At Any Price (Gaming The System) (10 page)

After the long plane ride, it felt like heaven. And I still had a few hours before the flight to Amsterdam. The bag contained new clothes—the tags still on them from Harrods department store. A smart dark green and black sundress and even new underthings—silk panties and a matching, lacy bra. I blushed to look at them, but felt so pretty when I wore them that I could hardly be upset at the presumption.

I’d never been spoiled before. And I could definitely see the appeal. I applied my makeup and dried and styled my hair and felt like a fresh, new person. I’d stepped into a whole new world, like a modern-day fairy tale. It was just a short, one-hour hop from here to Amsterdam, and Adam, who was waiting for me.

In Amsterdam, a driver met me and whisked me off to the hotel, speaking cheerfully in almost perfect British-accented English, though he was clearly Dutch. He had the white-blond hair and pale blue eyes of his Viking ancestors.

I arrived at the hotel just around noon and checked in, per Adam’s instructions. The clerk handed me an envelope and inside was a smart phone. I asked the clerk if it would work in Amsterdam and he gave me a puzzled look and nodded. I glanced at it and noticed a waiting text message from Adam. It told me to order myself some lunch in the suite and he would see me at three p.m. for a day of sightseeing.

The bellhop guided me through a palatial lobby carved out of white marble and up an elegant Y-shaped, carpet-covered staircase to the elevators. I’d learned online that the majestic building dated from the nineteenth century and featured all the exquisite architectural details an earlier era. The bellhop loaded me into a small elevator—the type that had been fitted in as a nod to modern conveniences and seemed alien in this elegant, old-fashioned building.

On the top floor, he directed me to the penthouse suite. And inside I found a space that could have fit my studio four times over. It was appointed in antique furnishings, had a bedroom and bathroom on the lower floor as well as a sitting room with couch and bar. A dark wood staircase led up to the unknown and I stared at it for a moment, determined to go exploring the minute I was alone. I wasn’t set to meet Adam for another hour, so I had no idea where he was or if he had checked in yet.

“Mr. Drake…” I said to the bellhop.

“I’m sorry, Miss. I do not know. You can call down to the lobby and ask.”

I smiled. “That’s okay. I can text him.”

The bellhop, who had insisted on carrying my ratty backpack for me, didn’t even hesitate or wait for a tip. Instead, he bowed himself out.

A tingle of anticipation started at the base of my spine. I punched in a message on my phone.

Am here. Waiting patiently.

I hadn’t seen him in three weeks and in my mind he’d steadily grown more attractive and delicious. Hell, he’d reached almost godlike proportions by now, in my imagination. I was anxious to see him again. This would be the next and the last day that I would.

There was no reply to my text. Likely he was still in meetings or maybe still in the air. I blew out a breath and fidgeted nervously, determined to satisfy my curiosity.

I walked around downstairs, and briefly glanced at the room service menu before deciding I was too nervous to eat. I looked in every corner around the bar and the single bedroom, where I’d dumped my stuff. I wondered—if the bedroom was downstairs, then what was upstairs? A terrace?

I galloped quickly up the stairs to find out. I landed in an even grander bedroom. It was elegantly decorated with a giant four-poster bed and accompanied by similar period furniture in dark woods. The curtains on the sidewall had been pulled aside and the windows looked out over the canals of Amsterdam.

A fresh set of clothes—which I assumed were Adam’s—had been laid across the bed, but there was no one in the room. I entered and walked to the bed—a king size, decorated in blues, silvers and light gray French toile fabric. My eyes skimmed over the bed, wondering if this would be the place where things would happen tonight. My heart thrummed again and I swallowed, but there was no way I could tell if that was from fear or excitement.

He was here, already. I heard a noise at the same moment a doorknob—presumably to the bathroom—rattled. I jumped back but before I could skitter out of the room, it opened and Adam stood in the doorway, frozen in mid-step. He’d just exited the shower.

Our eyes locked and my breathing froze. He had one snowy towel slung low around his hips, another draped around his neck. He’d obviously just toweled his hair dry. The short cut was frizzed in every direction as if it had been artfully arranged that way.

And his chest—every creased valley, firm muscular angle chiseled in perfect flesh—gleamed with steam. I sucked in a quick breath.

“H-hi,” I finally said, tearing my eyes from his bare chest with reluctance.

“Emilia.” He smiled openly with no apparent self-consciousness. “You made it!”

“I’m—I’m sorry for—I didn’t know you were even here yet. I was just exploring.”

“No worries. My meeting let out earlier than expected so I beat you here. Did you have lunch?”

I fought to keep my eyes from drifting downward again, from fixing on those perfect abs, lightly dusted with dark hair, that seemed to have been sculpted by Michelangelo himself. “I—I wasn’t that hungry.”

“Order room service. I could use a roast beef sandwich and theirs is delicious. We can catch up over lunch.”

“Um,” I stammered and looked away and then back to him. “Sure. I’ll—just go do that then.”

He laughed and pulled the towel from around his neck, throwing it back into the bathroom behind him. And that’s when I saw the tattoo.

Scrawled in elegant jade-green script just under his left collarbone, it was easy to read and very simply designed. Just one word. A woman’s name.
Sabrina
.

I couldn’t look away, my eyes zeroing in on that interesting detail. He glanced down to follow my gaze and then looked up again.

“If you’d just give me a moment…unless you want to stay and do this now?” he said with laughter in his eyes.

My mouth dropped. “I’ll go order lunch, then,” I repeated lamely before fumbling my way out, nearly tripping down the stairs.

I ordered his roast beef sandwich with the works—he hadn’t told me what he wanted on it, after all, and for myself, a grilled cheese with smoked brie and Gruyère.

By the time I was done with the order, he had entered the room, now fully dressed, thank God. Even in jeans and a button-down shirt, he was the epitome of handsome elegance. And even in my breezy sundress I felt awkward next to him. I wondered if that mega-suit he’d worn at the hotel during our first meeting was a fluke. Computer geeks typically didn’t suit up. Most of the coders I knew liked to brag about the casual dress their jobs allowed. But he didn’t seem like a typical computer geek.

Then again, how would I know? I knew so little about him.

That was the way I’d wanted it, right? Wham, bam, here’s your cash, ma’am? And suddenly it occurred to me—with no small amount of fear—something I’d never worried about until this moment. What if I didn’t please him? What if he found me wanting in the bedroom? I was completely inexperienced, after all. Would he feel cheated? Like he hadn’t gotten his money’s worth? I shook my head, ridding it of the odd thought. What was happening to me?

“Cold?” he said, misinterpreting my headshake.

“No. I’m fine. Thank you for the dress.” I said, smoothing my skirt.

“Thank Heath, actually. He had to talk me out of ordering a chainmail bikini.” When I shot him a weird look, he laughed. “Kidding. I asked him to pick out some pretty things for you on the Harrod’s website and have them delivered to the airport lounge. Seems everything went off well.”

I snorted. “
Heath
picked this out?”

He looked puzzled. “Yeah. Why’s that surprising?”

“He has the fashion sense of a barnacle.”

“He
is
gay, right?”

“He’s gay. But he’s not that kind of gay. He’d wear a burlap sack to work if they’d let him—or if burlap sacks were comfortable.”

Adam’s eye traveled down my form appreciatively, but not lasciviously. “He knows colors, that’s for sure. That color suits your dark hair and eyes perfectly. You look radiant. And more importantly, you don’t look like you’ve just spent fifteen hours in transit.”

I spread my arms out in front of me. “Good thing.”

“Are you tired?”

“I chugged a Dr. Pepper on the flight from London and bought another one when I landed here.”

“Good. Let’s eat and then we can see some sights. I was thinking maybe the Royal Palace and a trip down the canals?”

I brightened and he smiled at my obvious excitement. “That sounds wonderful. I’d love to!”

Room service arrived then, and the waiter set it out on the table as if he was a maitre d’ at a Michelin star restaurant. And we weren’t just eating some sandwiches.

My croissant and melted cheese was to die for. Adam laughed at my obvious pleasure in the food, but I could tell he was having a similar reaction to his roast beef. “If I could get away with flying these in for lunch every day from Amsterdam to Irvine, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“Oh, that’s probably pocket change for you.”

“Nope. I could never bring myself to do it. An ostentatious waste. I already feel enough guilt over my carbon footprint and I pay to offset it. But when I do get a chance to stay here, I make sure to have one. I also took one to space with me.”

“Shut up!” I said, my eyeballs almost falling out of my head. “You’ve been to space?”

He nodded, finishing up his next bite. “I spent ten days at the International Space Station last year. Biggest high of my life.”

Every minute I spent with this man, he managed to surprise me even more. “Are you an astronaut, too?”

“A space tourist, more like. The Russians sell slots on their launches to the highest bidder. I got lucky. It happens often,” he said, shooting me a meaningful look.

But he hardly got a reaction from me. I was still reeling from the news that he’d been to space. “What was it like?”

His eyes drifted off to the side and had a sparkling quality about them, liked polished onyx. “It was…indescribable.”

I blew out a breath of disbelief. “Give me something to work with. Come on, just a few adjectives?”

He paused. “Unforgettable. Unbelievable. Like…the entire world had gone silent. The whitest of white points against the blackest black and huge, blue world below my feet.”

I took another bite of my delish sandwich, contemplating his words. “That’s very poetic for a geek. It’s fortunate that I can never quote you because you might have to have your geek card revoked if it gets out.”

He grinned. “I’m a geek for life. Not only am I president of the geek club but I’m also a member.”

I snickered and bit into my sandwich. “If your geek card isn’t revoked because of the poetry it should definitely be revoked for having all those muscles.” I said and then blushed scarlet, realizing I was still remembering that vision of him with his shirt off. The firm pecs, the clearly defined abs and biceps, like he’d been chiseled from marble. “Geeks don’t have muscles,” I said, lamely covering my embarrassment.

It was true. What kind of computer programmer had a body like that? He smirked. “The geeks who didn’t like getting picked on in school and decided to bulk up as a deterrent do.”

I studied him as I finished up my sandwich, hard-pressed to imagine any idiot picking on Adam. But I had no idea what he’d been like as a youth, so how could I know? Whatever the incentive, it had worked. It, along with his brilliant mind, handsome face and dark good looks completed a whole dreamy package. One that, I’d bet, many women tried to get their hands on. I pondered that in silence over the rest of my sandwich. I’d found no information about any previous relationships online. Maybe he’d made those women sign NDAs too.

We spent the afternoon at the Royal Palace and then on a guided tour down the canal. The city was vibrant, clean, a stunning fusion of old world and new. I’d now stepped into an even stranger world than the one I’d entered in that first-class line at LAX. This world included only one other person and I was sharing every experience, all the conversation—for we were rarely without something to talk about—with him. To use his words, it was like the entire world had gone silent and we were the only two in it.

I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like the next day when it was time for me to get back on the plane for the return trip home. How would it feel to go back to the real world after dancing at midnight like Cinderella at the ball?

At least I knew better than to expect my Prince Charming to show up at my doorstep the next day, ready to jam a glass slipper onto my foot.

We returned to the hotel at around six p.m. and Adam said we should change for dinner. He told me that everything I’d need was in the wardrobe of my bedroom. So I threw it open. There were three gowns—one red, one black and one in filmy crème, all with matching shoes. I chose the black and wondered if Heath had picked these out, too. There was no way. They were all so gorgeous.

I quickly showered, redid my makeup and arranged my dark brown hair in a simple straight style that brushed past my shoulders to the middle of my back.

The black dress was beaded at the waist and at the scoop of the bodice, catching the light with glamorous sparkles. It hung on thin straps and was backless to the waist, gathering in loose folds there. Because of the design, I’d have to go braless to wear it, but it seemed to support me perfectly, regardless. I picked out a new pair from a handful of pretty underthings—this one a sheer and lacy pair of panties that made me feel naughty just wearing them. I felt like a princess. Or an actress about to take the stage at the Oscars.

I slipped into the matching heels—I wasn’t accustomed to wearing them, but these strappy sandals were works of art, glittering with rhinestones. Every step I took sent a flare of brilliant light in every direction.

When I entered the living room, it was to a wolf whistle. Adam stood near the ice bucket with an open bottle of champagne in his hands, about to pour. I turned—carefully, so as not to trip all over myself—and he shook his head. “You’re going to be the toast of Amsterdam tonight, Emilia.”