She didn’t drink. That didn’t bother Xan at all because he had had the experience of several women who liked to drink a little too much and turned into public embarrassments. An alcoholic in the family, he recalled; naturally she was careful. He ordered wine for himself and ordered meals for both of them, as was his habit with companions.
Elvi sipped her water and watched food selections she hadn’t ordered brought to the table with great pomp and ceremony. She wasn’t that surprised by his failure to offer her a personal choice or a menu. He was a control freak. He was accustomed to commanding what other people did, even, it seemed, what they ate. He would probably be hell in bed, she found herself thinking ruefully, imagining what that innate selfishness would translate to in terms of sex with another person. But then what did she know about it? Maybe that was the norm for a rich man like him. A woman of her status was simply a new toy for him to play with, nothing more.
Elvi cleared her throat awkwardly. ‘So, this arrangement...how long would it last exactly?’
‘Three months,’ Xan heard himself declare, although he had never before mentioned anything longer than two. He was being practical, he told himself, ensuring he could keep her until he got bored, and he could get bored the very first month, couldn’t he? That had happened on a couple of occasions and could well happen with her.
Elvi studiously stared down at her water. ‘And how often...er, would I...see you?’
‘I doubt if there’s a virile man in the world who would answer that question in advance,’ Xan quipped, amusement flashing through him as he wondered how many one-night stands she had enjoyed. At her age, that was the norm, wasn’t it? Or was it? He had no idea because he had never made use of that kind of freedom, reluctant to follow in the footsteps of a father who had been a notorious womaniser and playboy. He had never slept around, never been attracted by indiscriminate casual sex with strangers.
Elvi reddened, heat coursing through her as she met brilliant dark eyes alive with the kind of powerhouse energy he had kept in abeyance during that interview in his office. Stupid question, she conceded uneasily, insanely aware of the tightening of her nipples and the bizarre flush of warmth rising from her pelvis. Both sensations were unhappily familiar, echoes of what she had felt every time she’d seen Xan walk past her months earlier. She hadn’t known attraction could make her feel like that about a man and she hadn’t appreciated the yearning sense of vulnerability it infused her with.
‘I will provide you with an apartment and a new wardrobe. You need clothes,’ Xan intoned with a casualness that shot her straight back out of her reverie.
An apartment. Elvi swallowed hard, reminding herself that it would only be for a few months and that she could hardly act the mistress while sharing a bedroom with her adoptive mother.
‘Why do I need you to buy me clothes?’ she queried rather sourly.
‘When I need a partner to attend a social engagement, you will be my companion,’ Xan informed her, startling her afresh because she had assumed that being a mistress was a very discreet role in a back room some place where she would be hidden from public view.
‘Not sure I would be up to that challenge,’ Elvi admitted ruefully. ‘You live in a very exclusive world.’
‘You would merely be on my arm,’ Xan told her as if she were a man bag. ‘You wouldn’t even need to speak. I would handle conversation—’
‘Like you handled ordering my meal for me?’ Elvi gently nudged her untouched plate away another few inches. ‘If you had asked, I would’ve told you that I don’t eat fish—’
‘Fish is healthy,’ Xan informed her smoothly.
‘But you’re not my doctor or my dietician and I am not so stupid that I require your guidance. I hate fish,’ Elvi spelled out with emphatic cool.
Xan shrugged a broad shoulder, impervious to her reproof. ‘So, order something else.’
‘I’m really not hungry,’ Elvi told him truthfully. ‘As I said in my text, I’m only here to hear the conditions.’
‘Of servitude,’ Xan reminded her silkily. ‘I like that word. It has a lovely medieval ring to it.’ He removed something from an inside pocket and set it down beside her hand: it was a key with a label attached. ‘The apartment key and the address. Do you require assistance to move in?’
‘How soon will you withdraw the theft charge?’ Elvi pressed anxiously. ‘And no, no assistance required. I don’t have much stuff.’
‘The day you move in, the charge will be withdrawn,’ Xan supplied. ‘I will not do anything before that. You could still back out—’
Elvi tensed. ‘And if I gave you my word of honour that I wouldn’t?’
A cool smile curved his wide sensual lips. ‘I wouldn’t trust it. Women can be unpredictable—’
‘As can men.’ Elvi grasped the apartment key as though it were a stinging nettle and thrust it hurriedly into her bag. ‘I’ll move in tomorrow. What about my job?’
‘You quit. When I want you, I naturally want you to be available,’ Xan pointed out smoothly.
‘I’ll need to work a notice period,’ she protested.
‘No, you simply leave,’ Xan contradicted arrogantly. ‘From this moment on, you’re my responsibility—’
Elvi froze as if he had struck her. ‘Servitude is biting right now,’ she conceded between gritted teeth. ‘I don’t like depending on anyone outside my family.’
‘But now and first and foremost, you’ve got me and my demands to consider. I will deliver if you do,’ Xan completed levelly. ‘I will treat you like a princess.’
Yes, once upon a time, princesses had had to get into bed with strangers as well, Elvi thought mutinously, although at least they had been married off first. Not that she wanted to be married to him, which would probably be even worse than being owned by him, because that was how he was making her feel. Like a new possession, a thing, an object, rather than a person.
‘I’m really not going to be very suitable for purpose,’ she warned him tightly.
‘Then you’ve been with the wrong men,’ Xan assured her with unblemished confidence, his flawless cheekbones slashing taut to accentuate the brilliance of his stunning brown eyes and their black lashes.
* * *
Her face burning at that recollection, Elvi climbed into bed in the dark, striving not to wake her mother up.
‘Elvi...?’ the older woman whispered. ‘Did you have a nice evening?’
Remembering her fib about having a date, Elvi grimaced. ‘Yes.’ She hesitated and then pressed ahead. ‘I’ve been thinking of moving out and in with a...er...a flatmate,’ she selected the final word abruptly.
Silence greeted her from her mother’s direction and she wasn’t surprised because she knew that her sudden announcement would shock Sally. Even more, though, did Elvi hate the necessity of telling lies because she knew that she could not possibly tell the truth.
‘Anyone I know?’ Sally prompted.
‘No. A friend of Joel’s but if I want to move in I have to move in tomorrow,’ Elvi completed. ‘I’m sorry it’s such short notice—’
‘No, don’t apologise. You’re twenty-two, Elvi, and naturally you would like some independence and freedom. I had those things at your age—why