BOUND: Bare Innocent (The Billionaires Club Book 4)

by Q. Zayne

  Contents

  Title

  Caught

  Revelation

  Auctioned

  More Hughes Empire Edgy Ebooks

  Copyright

  About the Author

  Bound Description

  Title

  BOUND —

  Bare Innocent

  Pia’s First Time

  The Billionaires Club

  By Q. Zayne

  For T

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  Caught

  The sound of footsteps on the soil startled me. A stranger stopped walking and stood a few feet from me. My heart pounded. I reached under my skirt’s waist for the knife I carried in a passport pouch. I didn’t believe in violence, but during weeks of living in my car, I’d learned to be wary. People out to do harm usually looked for a victim, not a woman willing to put up a fight. I chose the spot for my nap with care. People seldom walked so far off the path in this part of Golden Gate Park.

  Why didn’t he go away? Why was he standing there? He was too close. I couldn’t move without being seen. If he hadn’t seen me already. I held my breath. After a heady minute I had to compromise with quiet sips of air. Please, please, please, don’t let him see me. Did anyone listen to a small young woman named Pia? I wasn’t so sure anymore.

  The stranger’s shoes caught my attention. They were gorgeous shoes, fine-grain black leather, and looked hand-stitched. If I polished them with my breath, I could see myself in them.

  If I saw nearly any other kind of footwear that close, I would have run. Reasonable or not, I didn’t think a man wearing such expensive shoes was up to no good. What I could see of his black trousers went with the shoes. They appeared new and had a professional crease. The guy was not dressed for a ramble through Golden Gate Park. Maybe there was a special museum event for donors. That’s where he fit, based on my worm’s eye view. I kept my breathing as soft as I could. Maybe he hadn’t seen me.

  “Isn’t this how Thumbelina starts? She’s found in a garden.” He had a cultured voice, with pleasant, warm, low tones. I imagined him singing in a choir. “You’re exquisite. The play of the leaf shadow over your legs and skirt, the sun dots on your T-shirt and sleep-softened face. The highlights in your mass of tangled pale blonde hair. Oh, I don’t mean to embarrass you. I enjoy photography, it has me looking intensely at lines and curves, light and shadow. I don’t mean to sound like a dirty old man.”

  I laughed. Despite my grim circumstances and the embarrassment of being caught sleeping on the ground, he charmed me. I sensed he meant no harm. Thumbelina. I hadn’t thought back to the pleasure of storybooks in years. Maybe I’d go to the library and see if I could find it. I sat up and plucked leaves out of my hair.

  “You aren’t old.” I didn’t mean to sound arch or flirtatious. I meant it as a simple fact. The tall man in the fine suit and the gray tie with a subtle aqua pattern that matched his eyes — well, many words came to mind to describe him. Arresting, good-looking, elegant, charismatic, magnificent, fun, pleasant, kind, funny — none of the descriptors at the front of my mind had anything do do with his age. The crinkles around his eyes, the slight marionette lines around his generous mouth, and the silver streaks in his dark hair suggested he’d reached maturity. Yet his muscular, erect body and his sheer vitality radiated a sense of youth. I would not be able to guess his age.

  “I imagine your parents finding you under a cabbage leaf and being filled with wonder.”

  I flinched. “What a thing to say.” I plucked at my skirt, made sure it covered my knees. My Mom was dead. She’d been my only family. I didn’t like to think of her, and of being alone in the world.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll go away if you want, but I’d rather help you up and take you out to lunch.”

  I looked down at my rumpled skirt with leaves sticking to it and my stained T-shirt. I wore running shoes without socks. They might smell. I tried to stay clean, but it was a challenge. We’d gone from one fairy tale to another. Cinderella had nothing to wear to the ball, and no fairy godmother.

  He rocked on the soles of his fine shoes, yet his face looked calm, not impatient. He seemed to have nothing to do other than wait for my answer. Well-dressed people didn’t look at me usually, so his attentive manner put me off guard. How would it be to have lunch with this man? It would be the best meal I’d had in a long time.

  My car was nearby, but the clothes I had in there were other free-box finds, no better than what I wore. It was such a warm day, I dared to hide for a nap outdoors. I didn’t understand how the stranger found me. I’d crawled into the thick cover of rhododendrons bordered by azaleas. It was one of the few areas of the park with hiding spots remote enough not be be frequented by men cruising for men or used by drug users or long-time street people. I made certain I wasn’t visible. I didn’t want to be attacked.

  I had the impression he knew I was there, had homed in on me. Eerie.

  “How did you find me?”

  “I wanted to find you.” He was so matter-of-fact, I couldn’t respond.

  What was going on here? Were serial killers this suave? I suspected he was what he looked like: an improbably wealthy man taking a stroll through the park. I’d heard of women who had a kink for sex with homeless guys. But surely a man that good-looking and well-off could buy any kind of sexual service. There were plenty of homeless-looking hookers in the Tenderloin, male, female, and in transition from one to the other. He didn’t need to come looking for me. He wanted to find me. How ominous that sounded. A shiver went up my spine and made my nipples harden.

  “Look, it’s getting chilly. Let’s get out of here. We can walk toward the museum. My car is there.”

  I accepted the hand he offered, a big, warm hand with a sure grip. On my feet, I stood eye-level with his chest. He let me go and backed off to give me room. I smiled when he turned his back to let me pull myself together. His gentlemanly discretion let me look at him more closely. His height and broad shoulders dominated the garden. Even with so many flowers in bloom, I couldn’t look at anything but him. His hair brushed his white collar and his beard showed on each side of his neck. A serious beard, not the scruff or goatees young guys sometimes had. It captivated me as tangible masculinity, a wonderful relief from the scraped-bare set. It gave him the air of a rebel, too, despite his magnificent suit. A watch with many dials gave the impression that he might be an explorer. That fit with the lines I’d noticed radiating around his eyes and beside his mouth when he faced me. I brushed off my clothes and finger-combed my hair. The snarls needed help, but at least I got the debris out of it.

  I went to his side and walked with him. The broad path took us through the landscape that always soothed me. Old trees, broad expanses of green, wide paths that made it easy to avoid getting too close to anyone else.

  He allowed me to compose myself. I was grateful for that. As though sensing when I was ready, he slowed and spoke to me.

  “I’m Gabe. I’ve enjoyed this park for many years.”

  The way he said it implied he might number his years in centuries, not decades. I was being imaginative. My Mom had hated that about me. May she rest in the arms of angels.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, how do you come to be living like this?”

  He sounded so polite and respectful, I couldn’t muster the outrage I might have felt if someone less sensitive posed the question. His eyes conveyed such empathy. They flashed an unusual color between emerald and turquoise. He struck me as uncanny. It didn’t scare me that he seemed so knowing, yet it
threw me off. I took a long breath. No, it scared me. But I wanted his company. I didn’t usually want to spend time with anyone, but this man, I didn’t want the strange encounter to end. Not yet. It was as though he was a mystery I wanted to solve. I wouldn’t be satisfied until I read the book to the end. It didn’t hurt that he was so easy on the eyes and had a lovely voice. I composed myself. What would it hurt to tell him my story?

  “I was a nun. When I left, I had no money, no possessions except my car. My Mom died years ago, so I had no place to go. The car was my inheritance. It’s old and sad now, but it’s shelter. I’m always on alert to keep it from being towed. I sleep in a pile of clothes. I heard you can get arrested for having a sleeping bag in your car if an officer suspects you’re homeless.”

  “You left a nunnery?” He stopped at a pond where a pair of swans swam.

  We watched them. Swans mate for life.

  “Not all nuns live in cloisters. My order engaged with the community. We ran a food bank and focused on good works to relieve the suffering of the poor. Many people have turned against the idea of kindness toward people living in hardship. The world needs more kindness.” The sun made him too radiant to look at, lighting his beard to a nest of lightening. How would it feel, soft or bristly?

  “It sounds as though you liked that life.” He peered down at me as though he saw more about who I was than I cared to reveal.

  “I wasn’t suitable.”

  “Not suitable?” He searched me with his perceptive eyes. “Why not?”

  “I had thoughts.” I sensed he knew, but wanted to make me say it.

  “Had thoughts? Everyone has thoughts.” He gave me his charming grin. “Even a big, bad, old billionaire has thoughts.”

  “I mean, I could not stop having carnal thoughts.” I turned my face to hide my blush. Billionaire. Men were so brash about their status and wealth. Difficult to imagine a woman making such a statement.

  “I don’t suppose praying and good works stamps those out in everyone. Possibly not in anyone. I read some lives of the saints way back. Lots of personal torment and struggle. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Normal young women do have such thoughts. There’s nothing bad or strange about you.”

  “But I had such thoughts, and feelings — strong feelings — about my priest!” It came out as a wail. I still couldn’t believe the things that went through my mind, the, yes, torment in my body when he came near me, the wanton fantasies that captivated me for hours while I still smelled his scent, felt his hot touch on my wrist. I didn’t have to wait for the fires of Hell, I already felt them. They burned between my legs. Unholy desires for a holy man consumed me so I felt I was going mad. I wouldn’t tell Gabe everything. I’d never told anyone.

  “About your priest.” He looked at me with compassion.“That must have been awkward. So you left.” He spoke without judgment.

  In a different world, this man might have led a spiritual life. Gabe. Gabriel, the angel.

  The swans swam away, as though on cue. Gabe headed along the path and I fell into step with him, longer steps than mine. By stretching my legs, I kept pace with him.

  “Yes. I didn’t admit why. I couldn’t face anyone, especially not Father — I mustn’t say his name.” Guilt still clawed at me, the sense of being so dirty, I’d never be clean again.

  “No, of course not. And I won’t pry.”

  I sighed, relieved. If Gabe wanted to find out anything from me, I didn’t think I could withstand him.

  “This will be difficult for you because of your beliefs — and that boulder of guilt you’re carrying for being a sexual being — but I can help you.”

  “Help me? You?” I must have looked stupid. I’d given up hope of help.

  “Yes. Come on. Let’s get you a place to clean up and change and we’ll talk it out over lunch.”

  My stomach rumbled, to my shame. He must have seen the suspicion on my face. “I’ll leave you in private to change, I swear to it. And we’ll eat in public. Please, don’t worry. I’ll explain everything. It will be up to you to choose.”

  I sighed again. What would I do otherwise? Continue wandering at the edges of the community, eying for chances to wash up in park bathrooms without getting caught, spying out places to park my car at night that didn’t feel too dangerous, because no place felt safe? Keep making as much money as I could doing online jobs in libraries while trying not to lose my temper at all the people who used libraries to chit chat or talk on their cell phones? I’d discovered within days that there are few places to be left alone when you’re without a home. Other than driving out to the beach once a week, I could seldom relax and be in one place for hours. I lived on the move. As difficult as it was to concentrate surrounded by inconsiderate people, my online income was crucial to what was left of my life. If I ran out of gas, if anything went wrong with the car, I was sunk. During all the work I did with the poor, I didn’t realize what it was like to be unable to do laundry due to not being able to spare the money it cost. As bad as my life had become, I witnessed daily reminders that it could be much worse. Many people had been without homes so long they’d stopped making attempts to get clean. I clung to as much cleanliness as I could manage, despite the fear of being attacked or arrested while washing my hair in cold water in a public sink.

  “Let it go,” Gabe whispered, as though he knew I tortured myself. “Come with me.”

  We reached a busy part of the park that had parking for cars and tour busses. Far more people occupied the sidewalks. Snatches of different languages reached me in the warm breeze. Everyone looked so neat. I felt horrible in my crumpled clothes — even more unkempt than usual from my nap in the dirt — looking every inch the beggar in contrast to a man. His spectacular time piece flashed on his wrist. I took a closer look. It had more dials than I’d ever seen on a watch. I pictured him exploring the world with that watch, checking tides or winds, atmospheric pressure for spacecraft lift-off, piloting a submarine.

  I followed him, a lump in my throat, my heart hammering, feeling ashamed of my too-worn clothes and tangled hair.

  “Walk with me,” he invited. My heart lifted, realizing he wasn’t ashamed of me. I joined him, fell into step, eyes down to evade being captured by his dazzling masculine attractiveness. I shouldn’t notice such things, feel so much in response, but I did.

  It took all my will not to bolt in terror when he took me to a top-notch hotel. “I promised you privacy. I keep my promises.” He whispered.

  “All right.” I didn’t feel all right. The opulence of the place cowed me. Even when life was better, I knew nothing of such surroundings.

  He booked a room, gave me the key card. “I’ll send clothes. Something modest, don’t worry.” He grinned. He looked so boyish when he smiled. He looked like helping me was the most fun he’d had in ages. “I’ll be here in the lobby when you’re ready.” He gestured to a group of club chairs.

  I didn’t know what to make of him. The Bible was pretty down on rich men. A camel more likely to fit through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter the heavenly gates and so forth.

  He turned away and my heart ached to see his tall, broad-shouldered body walking away from me.

  I waved away the uniformed man waiting to escort me. He’d expect a tip. I made myself take the elevator to the room. This was strange, but I could do this. We’d have lunch in public. Nothing would happen.

  I found the room. After struggling with the card, I stood alone in a huge, opulent, white and gold suite. Alone. That luxury, so rare in my life, brought tears to my eyes. I breathed in the solitude, the sudden experience of privacy after months without it. The balcony looked over the city with its acrid fumes and ant marches of vehicles going in all directions. The orange miasma of pollution hung over the East Bay.

  Enough. I rushed to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Now for the true luxury. Water, so much hot water. I didn’t bother to conserve it, despite California’s long drought. I had no idea when I’d next have acc
ess to a shower. I wanted to feel clean, fully clean. And I was having dinner with an amazing man.

  I scrubbed myself pink under the strong spray. My breasts and thighs turned rosy. Such a gift. I prayed my mysterious benefactor didn’t have a bad agenda. Some people offered kindness without ulterior motives, but I wasn’t such an innocent not to know they were rare. And I remembered my mother’s warnings, that men wanted only one thing from a girl and would lie to get it. It happened to her, causing her to end up with me, and her bitterness from being saddled with a child had filled my early life like an evil presence. Perhaps her hatred of men, summed up in her credo, ‘They’ll screw you and leave you,’ had more to do with my choice to become a nun than I ever realized. We were Protestant, so my path wasn’t an expected choice. Most girls I went to school with left the area for college or married local boys, depending on how smart they were.

  I toweled off with the most plush towel I ever felt and put on the soft robe provided. What a life.

  A knock at the door made me jump. Oh, the clothes from Gabe. I felt nervous and eager. I grew up poor and my life as a nun, and my fall to poverty, hadn’t allowed me much of a wardrobe. I felt a keen flash back to Christmas, a year when my mom was working and not too angry with me, and there were lots of presents. What did he pick for me?

  “Come in.” I stayed in the bathroom. “Just leave the packages, thanks.” Gabe would have taken care of the tip, and there was no way I was going out there in a robe.

  The door closed. I dashed out and dug into the bags. Oh, wonders. Everything. He’d sent everything! My greedy fingers fondled the finest fabrics I’d ever touched.

  I blushed at the fine white lace panties and bra from a lingerie boutique. I tingled as I wriggled into the soft, filmy things. I adjusted my breasts in the cups, checked the rear view of the panties. They were the right size. Was he some seducer, he could tell women’s intimate sizes from having their bodies so often in his hands, so many of them, more than he could count? There might be a less salacious explanation, but his knowledge of my sizes disturbed me.