The Billionaire's Lie [PREVIEW ONLY]

Chapter 2: Candy

Some parts of this excerpt have been edited, so there will be differences from the original text.

"I'll pay you," he said. "If you take off your clothes and get into the bed." He held his hands up, palms toward Alexa. "I won't be joining you, obviously."

"Obviously," she echoed. She stared at him incredulously. What the hell was he talking about?

"I'll give you one hundred dollars."

"I am not a sex worker, Mr...." She tried to remember the name the room was registered under. "Mr. Butler," she said. Butler? Darien mentioned the guest was a VIP. The Crofton was owned by the Butler family. Could this man possibly be one of Stephen Butler's sons? "You seem to be confused as to the ... nature of the business we do here at the Crofton Regent."

He looked alarmed and moved back a step. "I don't want sex. God, no."

She felt her blood rise to her face. The way he denied having carnal intentions toward her was more than mildly insulting. "I'm not a stripper either."

"I'm not asking you to swing from a pole. Just get into the bed without your clothes. You can close the bedroom door while you undress. I won't look."

"And then?"

"I'll leave the door open, and you'll pretend to be asleep. Fifteen minutes, tops."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

He couldn't possibly be serious. She looked around. "Is anybody else here?" she said. They were alone, as far as she knew, but she wanted to be sure. Somehow the idea of stripping for this hot piece of white meat was not at all unappealing, but if someone else was going to get an eyeful of her ...

"My fiancée will be here in a minute. That's why I need you to hurry."

"Your fiancée." This was getting too weird. "I would think that the last thing anyone would want is for their fiancée to catch them with another woman in their bed..." She frowned. "Is it a woman? Your fiancée, I mean."

"Yes, she's a woman. I have my reasons, Ms..."

"Diaz. Alexa Diaz. And I'll do it—" She paused, and saw his shoulders sag in relief. "For a thousand dollars," she added.

He stared at her in stunned silence. "That's out of the question."

She shrugged. "Okay then. Good night, Mr. Butler." She grabbed the doorknob once again.

"Fine."

She stopped.

"One grand," he said. "If you can get into bed in the next sixty seconds."

She turned around. He called her bluff. One thousand dollars.

Holy shit.

"In cash," she added.

"Of course." He sounded annoyed like it was a mere detail. Inconsequential.

"And you'll need to take your clothes off first."

He looked puzzled. "Why?"

"Because if you're going to pay a woman to strip, you should take your clothes off too." She grinned. "It's only polite. I mean, it's not like you've never been naked—"

He tugged at the towel around his hips.

"... in front of a woman before," she continued, her voice trailing off into a whisper.

There was an utter lack of embarrassment in his expression, only impatience, as he stood in front of her as exposed as the day he was born. As though he was showing her nothing more than a piece of candy.