The thief’s arm tightens around my waist, and suddenly I feel a snap of tension through my body. My heart leaps, and I look up to see him holding on to the frame of the skylight with one hand, holding me in the other. Far below, I hear the clatter of his briefcase, with whatever painting he stole tonight, clatter to the floor.
“You trying to get us killed!?” he snaps, his voice strained. “Climb up me.”
“I—”
“Don’t argue. Do it now before my grip gives out!”
His voice is strong, Spartan—like a king commanding his servants. I have no choice but to obey. It may defy the laws of physics, but I try to make myself as light as possible as I scale him like a cat climbing a tree. I reach out and grab the frame and try to pull myself up onto the roof.
Then I remember that I can’t even do a pull-up.
Why oh why can’t girls have more upper body strength?
I feel a strong hand on my right butt cheek and I’m suddenly thrust over the edge and onto the roof. Out of pure instinct, I turn around to help the mysterious man up, but he hoists himself through the skylight with ease and is instantly on his feet looking down at me.
“You know, if you weren’t so goddamn gorgeous I’d be furious,” he says, his voice firm and in control. He’s not even fazed about the near-death situation we just survived. “That was a Picasso you made me lose.”
As the cool evening breeze blows, I look up at his undeniably gorgeous face and feel a flicker of recognition. His eyes, piercing and dominant, the strong chin and high cheekbones. The way he’s standing, like a man who is used to being obeyed. And then it clicks.
“I know you!” I gasp. “You’re Zander Duke, the billionaire!”
He sighs and shakes his head as though he was still hoping I wouldn’t recognize him. That would of course be impossible. Zander’s face has been plastered all over every media outlet in the world lately, as he has become the world’s first 250-billion-dollar man.
“What are you doing stealing paintings? Couldn’t you just buy that Picasso? Or every Picasso?”
A smile comes across his face. He finds me funny. “I could, but where’s the fun in that?”
“You can let me go…” I whisper. “I won’t tell anybody.”
“No,” he replies as he coils his rope and stuffs it into a bag on his waist. “You will, and even if I did believe you, there’s no way I can let a beauty like you out of my sight.”
Zander Duke, the genius, billionaire, playboy—a real life Iron Man whose fortune puts Elon Musk to shame, just called me a real beauty...
Somehow that’s even more unbelievable than what just happened.
I slowly get to my feet, expecting him to throw his arms around me again to keep me from running, but he doesn’t. And then I realize why. We’re on the roof. Where am I supposed to go?
Swallowing nervously, I look at him and wait. Everyone knows how handsome Zander is; it’s practically the only thing they talk about when discussing him. That and his string of exes—mostly models and celebrities. But seeing him in person is a whole different story. He’s well over six feet, frighteningly strong…and his presence. Overwhelming.
“You know my name,” he says. “Now tell me yours.”
I hesitate, but Zander shakes his head.
“Tell me now or I find out later.”
“Amory,” I reply.
“Amory,” he muses as though he’s tasting my name on his tongue. “I’ve never met an Amory before. Do you know what it means?”
My cheeks blush and I lower my eyes. “It means…home ruler.”
Zander’s laugh echoes through the night sky. “Perfect. You can rule my home after you have my babies.”
“Wh—what!?” I stammer. But there’s no time to talk. Zander snatches my hand and pulls me across the roof to a ladder. He goes down first. Having no other choice, I follow. When we reach the street, he takes me by the wrist and leads me down a few alleys to a parked black sedan. It chirps and he nods for me to get in.
“It’s easier if you do it yourself.”
I know he’s right, so I do what I say. He’s strong and athletic; there’s no way I could outrun him. Even if I wanted to, which I’m not sure I do at this point. We pull away from the Met, and I feel his eyes on me. He’s not even attempting to hide it.
“What’s a girl like you doing pushing a mop at a museum?” he asks. “A body like that, you should be in front of a camera, or be claimed by some rich man.”
“Or maybe kidnapped by one?”
“Sweetie, I can’t let you go now, can I?” he replies. “Not now that you know my identity.”
“So what’s the plan?” I ask. “Take me back to your lair and have your way with me?”
Zander laughs. “First of all…lair? Lairs are for vampires and werewolves, not billionaires. Second of all, I don’t have my way with women.”
“Oh, no? I thought you were a playboy.”
“I don’t force women to do anything with me, cutie,” he replies. “That’s not my style.”
It might not be his style, but it’s easy to see what’s on his mind. One look at his eyes and I can see what he’s thinking: sex. With me. That doesn’t exactly do much to calm my nerves as I stare back at the world’s most notorious, gorgeous billionaire. What it does do is send a tingling sensation through my body…
“Good,” I reply. “You wouldn’t enjoy it anyway.”
“Wouldn’t enjoy what?” he asks as he reaches over and unzips my overalls down to my belly button. I’m only wearing a sports bra underneath and feel suddenly vulnerable. “That beautiful body of yours? You really have no idea how sexy you are, do you?”
My cheeks tingle like I’ve been pricked by hot porcupine quills. I can’t handle this. “I’m not sexy, but that’s not why I say it. I say it because…”
My voice trails off. I’m on fire. My cheeks are roasting. And now I’m picturing it—Zander with his hands all over me, on top of me, taking me in every way imaginable. God, I hope he can’t see how awkward I am.
“Because you’re a virgin.”
I cringe. Is it that obvious? I glance up at him for a second, which is all I can bear, expecting to see grim disappointment in his eyes, but instead, I see fire.
“I—I’m sure I’d be such a disappointment—”
“You’re crazy, girl.” Zander grins. I’m looking down again but feel his commanding stare. How is he driving with all his attention on me? His fingers find the zipper of my coveralls again and slowly move it down. Each click causes my heart to shake, and he doesn’t stop until the top of my panties is exposed. The warm tingling inside me increases tenfold.
“I have everything, sweetie,” he whispers as he hooks his middle finger inside my lapel and gently tugs, revealing more of my body to him. My core tightens as his touch grazes the skin of my stomach. He traces a line down to my hip bone. It’s almost more than I can bear. “And what I don’t have, I take. Like that painting tonight. I could take you too, gorgeous. Make you mine.”