by Measha Stone
He laughed, a cheerless, deep-rooted sound that failed to add levity to the room. “What the hell would I do with a coffeehouse?”
“You could turn it into one of your clubs or keep it a cafe. We already have staff. All you’d have to do is collect the profits. Maybe Dad could still run it for you–”
His lips thinned and eyebrows rose. “What do you know about my clubs?” Of all the things she’d just suggested, that was what he wanted to know more about? His clubs?
“I know you own several.” A dozen, to be accurate.
“And what type of clubs are they?” he asked, uncrossing his feet.
She regarded him for a long stretch before licking her bottom lip and answering him. “Nightclubs and a few sex clubs.”
“Well, strip clubs, to be precise, but yes, sex happens. A lot.” He pushed off the desk and strolled around to the other side, opening a drawer. “Do you think your father would like me to turn his little cafe into a strip club? Maybe he could manage that? Help the girls with the blow jobs in the back room?” The sneering grin accompanying his crass words sent a tremor through her.
This was not a man with compassion.
A door behind him opened. She hadn’t seen it at first; it was masked along the wall. Her father stumbled in and barely caught himself before falling on his face.
She rushed toward him as he straightened. Peter stepped in front of her father, blocking her attempt to help him.
“Move.” She tried to get around him, but he thwarted her.
“It’s fine, Peter. Let her see him,” Ash said.”
Peter moved to the side, and she stepped up to her father. His face was swollen, one eye completely closed. Reddish-brown dried blood creased his puffed lips.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Her father coughed and grabbed onto her shoulders. “You need to leave.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I won’t leave you here. We’ll find a way to pay him. There has to be a way.” She kept her voice hushed, not wanting anyone else to hear. “We can sell everything.”
He grasped her face. Years of hard work left his hands rough against her skin.
“It’s not enough, Ellie. If it had been, I would have done it. I owe him almost quarter of a million dollars. The interest compounded too quickly. You have to leave, go home. Please. I can’t risk losing you.”
She’d heard the regret in his voice before, too many times for it to register as truly authentic. Always on the lookout for the fast buck, the quick way to repay one loan or another. And, every time, she paid the price. She could be angry with him later, once she made sure he was safely out of Ashland’s clutches.
“You’re so much like your mother. Strong and loyal. Not weak like me, Ellie. Please, you need to go.” He tried to push her away but started coughing again, grimacing. His ribs were probably as bruised as his face.
He was right.
She was strong. Much stronger than he. And the strong didn’t let the weak die. The strong protected.
She turned away from him. Taking long strides, with her chin thrust out, shoulders pinned back, she moved to the desk, facing Ash who hadn’t moved during their exchange. He eyed her with an arched brow.
“Let my father go. I’ll pay his debt.”
The corners of his lips curled upward. “And how do you think you’ll do that? You’ve already admitted you don’t have the money, and I’ve already denied your request for more time.”
“What are you going to do with him? If you kill him, you get nothing.” She waved in her father’s direction, not facing him any longer. Not able to withstand seeing the torment in his eyes for another second.
“His death would be a message to those who think they can borrow and borrow and never repay.” His sinister tone unsettled her, but she didn’t cower. “I’m not a fucking charity. He owes.”
“Then take me.” She heard her father’s gasp but didn’t react. She focused on the man who towered over her, even with the desk between them.
“You?” His voice rumbled with the question.
“Yes.” She gave a curt nod. “I’ll work off his debt. In your clubs.”
“No. Ellie, no!” Her father tried to get to her, but Peter grabbed him again.
“Do you know how long that will take?” Ash asked.
“I’ll do whatever is needed, but you have to swear to let him go and never bother him again.” Her nails dug into her palms, but she didn’t blink, didn’t turn her gaze away, even when his eyes narrowed.
He stepped around the desk, coming to stand behind her. His hands closed over her shoulders, and he tugged, turning her to face him. Her eyes came in line with his chest, but he gave a simple command.
“Look at me.”
She tilted her head, dragging her gaze over the buttons of his shirt, past the swirl of a tattoo peeking out from where the top buttons were undone, along his thick neck covered in stubble, and across his beard before she came to his eyes. She’d been wrong. They were bright blue with specks of gray.
“You have no idea what you’re offering me.” The warning sang clear in his tone.
“I’ll work off his debt. Take my life for his.” She may not understand the workings of his mind, but she knew what giving up her freedom meant.
He studied her for a long moment. “You would give up yourself for him? Why?”
“He’s my father.”
After a prolonged moment, he gave a brief nod. But she doubted he understood. Men like him only understood loyalty to themselves. Only to him.
Releasing her shoulder, he ran his knuckle across her jaw until he reached her mouth. He ran the tip of one finger over her bottom lip then her chin, her neck, until reaching her chest. He didn’t stop, and she made no move to make him, either. She sensed a test, and how well she performed would determine his willingness to accept her offer.
Her father yelled again for Ashland to leave her alone, but no one acknowledged him.
Ashland’s finger trailed along her breastbone, into the dip of her T-shirt and the valley between her breasts. Her breath picked up, her lips parted—to beg him to stop?
He moved from her chest to the elastic band of her skirt. Instinct took over, and she put her hands on his, stilling him. It only took a raised brow to make her release him. If she stopped him now, he wouldn’t consider her offer.
Unchallenged once more, he continued his descent, slipping inside the band then beneath the cotton of her panties and lower still until he tickled the narrow trail of hair there.
“Spread your legs,” he whispered. She scooted her feet apart, just enough to give him room to continue. Her face heated, and tears welled, but she wouldn’t tug away, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She had to make this deal in order to keep her father safe and alive. Ash could touch her body, but he wouldn’t get gratification of seeing her unease.
“You’re wet,” he accused softly. His lips curled. “Danger turns you on.” He kept his gaze locked with hers and pushed a digit into her entrance. She gasped, not having expected him to go so far. Her body stretching around him was only slightly uncomfortable. He pumped in and out half a dozen times before he withdrew and rested his finger against her clit. Humiliation over what he’d just done washed over her, stealing her breath and heating her face.
Keeping the tears back took more strength than she could have ever imagined possessing. Managing to stay upright and conceal the shaking of her insides, a damn miracle.
“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” Fatality resounded in the words he spoke, amplified by his solemn tone.
“He’ll be safe?”
Ashland jerked back as though her skin suddenly hurt him. Steadfast gaze locked with hers, he pushed his finger into his mouth, licking it clean of her juices. Oh God, she’d been so wet. He gave his attention to Peter. “Let him go. Put him in a car and take him home.”
“No!”
“If you so much as dial her cell number, your debt will be reinstated. Th
ank your baby girl, old man. Her tight little pussy just saved your fucking life.”
Ellie tried to reach her father, to hug him, to promise she’d find a way to see him, but Ashland grabbed her arm and held her at his side.
“No! Ellie. Don’t do this!” Her father continued to struggle against Peter, but he couldn’t overpower him any more than he could in the cafe.
“I’ll find a way. I promise.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.
The door slammed, and her father’s cries became only a muffled sound fading away. Ellie wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to suck in air. Wiping her cheeks, she settled a glare on him.
“You are a beast.” Her voice shook with rage.
His lips curled again, exposing his perfectly white teeth, and he grabbed her chin, forcing her to hold still as he brought his mouth down on hers. She didn’t struggle, but she refused to respond. It didn’t matter. He pressed hard, biting her lower lip before straightening and chuckling softly.
“I am. And you are quite the beauty. But don’t think for one fucking second this has a happily ever after.” He gripped her face tighter. “Because this is no fucking fairy tale.” He released her with a jerk and called his men.
The masked door opened, and the two men she’d seen earlier entered.
“Take her upstairs. Make sure every thing’s locked,” Ashland ordered, and before she could argue, could ask him what he was going to do with her, they had her in their clutches and dragged her from the room.
She’d saved her father.
But what would become of her?
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CHAPTER TWO
“She hasn’t eaten since she got here, Ash.” Peter aimed the pool stick at the cue ball, lining up to take the winning shot.
Ash enjoyed playing with Peter. He never let him win. Unlike most of the other men in his employ, Peter never shrank from expressing exactly how he saw things. He never minced words. Ash trusted few men in his life, but Peter sat at the top of the list.
“She’ll eat when she’s hungry enough.” Ash watched the eight-ball roll into the far corner pocket and tossed his stick on the table. “I don’t know why I play with you. I never fucking win.”
Peter laughed and put his stick in the rack.
“Have you seen her?”
“Since she was put in her room? No.” Ash strode toward the bar. He’d added the billiard room shortly after the house came into his possession. He was no pool shark, and hustling had never appealed to him. He just liked the game. The simplicity of it. Not much else in his life was so easy.
“What are you going to do with her?” Peter poured himself three fingers of whiskey.
She’d been in her room for nearly a full day. From what the maids told him, she hadn’t slept in the bed. And now he had confirmation she wasn’t eating, either.
“I don’t know yet.”
“You could sell her. Easiest way to get the money her father borrowed.” Peter sank into a chair and sipped at his drink.
He’d already considered the idea. The wide-eyed, naive girl who had marched into his world and demanded her father’s safety. No, not demanded. Traded. She had traded herself for her father.
Dominick Stevens. Ash had pegged him for an easy score. Lend out some money, ramp up the interest, make a tidy profit. When he hadn’t paid the first installment, Ash gave him more time. But three strikes and you’re out as far as he was concerned. Unfortunately, killing him wouldn’t have made him any money.
Ellie didn’t know what she offered when she bargained for her father’s life. But Ash had accepted anyway. He remembered how wet she’d been when his fingers slid through her folds, how fucking tight her pussy had been when he thrust into her.
Her father standing nearby, yelling at him to stop, to leave his precious daughter alone, hadn’t bothered him in the least. Nor the pleading in her eyes. She hadn’t fought him, not with any willful strength anyway. Ellie was smart enough to know if she’d resisted him, he wouldn’t consider her barter.
She’d called him a beast. And she was right.
He made his fortune off the misfortunes of others. He wasn’t ashamed. It wasn’t his fucking job to police the world. Adults made decisions and paid the consequences when they failed.
“Sell her against her will? Is that your suggestion?” Ash brought his brows together.
But wasn’t she already acting against her will? She didn’t want to be there in his house. She didn’t want to be locked in the bedroom adjoining his. And she didn’t want to say goodbye to her father forever.
Oh, she’d made the offer. She wasn’t the first woman to cry for help, to beg him to forgive, but she was the first who had sought him out at his home. She was the first for whom he entertained the idea. And making her say goodbye to her father, making her stand in his office with his fingers up her pussy had felt fucking good.
“Ash.” Peter put his drink on the table and leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees. “Dominick could go to the police. He could raise suspicions. And the last thing we need is more attention.”
Peter was right. They’d survived investigations into his companies before. Rumors spread he was trafficking women. Well, mostly rumors.
“He’d be a fucking moron to do something like that.” Ash downed the amber liquid in his glass. “I’ll have Charlie keep an ear on things.”
“You have his daughter. Fathers do stupid things for their kids.” Peter threw back the rest of his drink and stood. Peter knew exactly how much a father would do for his children, seeing as his had given his life to save Peter’s. A bad deal, the wrong crew, everything had gone to shit and, to save his oldest son, Peter’s father had taken the hit.
“Don’t worry about Dominick. Or his daughter.”
“You can’t sell her.”
“You were the one who suggested it.” Ash made his way to the door, already set on his course of action
“She’s an innocent. The men who would want her—”
Ash opened the door and paused.
“Don’t go getting soft on me, Peter. And don’t mistake naiveté for innocence.” He’d seen the fire in her eyes, felt the heat of her pussy as he touched her. She’d been aroused, at least her body had been. It might take some time for her mind to catch up. But, lucky for her, he could be patient when needed.
“I’m going to check on my—guest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
# # #
Ash wasn’t sure what to expect when he entered the room adjoining his through the connecting door, but what he found still surprised him.
The woman stood near the window, tying bed sheets corner to corner. He had to blink several times to be sure he wasn’t seeing things.
“Those knots won’t hold,” he remarked, rounding the large four-poster bed to her side.
She gasped, eyes wide. She’d appeared less fearful in his office. But she’d been in protective mode then. Now, she was on her own and had spent a full twenty-four hours figuring out what she’d gotten herself into.
“You have to use a square knot. You’ve got slip knots there. You’ll fall and break your neck.” He picked up the sheets she’d stripped from the bed, and others most likely retrieved from the bathroom closet. “You’ve read too many books, I think.”
She gripped the fabric until her knuckles whitened. Her hair, he noted, had been left loose around her shoulders. Long, thick waves fell in front of her face, curtaining her expression from him. That wouldn’t do. None of this would do.
He wanted the hellcat back.
“Drop the sheets, Ellie.”
She glanced toward the open window. He’d have to talk with his men. When he gave an order for everything to be locked, he expected it to be carried through.
“You know, if you managed to get down from here and through my security gates, your father’s debt would remain unpaid.”
Dark-brown eyes shot up to meet his. Good. The fire returned.
“And, I would have to add interest as well. A penalty for reneging on our deal.”
She cursed and let out a grunt before throwing the sheets to the floor.
“There’s a good girl.” He kicked the mess away until nothing separated him from her.
She tucked her hair behind her ears and did her best to glare up at him. The fear still lingered there, a tiny speck in her expression, but otherwise her stubborn nature came through.
“I’m told you haven’t eaten.” A tray of roast beef and mashed potatoes sat untouched on a table in the corner.
“I’m not hungry,” she said and stepped away from him. He went over to the table and picked up the plate. Still warm. Not as hot as when he ate his supper, but still edible.
“You need to eat. You haven’t had anything since you arrived.”
“I don’t want to eat. I don’t want anything from you.” She sat on the bare mattress and crossed her arms over her chest. Taking the time to really see her, he noticed her generous breasts. Not too lavish. Breasts weren’t meant to be overblown balloons, but gentle flesh of a woman he wanted to caress. Touch them.
Whip them.
“Too bad. Everything you get in future will be from me. So, get used to it.” He brought the plate over to her and put it on the bed. “Eat.”
“I already told you—”
He pushed the plate aside and pressed his hands into the mattress bringing his face down to hers, touching her nose with his.
“And I told you to eat. You’re here, in my house, under my fucking rule. You will do what I say, when I say, and exactly how I say. Eat your fucking dinner, or I’ll tie you to a chair and force it down your throat. And if I have to go to all that fucking trouble just get food in your damn belly, I’m going to make sure I enjoy the process.”
Her eyes widened; a little gasp escaped her lips. If she knew the details of what would make him enjoy it, she would do more than let out a puff of air.