4 - Grace.

It's incredible how quickly my plan went out the window once I came face to face with the man I'm supposed to be bartering with. My body for our home. Or rather, it's my mother's plan I'm failing to execute. She's the one who dropped me off less than a mile from our landlord's gated mansion, advising me to walk the road indefinitely in the hopes that William would stop to offer assistance.

We thought about simply arriving at his home and asking to make the trade, my virginity in exchange for cancelling the eviction, but my mother didn't think that would work with a man as shrewd as William.

You'll have to get under his skin first, honey.

Make it impossible for him to say no.

If anyone can do it, it's you.

Dripping wet on the expensive leather seat of the limousine, I have no idea if I'm succeeding. William watches me from the dark end of the vehicle, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a frown on his harshly attractive face as he considers me, his fingers in a steeple in front of his mouth.

He really is mean. Crude. Demanding. He didn't even recognize my last name—the last name of the family he's decided to evict.

But just like always, like every time he's come to my neighborhood to pick up the rent, I sense there is so much more under the surface. Past all the scar tissue around his heart. Deep down, he's the kind of man who couldn't help but hold the umbrella for me.

When will I know if I'm under his skin?

Part of me wants to blurt the truth now—that I'm one of the tenants he's throwing out. That I came to offer him sex to let my family stay. But what if he says no and my time with him is over as quickly as it started? I'll lose my one and only chance to reach the man beneath the devilish exterior. I'll miss my opportunity to find out about him. To spend time in the presence of the man I've been dreaming about since the first time I saw him.

Just a little longer. Then I'll explain.

I'll give him the truth and accept his decision.

The sound of gravel crunching, followed by a mechanical whir, makes me look out the window, finding the limousine pulling through two tall, wrought iron gates. Then we're speeding up a long, tree-lined driveway, the largest house I've ever seen coming into view around the bend. "That's where you live?" I whisper, turning in the seat. "All by yourself?"

"God, yes. Blessedly alone."

"You never get lonely?"

"Never." His eyes are so intense, landing on every part of me at once, his hand reaching down to adjust his gold belt buckle. "It's what I'm used to. I don't know anything else. Being lonely would never occur to me."

That sounds terribly sad to me, but I keep my sympathy to myself, sensing it wouldn't be well received. "Sometimes I like being alone, too. I sneak into my mother's closet to write in my diary." I stumble over the last word, worried I've said something that might reveal me as a tenant. This man doesn't know the people who live in his buildings, though. All we are is numbers in a ledger to him. He has no idea about the people who live within the walls. "I think nothing can be better than the silence, but then I open the closet door and smell my mother's roast chicken. And I hear my brothers arguing over the remote and it's...home."

"How very nice for you." He shifts in his seat. "It occurs to me that I haven't asked your age. If you're still writing in a diary, perhaps you're younger than I thought."

"I'm eighteen." My cheeks heat at the accusation that my favorite hobby makes me immature. "People of all ages can write in a diary."

Silence ticks by. Then, "I suppose you're right." He clears his throat hard. "If people such as war generals or ancient philosophers didn't write in diaries, we'd be missing chunks of history."

The temperature of my face cools.

Does William realize he said that to make me feel better? The answer could be yes or no, based on his scowl. "Isn't there something you do to relax and collect your thoughts?" I ask.

An evil smile curls his upper lip. "Do you really want to know the answer to that?" My breath draws short, even though I don't know exactly what he's referring to. I only sense it's sexual in nature. Before I can question him, he laughs under his breath and continues. "I could tell you I swim in my pool, play tennis on my courts or travel, but I'd be lying. I get pleasure out of buying real estate and making money. That's it. I don't need anything else."

The limousine stops at that exact moment.

We stare at each other from a few feet apart until the driver opens the door and William alights, holding his hand out through the opening and waiting for me to take it. Which I do. And then I'm a sopping wet mess with sloshing shoes, climbing the steps to a palatial mansion.

My heart races in my chest at the very notion of going inside. It's bigger than all of the buildings on my block combined, and then some. There are no flourishes or homey touches on the outside. It is strict red brick and wrought iron. A tall, imposing door that sweeps open when we approach, a housekeeper with a stiff upper lip stepping aside to allow us entry.

William takes hold of my wrist and guides me over the threshold, speaking briskly to the perfectly coiffed older woman. "This is Grace. She will be staying with me tonight. She's to have whatever she wants, whenever she wants it. Is that clear?"

"Very clear, sir." The housekeeper turns to me, showing no reaction to my wet clothing. "Is there anything I can get you, miss?"

I start to decline, of course. I've been raised to do things for myself and my elders. Not the other way around. But William did promise to spoil me silly and there are two words that have been whispering in my head since he uttered them in the limousine. Swimming pool.

"I would love to go swimming," I blurt.

William pauses in the act of removing his jacket. "Now? Wouldn't you rather get warm after being in the rain?"

"That does sound nice, but...I've never seen a swimming pool at someone's house before. Well, only on television." Feeling kind of pathetic, I hug my elbows tightly. "There's a community pool near...near where I live, but it's always packed. You can't swim two feet without running into someone and the chemicals burn my eyes. I just thought it would be nice, if it's not any trouble."

William is looking at me strangely, in a way I can't decipher. "Of course it's not any trouble." I get the impression he meant that to sound snappier than it did. "We'll require a warm towel downstairs, Pauline. And a robe."

"Yes, sir. Shall I find a bathing suit for Miss Grace?"

A muscle ticks in his cheek, those predatory eyes raking down the front of my indecently see-through dress. "That won't be necessary."