Even though the walls were cathedral-like, the air in the room seemed in short supply. Richard had dropped her off with her luggage at Boston’s home — was home the right word for the massive structure? — and quickly deposited her into Boston’s bedroom suite, which, honestly, looked like a small apartment, complete with a kitchenette.
“Boston wants you to wait for him here. Do not wander. The house is very large and you’re likely to get lost. Stay put. You can watch television or read. There is a full library attached to the bedroom, through that door.”
At the mention of the library, Julianna recalled Boston’s admission that the last time he’d been in there, he’d been having sex, not reading and she tried to push the image away. “Thanks,” she murmured, caught by the insane desire to beg Richard to stay and keep her company even though the older man was hardly the companionable type. She watched Richard leave and then once she was closed into the room, she suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to run back from where she came. Screw this. But then Tom came to mind, lying helpless in that stupid, awful bed, wasting away from depression as much as his injury and she knew she would do whatever it took to get Tom the help he needed.
Well, one thing was for certain, Boston Kincaid believed in surrounding himself with the finer things in life. She wasn’t well-versed in priceless art but she was going to wager a guess that the stuff on the walls weren’t Wal-Mart specials. Not exactly her cup of tea, though. As beautiful as everything was, there was an impersonal nature to it all. Honestly, not a single personal photograph? Her small apartment was crammed with candid pictures and fun mementos of good times with friends. It struck her as very sad until she realized what was happening and she rebelled. No, she refused to feel bad for the “poor rich boy.” He was the enemy.
The enemy who was about to take her virginity, a small voice reminded her and she shivered.
He wasn’t ugly, not that she was particularly swayed by looks, but he definitely had genetics on his side. She wandered to the bathroom and her eyes widened at the opulence. Egad. Surely that wasn’t gold on the toilet? She hoped not. There was something wrong with a gold-plated toilet. Did he wipe his butt with dollar bills, too? She made a small sound of disgust and left the bathroom, knowing for certain she hoped a different bathroom was designated for her — one with a normal porcelain commode — but she had a sinking feeling that Boston was going to want her in this room with him. Like playing a really messed up game of house.
The spa experience, at the very least, had been nice, up until it came time to wax her pubic area. Holy hell, now she knew why she’d never done that before. Talk about pain. But now, as instructed, she had a nearly bald pubic area, except for the “landing strip” as Boston had called it. Even though she’d never done the deed, she wasn’t exactly naïve about sex. She’d fooled around with boyfriends but she’d wanted to save that one part of herself for the man she married. Right about now she was feeling pretty stupid for that decision because she’d basically sold her virginity to a man she was fairly certain she despised. Julianna covered her face with her hands and fought the sudden wash of tears that sprang to her eyes for her situation. Okay, get a grip. Let’s get down to brass tacks…even though she was losing something precious, she was gaining something, too. As much as she hated to give Boston credit for anything, he did have a point. How many women gave away their virginity for so much less?
True. So, looking at the situation logically, she could assume that a man like Boston Kincaid likely bores easily so after he’s taken what he wants, after a week or so he’ll probably turn her loose and she’ll walk away one million dollars richer and Tom will be in New Zealand, getting the care he needs.
It’s all good. Yeah. So, why did she want to throw up?
She’d just gone to the bed to sit and calm down when the door opened and Boston walked in. She must’ve paled for Boston smirked and said, “Now, is that any way to greet the man who just made the impossible possible in your world?”
And then she knew she couldn’t go through with this. No fucking way.
