She didn’t appear to know him at all. She must have been thrown at him by some acquaintance as a loser desperate for a trust fund baby. That or she’d signed up on one of those sites where rich men could just choose whom to buy. She had no self-esteem and never did, ready to sell herself to anyone who would win her applause. Though that had been her modus operandi her whole life, she’d never learned that it was a guaranteed recipe for disaster. But, once the fantasy of a beach house and fancy car settled into her mind, she was gone, gone on her next journey to doormat-hood. It was also quite detestable beyond that, in that he was clearly looking for not only someone he could buy, someone with no power or money of her own, but a clone of his ex wife, similar in too many ways, even holding the same profession. She’d found another loaded child, and, given that she was one herself, she quickly gave in to her own future abuse. Yes, they always seemed wonderful … at first. But there had only been one man who’d ever laid it to out to her honestly. She simply could not grasp that when they told her everything she wanted to hear, it was nothing but pretense, sliver-tongued bait to lure into servitude, and she could not understand that their very professions gave them away as users. He was a player, and he was far outside of her league. She should have known it immediately.