Valentine Vegas Gigolo Sheikh by Teresa Morgan

had to do something. Between his words and this position, she had never felt more vulnerable. She had to get the situation back on track. If she didn't, everything would fall apart and no one would be able to put it back together. She gathered all her strength and shoved him to one side.
    He rolled off.
    She took a deep gulp of air, gasping the coolness into overheated lungs. Relief flooded through her veins. She was free again. The universe righted itself. She pulled up to a seated position, with her back toward him, and hugged her knees to herself.
    "Do you see what I am trying to tell you?" he asked, in his best-education-money-can-buy slash Arabic-royalty accent. "Stacia, we could explore what we have together, if you can accept that I will never be under your control."
    What he had been saying sank into her. He had scraped her raw, exposing her fears and her flaws. He was too dominant, too threatening. Had she regretted she wouldn't see him again? She didn't regret it anymore. Now she didn't even want to see his face right now. And as for his exploring 'what they had together,' well, that was never happening.
    "Stacia?"
    She forced her voice to obey her. "The money," it cracked.
    "The money?" He sounded bewildered. She knew that if she turned around, she would see those quotation marks on the bridge of his nose.
    "My money," she said, louder. Now that he wasn't on top of her, squeezing the air out of her, saying things that smashed her defences, her voice strengthened. "The five hundred you screwed me out of."
    "Stacia," he said, "you must see reason. This is not about the money. This is about your discomfort with the possibility of having a relationship with me. The money is only one more way you protect your—"
    "Shut up," she ordered him.
    She didn't stop to enjoy the insulted majesty on his face. She practically leaped from the bed where she'd allowed him to dominate her, like she was some kind of love-str... No, like a royalty -struck idiot who was just happy to have someone hot and famous notice her.
    God, what a moron she was. She began the search for her clothes. All she wanted in the world was to cover up, to not be exposed to him anymore.
    "If you feel the need to assert your control over the situation by requiring me to pay you, very well." His tone was the epitome of exasperated logic. "This time. It is not something that I will permit in the future."
    Her heart rate began to calm. Assert her control? He was so wrong. As for a future, they didn't have one. "I'm about to lose my job, remember? I need that money. It's not about me asserting anything. Just having the cash to live."
    "Nonsense." He shut the drawer of the nightstand a little too hard, but not hard enough to be a slam. No, actually slamming the drawer would be betraying too much emotion for the jerk, she thought, with a snort.
    She flicked on the light, illuminating the upscale hotel room with so much more space, and more luxury, than hers. Fresh flowers on the table when hers was bare. A thank you note embossed in gold letters, no doubt from the hotel manager.
    Most of all, the light showed her him, in all his naked glory. Muscled and tanned, even in February. Tall, perfect hair. Confident and assured. Requiring nothing and nobody. In total control of himself and able to manipulate everyone else.
    As she pulled her dress into place, he walked toward her with assured strides, the envelope in his hand.
    "You don't need this money," he told her, as if he was the only one who knew the truth about her. "You may lose your job, but you will handle it with your usual competence. You will have a new position as soon as you truly desire it. You no more need this money than I do."
    Rage lit up behind her eyes and she pulled the envelope from his big hand. "Must be nice to live in a world where everything is handed to you."
    Then she noticed something about the envelope. Creamy white hotel stationary. Not the envelope she'd prepared for the gigolo. She opened