphina
The elevator hums, carrying me too quickly up to Blackheart’s penthouse. Each floor speeds past, a countdown to humiliation rather than salvation.
The maid’s uniform clings to me, its starched collar biting my neck.
My sneakers—my one rebellion—scuff the polished floor as I step out at 6:59 a.m.
I knock. Then wait.
There’s no answer.
Of course.
He won’t make this easy, will he?
Maybe he’s not even in there. Or maybe he’s sleeping like the smug bastard he is. Closing my eyes, wishing I were anywhere else, I use my key to let myself into the demon’s domain.
Inside, the blinds are open, and sunlight pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The penthouse smells of fresh-ground coffee, and God, do I need a cup. I barely slept, and then because I was worn out, I hit the snooze button so many times that I barely had enough time to get across town and clock in.
“Hello?” When there’s no answer, I take a couple of steps, the furnishings and modern art pieces all whispering of wealth that seems to taunt my bank balance that’s now at $12.47. Thank God I have a full tank of gas. That will get me to work for the next few days and allow me to make my food and coffee deliveries after hours.
A little cautiously, I move forward. After all, I don’t want to catch Blackheart in the shower or getting dressed. I’m not sure I could survive seeing him naked. “Mr. Blackwell?”
I wait.
Lila’s words from last night echo in my mind. “Show him you’re not that intern he broke.” But after everything that happened last time I saw him, I’m not sure I can.
Slowly I make my way to the kitchen, and he’s there, leaning against the marble counter, his tailored suit sharp against the morning light.
Bastard makes a show of checking his very expensive Bonds watch. “It’s two minutes after the hour.”
I bite back my reply. Do all billionaires think they own the entire world and everyone in it?
He rakes his dark eyes over me, slowly and deliberately, lingering on the swell of my chest and tracing the curve of my hips.