by Regine Abel
ANTON’S GRACE
Regine Abel
Copyright © 2017
COVER DESIGN BY
Nero Seal
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal and punishable by law. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This book is a work of fiction freely inspired by the Ant and the Grasshopper fable. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
A special thank you to my beta readers whose feedback has been invaluable in my first venture into the dark romance genre. In particular, much love to my PA, Lynn Kline Underwood for holding my hand through my angsts-ridden bouts of self-doubt, and Debra McDuffie for all your help.
Samantha Hanson, you are one amazing lady. Indie authors depend heavily on bloggers to get our books out there. The unexpected kindness and support you have shown me went above and beyond. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
To my family, especially you Mom and Dad, no daughter has been more blessed than I have been. I love you.
DISCLAIMER
Anton’s Grace is a dark romance intended for readers over the age of 18. This book uses mature language and contains explicit sexual content, dubious permission and graphic violence that may be disturbing to some people. If you are a sensitive reader then this book isn’t for you.
Otherwise, welcome to Venus Hive!
~Regine Abel
CHAPTER 1
Grace
My mouth was dry and my heart hammered as I walked up to the sleek reception desk of the Venus Hive headquarters. From the moment I began a serious singing career, I dreamt of entering these walls where the most influential man in the entertainment industry reigned. However, I never imagined it would be to come begging for a handout.
When Marcus and I first arrived on the Venus Hive space station a couple of weeks ago, I believed we had finally hit the big time. The station could hold a city of six million people. Although labeled a pleasure barge, it exclusively catered to entertainment in all its forms. From tribal dance shows to classic or popular concerts, exotic animal racing to casinos, dance clubs to fetish clubs and everything else in-between, Venus Hive had it all. It didn’t matter which alien species you belonged to, you were guaranteed to find something entertaining – and I intended to be part of that entertainment. With Marcus as my charismatic agent, we were bound to move in no time from the Commons into the VIP area.
Then things went south.
An attractive redhead sat at the reception desk, her attention focused on her computer. I cast a nervous look at the sexy, but tasteful art pieces covering the white walls. Most of them depicted dancing babes in lingerie or couples of all pairings locked in steamy embraces. I wasn’t much into BDSM but one picture of a beautiful naked male being flogged by his gorgeous Domme was especially striking. The artist captured the perfect mix of pain and pleasure on the man’s face, as well as his trustful submission to his powerful Domme.
My footsteps were drowned out by the chatter of a small crowd gathered in the hall. Their numbered badges and constant fidgeting indicated they were here to audition. As though sensing my approach, the redhead looked up and greeted me with a polite smile. I wiped my sweaty palms on the colorful print of my dress.
“Welcome to Venus Hive. How may I help you?”
“I–I wish to see Mr. Anton Myers, please,” I said, cursing my trembling voice.
“Do you have an appointment, Miss…?”
“Hopper… Grace Hopper,” I said. “And no… I’m afraid I don’t have an appointment, but it’s quite important.”
She blinked, her smile becoming strained. “I see. If you’re looking for work or wish to audition, please fill a form at one of the terminals over there and—”
“I’m not here for a gig,” I interrupted, trying not to sound rude. I glanced at the holographic nameplate on the desk which read ‘Dana Brooks.’ “Look, Dana… I know you probably get a hundred freaks in here every day wanting a piece of Mr. Myers. I promise you, that’s not my case. This is an urgent personal matter.” I leaned over the desk, pleading. “My life is literally in your hands right now. I only need a few minutes of his time, then I’ll leave without a fuss.”
Dana leaned back in her chair to assess me. She pursed her lips while giving me a once over. I felt happier than ever to have settled for one of my more modest outfits, consisting of a colorful sarong draped as a halter dress and medium heeled pumps. Had I worn my usual skin-tight, barely-there dresses and fuck-me shoes, Dana would have already turned me out on my ears. With a sigh, she tapped the com system and spoke into the microphone hanging beside her cheek from her earpiece.
“Mr. Myers, there’s a Grace Hopper here requesting to see you on an urgent private matter.”
I hated my last name. As an infant, my parents abandoned me at the orphanage with only Grace pinned to my clothes. Mr. Carston, the caretaker, thought it amusing to give me the last name Hopper. Then I turned twelve and Carston requesting the presence of his little Hopper took on a completely different meaning. After fleeing the orphanage, I couldn’t afford a name change. By the time I could, my name as a singer was established enough that changing it would have harmed my fledgling career more than it was worth. And so it stayed.
Dana listened quietly to Mr. Myers’ response, her gaze never leaving mine. My heart pounded into my throat while I awaited the verdict.
Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, Mr. Myers.” She ended the com and straightened in her chair. “Well, it seems you have your wish, Ms. Hopper. Mr. Myers will see you immediately. Please proceed to Elevator One, and I will grant you access to the penthouse.” She gestured toward the left side of the reception desk.
Relieved, I beamed at her. “Thank you… Thank you very much, Ms. Brooks.”
Dana’s face softened as she smiled back. “Good luck, Ms. Hopper.”
I’m going to need a fuck-ton of it too.
Negotiating wasn’t my thing. I didn’t know shit about it. Contracts, management, making deals, Marcus always took care of that crap. My strength was performing. Put me on stage, tell me what kind of show you wanted, and I’d rock the house. I loved the eyes of the public on me, making them drool and go wild. That, I could handle. A ruthless business shark like Anton Myers was a completely different challenge. It scared the living daylights out of me.
I swallowed past the lump lodging in my throat every time I thought of Marcus. He was my best friend. My only friend. How could he have abandoned me like this? Nothing made sense. Without him, I felt lost. It was pathetic that at twenty-two, I should be so helpless without someone looking after me.
But now wasn’t the time to dwell on my former lover.
I followed the spotless white and chrome hallway beside the reception desk. Five elevators numbered two to eleven stood on each side of the corridor. In the center, at the end of the corridor, Elevator One, framed with luminescent tribal patterns, beckoned me. The doors opened at my approach and closed behind me as soon as I stepped inside. Without any input from me, the car ascended to the penthouse.
The doors opened onto a stern looking middle-aged man. His informally chic attire didn’t hide the muscular body underneath. Everything about him screamed former mercenary or space pirate.
“Ms. Hopper, if you would follow me,” he said, waving me i
n.
Without waiting for my response, he started down the hallway left of the sumptuous living area. After knocking on a closed door at the end, he opened it and walked in first.
“Ms. Hopper is here to see you.”
“Thank you, William,” a deep, gravelly voice said.
As soon as I entered, William walked out, closing the door behind him without giving me a chance to thank him. I swallowed and looked at the massive man sitting behind the desk. Obsidian eyes slowly undressed me before locking with mine. The intensity of his stare felt like a punch in the gut. I averted my eyes, unable to withstand his gaze. A strange smirk stretched his lips. I couldn’t tell if it was mocking or pleased.
The air filtering vent whispered above my head while I withstood Mr. Myers’ examination. He pointed at a chair. “Have a seat, Ms. Hopper.”
Grateful for the opportunity to get off my trembling legs, I obeyed. The empire red leather and mahogany chair was both beautiful and comfortable. Only Anton Myers could afford such extravagant Terran antiques. I crossed my legs demurely and folded my hands on my lap.
Why couldn’t this be an audition?
Then I wouldn’t be such a nervous wreck. Performing was my life. If the judges didn’t like my performance, they only needed to tell me what was wrong, what they wanted, and I’d do it. I liked following orders. It was easy – no need to think, worry or second guess your choices; just do.
“Let me guess, Ms. Hopper; you need help dealing with the… unpleasant situation your agent has left you in.” It wasn’t a question.
My eyes widened. “How do you—?”
“I make it my business to know what happens on my space station, Ms. Hopper.”
“O–Of course, you would.” With that one sentence, Anton managed to throw me completely off my already shaky game. “So, you understand my situation?”
Anton leaned back and, with his elbows on the armrests, pressed his fingertips together. “I understand your boyfriend dumped you. He left behind a large debt his creditors expect you to pay on his behalf… immediately.”
I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “He’s not my boyfriend,” I said in a small voice.
Anton narrowed his eyes. “Since when?”
“A–A while,” I said, unnerved by the curtness of his voice. “At least a year.”
Anton’s brutish face twisted in anger. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”
Anton Myers was not a handsome man. The hybrid son of a human woman and a Braxian male, he greatly favored his father. A prominent forehead and thick brow ridge gifted him with a permanent scowl. His broad nose was flatter than a human’s and his jutting square jaw was wider. Anton’s one redeeming facial trait was his mouth; plump, perfectly drawn lips. He wasn’t repulsive, but he would never win a beauty contest. And right now, his anger intimidated the hell out of me.
“I’m not lying.”
He was out of his chair in an instant, circling the desk to tower over me. I gaped up at him, my blood rushing through my veins. How could I forget how ridiculously tall and large Anton was? I had to lie back in my chair to look up at his face, my ankle brushing against his leg.
“Barely six months ago, I saw you with Marcus Gayle on Lilith Hive. You seemed quite cozy then and he claimed you as his woman.”
“I promise, Mr. Myers, we were no longer together then. Marcus said it would stop customers harassing me.” I breathed heavily, my pulse racing.
Anton’s features lost their angry edge. Tension bled out of him while his eyes roamed like a caress over my body. Leaning down, he rested his large hands on the armrests of my chair, his face inches from mine. My breath caught in my throat. I felt like a rabbit caught in the snares of a predator.
His eyes bore into mine. “Do you know the size of his debt, Ms. Hopper?”
“Ten… Ten million credits.”
He snorted. “That was two weeks ago. The loan sharks have a ten percent interest rate per week once you miss your payment date. The debt is now over twelve million credits.”
My breath rushed out of me. How was I ever going to repay that? Convincing Anton to front me ten million had already seemed like an unlikely sale, but twelve?
“Assuming I decide to help you out of this predicament,” Anton said, his eyes studying every inch of my face, “how do you intend to repay me?”
For the hundredth time since the thugs barged into my hotel room, I kicked myself for bailing on my contract negotiation meetings. It was mind-numbingly boring. With Marcus taking care of me, it had been a non-issue. That also meant I was clueless as to what kind of numbers I brought in.
“I was hoping you’d let me perform for you in one of your venues. You would keep all the proceeds, minus whatever minimum I need for food and lodging. I draw good crowds—”
Anton threw his head back and laughed. Loudly. He straightened, shaking his head at me like I had lost my mind. He sauntered over to his mini-bar. While he poured a couple of drinks, I stared at his back, unable to decide if I felt more confused or offended. I was a good singer with a large following.
“Ms. Hopper, your ‘performances’ wouldn’t generate enough revenue to repay me in ten lifetimes.”
I fisted my hands, outraged. “My performances kept Marcus and me living in comfort for years!”
He finished preparing the drinks and prowled towards me, his gait fluid and confident. I reluctantly took the glass he offered, fighting the urge to throw it at his smirking face.
“No, it hasn’t,” Anton said. He leaned against the edge of his desk, his tight t-shirt stretching over his chest. “You have a decent voice, but what you do on stage isn’t singing. You draw crowds because you handle your mic like a stiff cock and every male in the audience fantasizes it’s theirs.”
My face heated. Marcus spent a lot of time showing me how to move on stage to arouse my audience. It bothered me at first because it didn’t feel so much like singing as it did stripping, but it drew a lot of people. In no time, teasing and flirting with my fans became a turn on. Over the years, Marcus taught me to find a lot of things normal.
“People don’t pay for fantasies unless they come true,” Anton said. “You attracted crowds that paid very little to see you, but paid much more for the extras that your boyfriend provided – mainly illegal recreational drugs and black market goods.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue with me,” Anton said. “I never talk out of my ass. If you had listened to me when I told you to wake up six months ago, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
Anton downed the contents of his glass in one shot and went back to his mini-bar for a refill. The first time I met Anton was on the Lilith Hive pleasure barge where Marcus had managed to book me a few shows. It was one of the seven entertainment space stations of Anton’s Hive Network. Back then, although I still hadn’t managed to perform in one of the elite venues, we were living large. While looking for Marcus during the grand opening of a new club, I ran into Anton. I had been thrilled to meet the big boss until he started giving me speeches. According to him, I lived an illusion and needed to learn the business of being an artist. Otherwise, sooner or later, I would find myself out in the cold and starving. I dismissed him as a prophet of doom.
Hindsight is a bitch.
“If you won’t take my singing as repayment, what else would you accept to help me? I need this.”
Anton gave me a cold stare. “You know exactly what the price is. Let’s stop playing games, Ms. Hopper and speak terms instead.”
Yeah, I had known the price all along. However, if he made the demand rather than me offering, I could accuse him of being a bastard rather than call myself a whore. With a stiff nod, I downed the glass of brandy. It burned going down, and I couldn’t hold back a cough.
Can’t even handle my damn liquor.
“What are your terms?” I asked, my eyes cast down.
“Six months, anything I want.” His sharp tone made it clear there would be no negotiatio
n.
My jaw dropped. “Six months? That’s crazy!”
His face hardened. “You’re in serious need of a reality check, little girl. The debt is twelve million credits – that’s two million a month to spread your legs and do what you’re told. Even our highest paid escort doesn’t earn that much. Is your pussy made of gold?”
The comment made me flinch. He was right; I hadn’t thought this through – I never did. All things considered, this was an extremely generous offer. I just never realized it would be for this long. The problem was, I had dependence issues. While I embraced my sensuality, I found it hard to separate intimacy and emotions. Hence I didn’t sleep around. I got too easily attached. Six months was a long time to belong to someone and still look at them as a business arrangement, especially because Anton wasn’t a man to become attached to.
Anton downed his second glass and slammed it on the mini-bar.
“My offer is non-negotiable. You can take it or leave it. The door is right there,” Anton said, pointing at it. “Good luck finding a better offer elsewhere.”
I shifted in my chair, knowing there were no better offers. In my desperation, I had knocked on every other door.
“Of course… I–I understand, but… What does ‘anything you want’ actually mean?”
His eyes roamed over my body again. “Exactly what I said; anything I want.”
“I’m not into that BDSM stuff,” I said, shrinking into myself.
Instead of the angry outburst I expected, his expression softened. “I doubt you even know what you like, but I intend to find out.” Anton walked over and lifted my chin before running his thumb over my lips. His touch was incredibly soft for such large, calloused hands. “You will give me anything I want, Grace, and that includes your obedience at all times, whatever the order, or face punishment. Do we have an agreement?”