He seemed to believe me because he admired the grounds behind me, his hand moving to the back of his neck to give himself a quick scratch. He was so strong, with such hard features to his face that made him undeniably handsome. He could walk into any bar and get any woman he wanted, even if they spoke different languages. With every passing month, every week, every day, I found him more irresistible. It was hard to believe that I was his one and only, that I was enough for him.

Masculine, with a libido that took several sessions to quench. Rich, with more money than he could spend in several lifetimes. Ripped, hitting the weights the way some people attended church. Handsome, with hard features, a shadowed jawline, sexy lips, dark eyes.

How was I enough for someone like him?

What had I done to deserve to be loved so unconditionally?

Weak and stupid, I couldn’t survive on my own. I’d had two roommates back in America because I was just a bartender who couldn’t stand on my own two feet. I had no ambitions in life.

His eyes homed in on my face. “Don’t do that.”

My eyes flicked to his face.

“You look like that every time you hate yourself.”

For a man so…manly, he had unparalleled intuition. He could read between the lines when other men couldn’t. He could see what others could not. Or maybe he just knew me the way I knew him. “Is that something you would notice with your French girls a lot?” I didn’t say whore because it seemed demeaning, even though that was exactly what they were. If I got paid to have sex with Fender, I’d probably do it too.

His eyes focused on me for a while before he answered. “Yes.”

I could barely tolerate it, and no amount of money would make me tolerate it better. I wasn’t one of his French girls. Nor would I ever be.

“Don’t compare yourself to them. I don’t.”

I studied his face.

“Because every time I was with them, I wished it were you.”

The estate was filled with people.

Women in gowns. Men in tuxedos. Flutes of champagne were delivered to guests, as well as tiny appetizers guests could enjoy in a single bite. The house was decorated with extravagant flowers, and a string quartet played instrumental music that made the moment identical to a scene in a movie. I’d lived a life of luxury for months now, and I never got used to the wealth Fender possessed. I never got used to the things money could buy.