Tristan watched in amusement as she rambled on nervously, finding far too much enjoyment in how endearing it made her.
“I just didn’t realize that I would be going to your home,” she finished, for a second, and then her hand came up to her mouth as if she had just thought of something. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume that this is your home. Is it your home? It’s very beautiful, if it is…”
As she said the last, it was as if the beauty of her surroundings had just really sunk in. She finally trailed off here as the task of taking in her surroundings overpowered her habit to just speak whatever thoughts happened to cross through her mind. Tristan watched as she slowly turned, taking in the expanse of his living room, the panoramic view provided by the floor-to-ceiling windows, the giant dining table, the state of the art kitchen, and finally, making the one hundred and eighty degree turned, she reached to face him again.
He tried not to focus on the pleasure that diffused through him, watching her be so clearly impressed by his living space; it was never something he’d ever thought of before. He’d bought the condo because it was close to his company’s office, because of the features and amenities that it offered, and because of the view. He’d never thought of using it to impress a woman before, he’d never had to. He rarely slept with women who knew him as Tristan Black. He slept with women who knew him as Titian, because it was easier, there was never the question as to whether or not they were there just for his money; as Titian, he knew exactly why they were with him – because he’d asked them to be; he retained the control.
This was different, she knew him as Tristan; she couldn’t know that he was Titian, that was part of the deal. Her portrait couldn’t be associated with the Guild.
“Miss Carter, thank you for coming,” he broke the silence, when her focus finally returned to him.
“I…yes, of course…thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Black,” she managed to respond, biting her lower lip to keep herself from saying anything else.
“If you’d like to have a seat at the table, Miss Carter, I’d like to go over a little bit about this process with you,” Tristan said, firmly.
He was trying to stay decisively in his business-minded persona which meant having to blatantly ignore how his body had responded to her. He’d been uncomfortably hard since she’d crossed the threshold, but thankfully, she’d been so preoccupied with his apartment that she hadn’t noticed.
“Oh, of course, sure,” she responded, eagerly, walking over to the table. He watched as she ran her hand on the top of the wooden table, before pulling out a chair and taking a seat.
“Now, Miss Carter, I know they gave you this contract to look over yesterday, but I would like to go over a few specific points today before I have you sign it,” Tristan continued, taking the seat across the table from her.
She nodded, her bright, green eyes never leaving his, staring at him with an enthusiastic, yet completely innocent and trusting, gaze.
“You can call me Ellie,” she interjected, hesitantly, biting her lip.
If he hadn’t been training his brain for the past twenty-four hours for this, reminding himself over and over again why he was doing this, he would have stopped to second-guess his choice of action, but, as it stood, there was no turning back.
She can’t be trusted, just like her father.
The harsh flare of emotion that accompanied that thought, burned through his gaze, causing her to color again.
“Or, I mean, Elsa is fine, too, if you prefer,” she continued, “Miss Carter just seems so –”
“Ellie,” Tristan interrupted her, using her first name just to stop her from rambling again. At least, that’s what he told himself. “You signed up to model for me. The first sheet here that you need to sign is an NDA; it covers any and everything that goes on during this process as well as any and all information about me. If you violate the NDA, well, let me say just, don’t. Do you understand?”
“Yes, of course. You’re a very important man, I completely understand why you wouldn’t…Sorry, I googled who you were because well, I was curious. I mean, I think that it’s wonderful that you take time away from Black Box for things like this; I’ve always found making time for personal hobbies to be so important, although I’m sure it can’t be easy when you own the largest investment management company in the country…” she trailed off, catching his sharp stare that indicated she didn’t need to tell him who he was or why he needed the NDA, “Sorry, yes, I understand.”
Her blush deepened, her face turning a shade remarkably close to that of her hair; Tristan shifted in his seat to ease his uncomfortable erection that just seemed to get worse every time she decided to unconsciously ramble on.
He couldn’t help the smile that stole to his face when she said she’d googled him. He knew what the Wikipedia page said: “Tristan Black is the founder and CEO of Black Box, the world’s largest investment management company with over $160 billion under its watch.” His group managed an astonishing amount considering most “big” investment companies hovered right around just $15 billion. The best part was that, like Ellie, most people – even most investors didn’t know of him even though his ideas and observations on the market were read by some of the most powerful people in the world. All of it, all of his success came because he chose to think way outside the box; some might say he even shattered the box. In any event, that’s where he’d chosen the name of his company from. Although she now knew just how powerful and influential he was, it appeared to have changed nothing in respect to how she acted around him. That was impressive.
Tristan cleared his throat and moved on with his explanation. “The remainder of the pages is the modeling contract. The points that I want to make sure that you are aware of is that over the course of the next few weeks, you won’t be just modeling. In order for me to do my job, I have to get to know you; I have to get to know everything about you, which means that I will question you, I will push you, and you will respond.” He watched her eyes widen as she swallowed hard when he explained the extent of what she had really auditioned for.
“Everything?” she squeaked out, unsure of how personal the questions could be.
“When was your last period?” he asked - a blatant attempt to show her exactly just how few boundaries there would be when it came to the things that he wanted to know, no matter how uncomfortable.
He had to bite his tongue to prevent the chuckle from escaping him as the shade of her face managed to deepen still; he’d shocked her with the intimacy of his question and his eyes held hers, daring her to answer. It was either answer or leave, that was the gauntlet that he had just thrown.
“Last week,” she replied calmly, her green eyes suddenly as hard as a rock, returning his steely gaze. “Would you like to know how long it was? Or if I prefer tampons or pads?”
He couldn’t stop the laugh that broke free from his lips or the smile that remained on his face at her cheeky response. Maybe he’d stepped a little too far with that question, but she’d given it right back to him and damn, if it didn’t make him crave her even more.
“No, thank you,” he answered with a hint of a laugh.
Damn, his siren had fire.
She’s not yours.
That train of thought put a damper on his attitude, drawing him back to his original task.
“You will be available to me any day, at any hour, over the coming weeks. This is a full-time project and anything and anyone in your life will have to come second to it; for which you will obviously be compensated for.” His eyes narrowed, seeing hers dart down for a split second when he explained that she would be at his beck-and-call for the next coming weeks.
What plans does she have? And with who?
He felt his blood heat at the thought of who she might be spending her time with. It wasn’t jealous; she wasn’t his. He just didn’t have time for delays in the project if she couldn’t be available – of course that was the reason.
“Is that going
to be a problem?” he asked ominously.
“What? No! No, of course not. I’m…umm… in between jobs at the moment so, availability isn’t an issue,” she offered sheepishly, her face unable to hide the fact that there was more to the story there; something else was going on.
He would have plenty of time to find out.
“Good,” he said firmly, “so, let me just paraphrase these again. For the coming weeks, everything about you belongs to me – your feelings, your thoughts, your emotions, your memories, your time, and your body. If I call you at two in the morning because I’m feeling so inspired, you will show up. If I told you to strip down to nothing right now, you would do it. Do you understand?”
Even though he meant for his statement to be blunt and businesslike, to make sure that she understood completely what she was agreeing to, he couldn’t stop the darkly possessive desire that emanated from his stare. This was supposed to be professional; it was supposed to be about revenge, but from the second that the question left his mouth, Tristan held his breath, afraid that it was too much and that she was going to say no and leave, walking out of his life forever. The thought of her leaving left a trail of searing agony through his tensed muscles, concentrating around his heart.
He barely knew this gorgeous and awkward siren sitting in front of him, and yet the thought of not being able to get to know her further was torture.
In those moments of silence that felt like hours, the thought of vengeance left him; all thoughts left him except one: Please, stay.
She was gnawing on her lower lip, her eyes staring blankly at the contract in front of her, even though she, clearly, was not reading it. Tristan watched as her mind worked, processing what he had just said; her face unable to conceal the emotions that she was experiencing: uncertainty, fear, intrigue, and a flicker of desire.
When Tristan perceived the last, he was on the verge of reaching across the table, ripping up the contract, and showing her just how enjoyable belonging to him was, when her eyes darted up to meet his in determination.
“I understand,” she replied unwaveringly, even though the concern in her eyes betrayed her.
He nodded briefly. The relief that coursed through him was so staggering that he almost felt lightheaded. Now that he had knew he had won the first battle, he told himself it was only from the anxiety that without her, he wouldn’t be able to get his mother’s portrait back; that was the only thing important here – not her.
“I’ll give you a few minutes so you can read through the rest of the details in the contract and then sign and date at the end. If you have any further questions, just ask,” Tristan instructed, standing up from his chair and walking into the kitchen to get a glass of water.
From behind the safety of the kitchen counter, he drank down the glass of ice water, trying to cool the heat burning through him. The mix of desire for her and anxious anticipation for what she would say, had put his entire body on edge, and he needed to cool down if he was going to stay focused on his target. A target, that he kept undressing with his eyes.
Why did Jack Carter’s daughter have to be so mesmerizing?
His stare intensified on her just as she clicked on the pen to sign her name.
And seal her fate.
Chapter 5
God, her mouth felt like sandpaper right now, and she knew it wasn’t from the medication. Her hand shook as she scribbled her name on the signature line, hoping that he couldn’t see her trembles from where he stood watching her ominously from his kitchen. Ellie shifted nervously in her seat, legs crossing, trying to ease the ache that had formed between her thighs.
She’d never felt like this before. Then again, she’d never done anything like this before – maybe it was normal.
What was she thinking? Agreeing to all of this?
She may be awkward, but she wasn’t an idiot and she wasn’t blind; the man was beyond gorgeous. It was no wonder the other women at the audition were throwing themselves at him, willing to do anything to get the job. Hell, if she had thought that she could accomplish it seductively, she would have probably done the same thing.
Ok, maybe not quite…
But, she saw the way that he had looked at all of them, especially the ones who seemed willing. He wasn’t surprised by their actions, in fact, he seemed like it was normal for women to fall all over themselves for him. Sure, they wanted the job, they wanted to model for the piece, but there was more – they also wanted him and the chance to seduce or be seduced by him; any fool could see that.
The old Elsa would have been shocked; she would have walked right out of that studio the second that Tristan Black almost made out with the first model. Or was it the second? Or how about when he’d leaned in and whispered in her ear, the suggestiveness with which he said she would get to know him, sending a shiver all the way down her spine, the sensation pooling between her legs. The old Elsa would have never wanted to be considered for whatever this job is, but she wasn’t the old Elsa anymore.
There were plenty of times when the old Elsa tried to break through, tried to stop her from the path that she was on – like when she got out of the cab as pulled up to a hotel this morning or when the elevator took her up to Tristan’s apartment.
Or when he told her that she would belong to him for the next four weeks.
The old Elsa had frozen in panic at all of these things, but the new Ellie wasn’t going to balk at this adventure. She’d sheltered herself for too long, locked herself away for too long. Now, well, she might not have that much time left to experience life and she’d be damned if she wasted it.
She signed up for the audition because she wanted to finally do something outside of her comfort zone and modeling for someone was definitely outside of the box for her. When she arrived at the studio yesterday though, the moment she walked in the room and saw him, her whole body had become electrified.
And when he had looked at her…like he wanted to devour her…
It was the most incredible feeling that she had ever had – to be desired like that with just one look. When Tristan had gotten…close…with the other model, she almost broke; it was like she wasn’t breathing watching the two of them, until her clipboard slipped from her grasp, for the second time, and startled her back into reality.
She had no idea why he had chosen her; the others were without a doubt more qualified and definitely more willing to participate in any extracurricular activities, but for some reason he’d asked her to stay. It was that feeling that propelled her hand as it signed her name on the contract - the intense and inexplicable attraction that she had for this man and the sense that he felt the same; it was as if he needed her, and she needed to find out why. No one had ever looked at her that way before; then again, she’d never really put herself out there, not wanting to get hurt or hurt someone in return. Ellie shuddered at the thought.
Ellie had been diagnosed with Recurrent Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia when she was a child. Well, it hadn’t been recurrent when she’d first been diagnosed at age eight; at that point, it was just ALL. After a few months of chemotherapy and recovery, the doctors had proclaimed her in remission and life had gone on. During her senior year in college, she’d noticed the symptoms starting to recur. Looking back, she could call them symptoms, but at the time, she just thought it was the stress of finishing her degree and having to look for a job that was causing her constant sicknesses and the feeling of being tired all the time.
When you are eight years old, they don’t explain to you that these are the symptoms of your cancer.
So, adult Ellie, didn’t put the two together. She graduated and began working in her father’s company, Carter and Young, a sizeable accounting firm in the city. She hadn’t thought to work for her dad originally. She wanted to make her own success, but with almost a year of a perpetual illness that progressively got worse, she’d been unable to make interviews or application deadlines. Finally, after several months of working with her dad, him seeing her almost every d
ay, he’d finally insisted that she go to the doctor. Which she did and based on her symptoms, the doctor assumed that she had mono because, after all, her cancer had been cured, right?
Wrong.
After a failed attempt to heal from the case of mono that she never had, her doctor finally referred her to an oncologist and that was when the fun really began. Her ALL had returned and since it had gone untreated for almost two years by this point, it was just a little stronger than the first time. Well, a little stronger meant that there was a little more involved in eradicating it and it took two and a half years.
First, there was remission induction with prednisone, vincristine, and daunorubicin. Then, there was the intensification period – that had been fun; more drugs at higher concentrations and seven doses of cranial radiation. Oh, and then there was her brief stint in the ICU when the stronger chemo-cocktail had given her pneumocystis pneumonia, complete with feeding tube and the need of a ventilator to breathe. She shuddered at the memory. It had been two years of constantly feeling sick, being in and out of the hospital, being tested, and looking like a shell of herself. Ellie was just grateful that she hadn’t lost all of her hair during that time; although it had taken almost a full year for it to get back to its normal thickness and color and she knew that that was a miracle; most were not so lucky.
Almost a year.
It had worked though; she’d entered remission again, one that was going to be much more closely monitored by her current oncologist, Dr. Sion. Now, it was almost a year since she’d been deemed cancer-free. Another five weeks and she would celebrate, but not yet; she’d learned not to take anything for granted when it came to cancer, or life, in general.
Her illness had taken up so much of adult life over the past several years. Her dream job as business consultant, her social life, her personal life, they’d all taken a hit. It was hard to apply for a job, when the very task of getting out of bed in the morning would some days make her nauseous, and that was ignoring the time-intensive treatment that she needed to receive. A social life? It was hard to go out with friends when the only cocktail you could have was turning your life into a constant hangover; not to mention the fact you also constantly looked like death. And, forget about a personal life. She had barely felt well enough on a good day to go outside, let alone go on a date. Plus, what the chemo had done to her body – who would have looked twice at dating her, except out of pity? Mostly, though, Ellie couldn’t stand the thought of falling for someone and putting them in the position of having to take care of her; it wasn’t right.
The Artist's Touch (The Gentlemen's Guild Book 1) Page 6
