Engaged To The Tycoon

Chapter 6

No, that is a terrible suggestion. I was on the verge of telling myself that I shouldn't glance back at him, but I couldn't help myself and I did it anyway.

He had not moved in any way. He kept looking right at me while keeping that sneer on his face the entire time.

I was completely clueless about knowing when to keep my mouth shut and when to speak up.

I growled at him, "You can look all you want, but touching will cost you." he could gaze all he wanted.

He went about it methodically and carefully, angling his head to the side as he did so. The statement that "nothing is free" was made by him.

However, the manner in which he stated it as well as his whole demeanor made it very clear that he had given those words serious thought and that he had stated them as a result of a protracted fight to discover the truth. If he had been anyone else, the words would have been funny, like a real human being attempting to sound like a Bond villain. If he hadn't been him, they would have been ludicrous and comical.

I inhaled deeply and concentrated my attention on keeping my cool in the situation. In spite of the fact that I was making every attempt to slow it down, I could feel my heart pumping quicker and faster. He ultimately broke his silence, but not before a brief pause during which I was unable to fully appreciate the cause for his silence.

As he made his way around the desk in a leisurely fashion, he methodically made his way toward me. His gait may be described as both graceful and leisurely at the same time. Like a predator. Like water.

I did not move from my stance as he approached closer, and I firmly reminded myself of the purpose I was here in this spot. I had a strong intuition that it had nothing to do with s****l activity. Once more, can you please be more specific?

Oh right. This individual expressed interest in acquiring my services.

As soon as I had that thought, the bizarre spell that he appeared to have cast on me was broken, and for a single second, I was able to detach myself from the situation and escape away from the gravitational pull that he was exerting.

"God, you're rude," I said. "You want to marry me, but you haven't even made the effort to invite me to have a seat in this room," she said. The vast majority of the time, guys try to get me intoxicated before they do anything else.

My statements led him to display no emotion other than a very tiny tightening around the eyes, which was the only change in his facial expression. When he reached the point when the vast majority of people stop moving forward out of respect for personal space, he took two more steps forward.

He had an impressive height. I was dwarfed by him, and I could detect the aroma of his perfume in the air all around me. It was quiet and cool, like ice, but behind it there was the underlying perfume of his skin, which was delicate but rich. This aroma was present despite the fact that the atmosphere was icy. The distinctive scent that men exude.

My already quick-beating heart increased the rate at which it was beating, and it was already very fast. My blood rose. The distance between our bodies was only a few inches at most. If my t**s were larger, I would have been able to take a deep breath in and delicately brush them against his chest. I would have done this if I had been able to do so.

It was a fuzzy thought in the back of my mind, but I had the feeling that things were not going too well. Slippery. It's not easy to get your hands on it. Other suggestions, such as "Kiss him!" and "grab him by the crotch," started to make their way to the forefront of the conversation.

Absolutely useless in every way.

A trace of a smile developed once more on his face, and he extended his arm in a gesture of greeting. The fleeting notion that he was going to hold me against myself and crush me caused my heart to accelerate, and I felt like I was going to throw up.

But all he did was point to the couches that were off to my left when I was facing him.

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"Could you please," he pleaded. “Sit.”

It was so unbelievable to me. I have the utmost contempt for him.

I gave him a hard smack on the shoulder, not in a seductive way, but in a good old-fashioned you're in my way-asshole way, and then I stomped over to the couch in an aggravated manner. I turned around in place and made sure to give him a hard whack with my shoulder as I did so. Because I had to hide a gasp, the effect was considerably lessened; his body brushing against mine caused electric shocks to race through my body. The pleasure was somewhat dampened because of the gasp I had to stifle.

I abhor him in the most fundamental way that is conceivable.

I made certain to just flop down without any ceremony on his superbly set couch, and I propped up one of my feet that was wearing flip-flops on the table. The fact that the polish on my toenails had chipped off, however, provided a nice touch in my opinion. I moved very slowly in all directions in the hopes of re-hydrating some of the clay that had dried out.

Anton Waters didn't even move. He was looking at me in a disinterested manner while he stood in the middle of his office and looked at me.

"Aren't you going to take a seat for a moment?" "Are you going to stay standing?" I asked him.

He responded with "Yes," but he didn't really mean what he said. He was looking at me while c*****g his head to the side as he investigated further. I sat on his couch, in a position that was both awkward and enticing to me at the same time. After what seemed like an eternity, it was finally apparent that he had accomplished what he had set out to do, and he stepped over.

On the other hand, he did not sit on the couch directly across from me as he was meant to; rather, he sat down next to me and crossed his legs, displaying the sharp, well-cut lines of his suit pants. He was standing quite close to me at that moment. Too close. I didn't want to give the appearance that he made me uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form, so I concerned myself with collecting the contract from my handbag. I didn't want to move away from him and give the impression that he made me uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form.

"And exactly what does this mean?" I said. I made him feel as if he was in danger by brandishing the contract before me in the same manner as I would a knife. If he had just been sitting there like a regular person across from me, it would have been a lot simpler for me to talk to him. Instead, I had to find a way to get it past him without drawing his attention to it.

Again, a crease developed in his face as he grinned feebly, and then he moved, laying one arm in an indecently personal position on the back of the couch, and tilting his head once again.