It felt like an eternity had passed by the time he finally said, “I’ll help you with your paper. Every night after dinner we will work on it together. Okay?”
When I met his bright blue eyes again, he was flashing me a genuine smile and my heartbeat picked up. How embarrassing. Snap out of it, woman! Agreeing to help me with homework was just one of many tricks in his big game plan of getting my clothes off, just like organizing a custom dinner with my favorite dishes. He wasn’t interested in my food choices or my paper or my world views or my economics professor. I would be an idiot to let myself believe otherwise. He had made no attempt to hide his motives behind this entire set-up, and if I let myself get confused into thinking he actually cared about me, only I would be to blame when I got hurt in the end. Staying grounded through these six months seemed like a harder task right now than it ever had before, but I had to be strong and take this for what it was to him: a game.
“Thank you,” I said, trying not to betray my train of thought.
“And one of these days,” he added. “I would be happy to come to your apartment for some pizza and Bud Light. We can do the Netflix thing as well if it makes you feel normal.”
“All right.”
---
When I finally got home that night, however, I started panicking. Zayden Sinclair, in my house? The living room floor was covered in magazines, and Stacey and Nick would scrutinize him to no end, and our T.V. was not even a flat screen. The couch was fifty-years-old, a gift from Nick’s now deceased grandmother. Maybe I could get him to change his mind…
As I covered myself with blankets, my thoughts drifted away from the apartment to that moment during dinner when his thumb was rubbing against mine. Laden with desire, I softly rubbed my fingers against each other. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I could not let him have this kind of an effect on me. This was exactly what he was trying to accomplish, and I knew better than to let him have what he wanted. With the firm decision to actively block any compromising thoughts of him, I closed my eyes.
That didn’t stop me from dreaming compromising dreams all night, though.
CHAPTER 6
ZAYDEN
I was surprised by Aria’s progress on her paper so far. Over the past few years running the company, I had grown cynical of women, and the thought of them as intellectual beings had not crossed my mind since my MBA days. It probably had to do with not working with many smart ones. But man, this girl was bright. Had I not been dallying with her with the intention of getting into her pants, I might even have offered her a long-term analyst position at the bank. She would crawl up the ranks quickly with her out-of-the-box thinking and passionate articulations of ideas on the impact of individual economic status on large-scale growth of a national economy. Unfortunately, some other institution would be lucky to have her as an asset, since I had already decided on utilizing a whole different set of her talents; hopefully she had those talents, even though she was a virgin. Oh, who was I kidding, I was going to enjoy every minute of it even if she just lay there like a rock. Getting her to lay down next to me was going to be the hardest part.
I was doing everything I could: researching her favorite cuisines, offering to hang out in her comfort-zone, even helping her with homework. But it wasn’t enough. I had to do more. Suddenly, I had a flash of inspiration and logged onto the MBA homepage of my alma mater.
If I submitted her abstract for publication in their Economist Tribune, they would jump to accept it purely based on my recommendation. I could gladly throw some money at them if that helped, but I did more than enough to uphold the university’s financial standing. There was no way they would decline something that came from me. I had to be careful, though, in letting her know just how much influence I had on their decision. She needed to know that it would not have happened without me, but her pride would suffer if she didn’t feel she merited the publication. In order to get her running into my arms, I had to find the perfect balance between the two.
I had begun working on the submission when she walked in.
“It’s almost six, did you want me here tonight?”
“Of course, every night. Didn’t we go over this?” I looked up at her.
She frowned. “You just look busy is all, I wasn’t sure-”
“Seriously, every night.”
“Did you get a chance to go through my paper yet?”
“Yes.” I chose my words very carefully. “It’s promising, but certainly needs more work and some solid data.”
She bought my bluff and her face fell. All the better for when she would finally learn about the publication. I felt a rush of excitement. If that didn’t do it, I didn’t know what would.
“I knew it,” she said in a disappointed voice. “I am sorry for putting you through reading that crap. You don’t have to help me with it if it’s beyond hope. I don’t want to waste your time on something that sucks.”
“If you only knew how much time I waste on things that sucked,” I winked.
She gasped. “That’s awful. And 23.”
“Huh?” 23 what? What was she talking about?
“Since the beginning of our contract, you have objectified or insulted women a total of 23 times.”
“You’ve been counting?” I widened my eyes.
“Not consciously until about 17,” she shrugged helplessly.
“Does it really bother you that much?”