“There’s nothing else to talk about, Michael. I never felt comfortable getting into this agreement with you, and now I have enough confidence that it’d be best for us both if we call it off right now. Please, don’t insist. You’ll find a dozen willing girls more qualified to replace me for a tenth of the amount you paid me.” I turn the doorknob and start to open it.
“Sit,” he orders with a threatening tone, and I freeze on the spot. He stands, walks around his desk, and comes beside me to push the door closed. I notice a small device in his hand. It looks like a remote control. He points the device at a large TV attached to the wall and the images of Zane at my apartment fill the entire screen.
I watch myself in horror as I hand a glass of water to Zane. The next minutes are shocking enough to make me want to escape to the Brazilian jungles so I won’t have to face anyone who might see me fucked by Zane over the arm of the couch. I look pathetic as I moan with Zane plunging into me.
I glance at Michael in disgust. My stomach revolts at the repulsive look on his face directed at me. Did he put cameras all around my apartment?
At one point, I’m recorded from front, at another Zane’s back is seen. Which means there were two cameras, one close to the window in my living room, and the other on the other side of the room, both recording our fuck clearly and with no intrusion. Unless Michael is a detail freak and filled every corner of my apartment with dozens of cameras, it looks like the two cameras were set looking exactly at the arm of the couch. Not even the sitting part of couch itself. Then, I remember the suspicious way Zane asked me for water as soon as he’d entered my home. He might have set the cameras at that moment, when I was in the kitchen. That’s why the recording starts with me handing him the water and not before.
And the coconut oil incident? That explains everything. It wasn’t Ace who planned to use it to get to his brother. It was Zane, deliberately making himself go through an allergy attack so he can come over to my apartment, place video cameras, and fuck me while the cameras record every second of our depraved act. He wouldn’t be able to do it at PE. Ace wouldn’t allow him to protect my privacy. What a perfect set-up, now that I’m thinking about it. And, I let that happen. I allowed Zane to complete his plan without suspecting anything about his unusual arousal after having seen his tongue and half of his face swollen with an allergic reaction. Where was my mind? Who else goes from coming so close to death to having sex in a matter of an hour? Not someone with good intentions.
All the speeches Zane gave to warn me about Michael, and it turns out he was in it with him. Plotting ways to trap me into doing whatever Michael wants me to.
“Everyone has a weakness,” Michael says over my moans coming from the TV. “And you delivered yours to me right away on the first day of our meeting. You, yourself, told me you can’t go without men, and I just found a way to use that important piece of information to get what I want. Now, if you don’t want to follow my orders, I’ll make sure everyone in the world sees this. Not just that, the contract you signed with me will be leaked on the Internet before you can leave my office. Everyone will know what kind of a whore you are. Your life will be ruined, so will be your sister’s.”
“You promised me you wouldn’t harm the project you have with Taylor’s company.”
“I don’t need to do anything in particular for that. I’ll just cancel the project, sit back, and watch how the word about their unprofessionalism spreads. It won’t take more than a couple of months until she signs for bankruptcy. She’ll lose everything she has. I just happened to learn that she donated her entire inheritance to charity half a year ago. I bet you’ll agree with me about the stupidity of her move, considering the harsh unpredictability of the business environment. She won’t have a back-up plan. She won’t even be able to get a business loan. She’ll be ruined for good.”
Taylor gave away her millions? She hasn’t told me anything about it, but it sounds like her. Michael can’t be lying about something I can find out easily with a phone call.
Oh, my goodness. The construction project Michael assigned to them was much bigger than Taylor’s company had in the past. If Michael decides to pursue his threat, the cancellation of the contract in the middle of the project has the power to destroy everything she’s worked for until now.
And, I’m pulling her down with me. Her company won’t just have a bad reputation because of a canceled project, but also because of her whore of a sister, whose sex video will be all over the internet. She and her husband are both in the business together. They won’t weep just for the death of their dead daughter, they’ll break down entirely with the loss of their livelihood, too. What the hell have I done? I couldn’t have dragged Taylor into more desperation even if I tried.
“Why? What do you want from me?” I ask, tears stinging my eyes. “I don’t own any money besides what I received from you. I don’t have access to highly confidential government data. I can’t give you anything that you don’t already have. What is it that you’re ready to destroy me for?” I should have asked him these questions before signing the contract. Who else gives almost two million dollars to someone without an ulterior motive? But, what can it be that he wants from me?
He moves toward me, lifts his hand, and caresses my cheek. “Soon, my dear. You’ll find it out very soon. But for now, I expect you to be at your best behavior for the next weekend, and you’ll do everything to please my guests.”
I work hard to swallow my disgust and not to yank his hand away. I’m ruined. I’m fucked, and nothing or no one can save me from the shit I pushed myself into. I played with the fire, enjoying its hotness, its bright colors, without caring about its dangers. I brought this upon me; I’ll have to end it myself, even if it means I’ll let a line of disgusting strangers fuck me over and over. Even if it means I’ll become Michael’s puppet and do as he pleases with me for as long as he wants. I have no other choice.
He glares at me, perhaps angry at my unresponsiveness. “I don’t have the entire day. Give me your answer now. Julie is waiting for my word to upload the video and the contract on the internet. If you say no, your video will go online at this very second.”
“Okay. I’ll do whatever you want as long as you don’t hurt me or my sister.”
“Deal.”
“One more thing. You’ll fucking stay clear of my children, including Ace. Your privileges at Pleasure Extraordinaire have just ended. If I find out that you’re anywhere around that building except for when I order it, I’ll consider it a reason to end our deal.”
I won’t see Ace anymore? I won’t get to kiss him again, wrap my arms around his comforting body? Pain slashes through my body at the thought of the lonely days ahead of me without Ace soothing my pain, giving me courage to move on, and look ahead despite Michael. Worse than the thought of having the world witness how Zane fucked me. I close my eyes, willing my tears to not leave my eyes, and simply nod my acceptance.
“Now you’re dismissed.”
I turn toward the door, dragging my heavy body as I open it and walk through it, cursing the first day I entered through this very doorway. How foolish and naïve I was for believing in the idea of having my life changed with a seemingly profitable contract. Tears rolls down my cheeks freely as I rush through Julie’s office. Just when I reach the exit door, I see her smirking at me with contempt. She must have seen my video and be thinking what a slut I am. Everyone else will have the same opinion of me if Michael puts the video and the contract online.
I’m trapped, living the end of my life as I know it. I’ll have to pray that it won’t get any worse than this, but something inside me is telling me this is just the beginning.
THE END
Thank you for reading Pleasure Extraordinaire 2.
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Excerpt from The Pursuit of Passi
on (Taylor & Adam’s love story) by Liv Bennett
Adam Garnett has been known for his utterly good looks, brilliance at closing multimillion-dollar business deals, and failed attempts at seducing his boss, Taylor Doheny: The beautiful widow of Adam’s best friend.
Three years after her husband’s death, Taylor Doheny is still determined to keep her heart locked away from men, particularly the ultimate flirt and notorious womanizer named Adam Garnett.
She had better take care; his ravishing words, sweet promises, and provocative gestures are threatening to break through her defenses and irrevocably get under her skin.
When Adam risks his life to rescue her during a vicious assault, Taylor can’t find it in her to ignore his broiling desire and obsessive lust for her. Will she be able to leave the past behind and open up her heart to Adam, despite the real danger of having her already fragile emotions crushed?
Prologue – Taylor
The day Jack died was the day I came close to death myself. The last seconds before that merciless truck crashed into the back of our car replayed in my mind so many times, I am sure it is engraved into my synapses and won’t be erased, even if I suffer from a memory loss in the future.
We were driving on the interstate between San Diego and L.A. late at night. At exactly eleven thirty seven, just before midnight, Adele’s “Someone like you,” began playing on the radio. Jack hated romance pop as much as he hated snakes. So, he leaned down to change the radio station, in spite of my pleas for him to give it a try for once, and settled on “Hit the road, Jack” by Ray Charles. He even made a little joke about how that evil song was written for him, before slamming on the brakes and rear-ending the car that had suddenly pulled out in front of us.
Between the airbag blowing up on my face and the seat belt cutting into my chest, I heard Jack yelling, “The brakes aren’t working,” over and over like a broken record. As I tried to pull my face away from the airbag that was drowning me, blinding lights blocked all my senses, and within a split second, the car shook with another hit. The last thing I saw before I passed out was the roof smashed down onto the driver’s seat.
All my hopes died with Jack, along with the meaning of my life. I had nothing to look forward to and nothing to fear from. It was as if my taste buds for life’s offers died altogether. Winning the jackpot or losing a limb would elicit the same effect on me; that is, no effect at all. When I saw people laughing or hugging each other, I turned away as though I’d accidentally clicked on the news channel in Chinese. I stopped understanding feelings. I stopped feeling sensation of any sort. Jack’s death emptied my emotional storage, if such a thing existed, and numbed me to the core.
And, ironically enough, the next time I looked death in the eye, it helped to set me free from my emotional dry land, and since then, a new hope has begun limping in.
That’s probably one thing I should thank my attacker for.
Taylor
“You’ve got multiple cysts on both of your ovaries, and your blood test shows hormonal imbalance. You might experience permanent infertility issues, if we don’t treat them now.”
Dr. Fowler’s words keep echoing in my ears like a catchy song you can’t get out of your head. There is a long list of issues I should take preventive steps against, cancer and osteoporosis being the top, but I don’t. So, why should I bother about infertility issues when my husband, the love of my life, is dead, and I have no plans whatsoever about having another man in my heart—or in my bed, for that matter?
Only, I can’t help but bother.
I’ve always wanted to have children of my own. If Jack and I’d had a child, perhaps I wouldn’t be so numb inside. And, I’d have a piece of him with me.
I hand the valet the key of my Hyundai, vaguely aware of the stretched Bentley and Aston Martin lined up behind, and stride toward the hotel door. The doorman greets me and opens the door for me. I nod and walk toward the majestic hallway of Peninsula at Beverly Hills.
My toes curl inside my five-inch-high heels as I step on the shiny marble floor, taking extra care not to slip. I stop to take in the simple but tastily decorated cream and brown anteroom, letting the one and only memory of me enjoying this luxurious hotel, a popular destination for the Hollywood’s rich and famous, flash through my mind.
Jack proposed to me here in one of its prominent, private villas almost four years ago. He’d planned everything perfectly; a delicious dinner with a violinist playing only for us, a grape-sized diamond ring that had ‘You and me, forever’ engraved on the inside, and a fascinating view of Beverly Hills. But, I couldn’t give a damn shit about all the details. I had the most caring, handsome, and loving man in the world proposing to me. I’d have melted into a puddle of happy tears, even if he’d given me a rubber band as a ring… at McDonald’s.
A young girl with blonde hair carefully arranged in a bun on top of her head, wearing a green skirt suit, comes around the reception desk, taking me away from the sweet memories.
“Mrs. Edelman, welcome to the Peninsula at Beverly Hills.”
I smile at the way she’s addressed me, rather using my real last name, Doheny. My assistant instructed her well, I think to myself. Although three years have passed since Jack’s death, I refuse to change my marital status and still keep Jack’s last name.
She continues with a well-practiced tone, “We’re very pleased you chose our hotel for your company’s fifteenth anniversary celebrations. Everyone else has arrived and is waiting for you in the Magnolia Suit. I’m here to accompany you to the suit.”
Your company.
Another thing I continue to keep after Jack’s death. His construction firm; Edelman Constructions. I couldn’t tell granite from marble, but I promised myself, after Jack’s funeral, that I’d continue his family’s legacy and run the company his father had founded fifteen years ago. But more often than not, it’s the company that keeps me going rather than the other way around.
“Thank you.” I nod and pace with her toward the elevators. She starts reciting the menu to me as we enter the cab. I half-heartedly listen to her while checking my look in the mirror beside the sliding doors, to make sure my Roberto Cavalli sits right. One of the many ridiculously expensive dresses Jack bought for me. A purple, knee-length, sheath dress with a boat neckline. It shows half of my left shoulder and covers the other one fully. The shopping assistant at the store made me feel guilty about not buying matching shoes and insisted on selling me the most eccentric pair of high-heeled boots I’ve even seen. The cream boots reach a little above my ankles and are covered with large green, blue, and purple stones.
I run a hand through my hair, which is resting loosely around my shoulders and suck in the fresh floral aroma as we leave the elevator and head toward the suite door. Although the people on the other side of the door in the suite have more reasons to fear me, losing their income being the main, my knees shake as if I’m about to appear in court. I’m sure they expect me to give a motivational speech for the bright future of Edelman Constructions and make a few silly jokes along the line. However, I’ve never been much of an extrovert and have gotten even worse since Jack’s death.
Jack must be watching me, otherwise, why do I feel so nervous?
The blonde, whose name I’ve already forgotten, opens the door for me and wishes me a great evening before she leaves. I clear my throat and step inside the suite.
Among the crowd, my eyes look for the one and only person who can help me out in this hairy situation; my good friend and HR manager, Macey Williams. With her hot-pink dress and dark-red hair, she’s not difficult to spot.
I’ll need time to get used to those red curls of hers. I liked her better as a brunette. For some reason unclear to me, she looked friendlier and more approachable with brown hair. Rather than changing her hair color every six months or so, she’d do better to get rid of that pair of thick, black frames hiding her almond-shaped, brown eyes. As a caring friend, I told her so, and even bought a gift card for a complete laser
treatment for her eyes in the most regarded eye clinic in L.A. for her last birthday. She’d easily meet a Hollywood celebrity or two on her way to her appointments.
But, no. The little miss red-hair will keep her glasses no matter what.
She stands only inches away from Adam Garnett, the project engineer. That’s his title, at least, but he involves himself in every aspect of the company and the projects we take over. He spends most of the time on the construction site to ensure that schedule and quality requirements stay on track, while keeping a keen eye on what’s going on with the staff, and still squeezing clients into his lunch breaks. He’s a one-man show in every sense, and if it wasn’t for his brilliance and commitment, I’d be signing for bankruptcy the minute I stepped outside of the hospital after the accident.
Adam lets out a hearty laugh at something Valerie says, and I remember Valerie’s rather surprising revelation about her secret crush on Adam, the last time she and I went out to get drunk. That was two months ago, and I wonder if she still has feelings for him.
Actually, it’s not difficult to fall for Adam. Besides his tall, muscular figure, thick black curls, and intimidating hazel eyes, Adam is a person-magnet. It never ceases to amaze me how easily he can get along with different types of people, ranging from construction workers to CEO’s of multimillion-dollar companies. He’s like a movie star everyone wants to hang out with.
I’ve watched him enough at work to know that it isn’t just women who fall for his smoldering, bad-boy looks, but he has an enigmatic personality that pulls men, too. And strangely enough, other men don’t look threatened by the way women react to him. I bet he’d make a good subject for a social psychology class, only if the female students could manage to stop drooling and actually analyze him objectively.
Luckily for me, both Jack’s inner and outer beauty prevented me from having a crush on Adam.
Pleasure Extraordinaire 2 (PURSUIT) Page 14