Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
He killed the man that assaulted me. Why would I think he’d let me go?
“Are you threatening me?”
When he doesn’t respond, I try another angle. “You said I’d be paid two million dollars.”
It was too much to hope for. Too much money for too little work. I don’t know why I was so naïve as to think he’d actually pay me that much money—
“Check your bank account.”
I hold his gaze for long seconds before I pull out my phone. Open the app.
Then stare at the largest balance in the history of ever sitting in my bank account.
I think to myself, there are millionaires that own less money than that.
“Ah, right,” I say, attempting to fuel my words with an aloof attitude but sounding like a grouchy child who just woke up from her nap. “You had access to my bank account.”
No response.
“Well.” I turn away from him. I feel as if my feet are frozen in place. I can’t even lift them.
I have the money.
And wasn’t that all this was about?
I have to get to Savannah…
I have to… talk to Gwen and Cosette…
The list of things I “have” to do is dwindling. I look up at him.
“You said there was… one condition,” I whisper.
Give me a reason to stay.
“One more time.”
My heart skips. I lick my suddenly dry lips and swallow. “One more time… what?”
“Let me make love to you. I’ll make love to you before our time is up.”
It’s the least I can do, I reason, as if I need to convince myself this is right. I do owe him this.
But a part of me wants one more time.
One more time to be held.
One more time to be kissed.
One more time to be ravaged by the beast.
“You can leave,” he says. “Every penny’s in your account. La Maison is closed and you, like the rest, will have the opportunity to take a severance package or work at Thayer’s establishment. But I have one more hour with you.”
I glance at the time and realize with a sudden jolt that he’s right.
He’s right.
What will he do with that hour?
“Alright, then. I’m a woman of my word. I told you I would fulfill my end. So let’s do this.”
I start stripping out of my clothes as he unfastens the first button of his shirt.
“Let’s go.”
The coherent part of my brain reminds me this is not a wise move.
The primal part of my brain’s having a party.
And a part of me wonders. Is it true I can’t be with him? Or truer that I can’t not be with him?
I’m a sex worker. I do this for a living. I am very good at having sex without emotional attachment.
I’m not sure what he wants to show me right now, but he can have. At. It.
I yank off my top and throw it over my shoulder as he slides his arms—his gorgeous, tanned, very muscular arms—out of his shirt sleeves.
Fucking show-off.
“Leave the rest for me.”
“Or what?” I challenge, mentally daring him to try to dominate me now.
“Or you get that spanking you have coming before I strip the rest of your clothes off and fuck you against the goddamn window.”
Well. Challenge accepted, apparently.
I remove the rest of my clothes except for my underwear and toss them in a pile behind me. I fold my arms across my chest.
I stand, squaring off against him.
He stands in nothing but a pair of very nice, well-fitting boxers.
My chest heaves.
He looks cool as a cucumber.
I feel disheveled and hot, my hair all askew and wild.
He’s devilishly handsome.
So handsome.
Ugh.
“You have your money, Nicolette.”
Why does he have to remind me about that? Why now? What have I done to make him throw that in my face?
“I’m aware.”
“Then I want it abundantly clear. I’ve done my part. And you, as a woman who honors your word, will do yours.”
What the hell is that all about?
“Of course?” I say with a question in my voice, because what the hell is he talking about?
When he walks toward me, I can’t control the full-body shiver that comes over me.
He reaches behind me toward the little table next to his sofa. I don’t look, because I don’t want him to think I’m nosy.
I am curious as fuck.
When he comes back over to me, he has a silky tie wrapped around his fist. No, not one tie. Several.
“You promised to be mine.”
“I did,” I agree. What is going on?
“So you will fucking do what I say.”
Ah, so that’s where he’s going with this.
I nod.
“Sounds good,” I say, hardening my heart against whatever he’s planning on doing. “For old time’s sake.”
He snaps his fingers.
“Kneel.”
Of all the—
I drop to the floor on my knees. Just like he taught me. Just like he wants me to. I swallow against a strange, sudden rush of emotion that takes me unawares.
Fabien, why do you have to be so perfect and so wrong for me?