Kept by the Cowboy

by Sasha Gold

  We drive in silence for a while. She’s giving me the cold shoulder and I don’t like it. I might not allow myself to touch her, but I need something from her, some connection.

  “One day you’ll thank me, Leah. You were going to sit there and let everyone walk all over you and play it safe for the rest of your life. Let Miranda dole out a few crumbs for you here and there. Now you’ll have your own money.”

  She says nothing but keeps her gaze fixed out the window. The miles pass, one after the other, and she refuses to speak or even look at me. I take a bottled water out of the fridge and drink it. I want to offer her one, or a cocktail or anything really because I fucking hate that she won’t speak to me. Suddenly I’m envisioning weeks of stony silence. Not only would that suck, but it wouldn’t result in my carrying my bride off to bed. It would result in her leaving. I want her to stay around long enough for me to scratch this itch. Once I get her out of my system I might let her go. Maybe.

  “Want some water, Leah?”

  Silence.

  “Some more wine, maybe. In the restaurant, you were on your way to getting loaded. I have wine, beer, hard stuff?”

  Nothing. Leah’s good. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness and I can see the silhouette of her feminine form.

  “Ever done it in a limo?”

  She huffs. “No, have you?”

  Victory. I resist the urge to chuckle. “Not with a redhead.”

  I can make out a small movement as she shakes her head with disgust.

  She probably thinks I’ve had a different woman every night. I haven’t. I’m joking about the redhead. Completely. I’ve lived like a monk ever since I said good-bye to her at the end of our travels. Celibacy made me the meanest mother fucker to step into a ring. Not just staying away from sex, but staying away from the only woman I ever wanted. And now she’ll be in the same house with me? That will be pure torture. All I can do is pray that she’ll stick around after the last fight because I have something I’ve been saving up just for her.

  “Are you expecting me to sleep with you?” she asks quietly.

  “The contract is for you to stay with me till the fight. You don’t need to stay longer if you don’t want to, and we wouldn’t have sex before the fight.”

  “But we would after?”

  “Your call.”

  “What if I say no?”

  I tap my fingers on the leather seat. That possibility hadn’t occurred to me. The fight is in exactly four weeks, and I assumed by then I would have worn down her defenses. I know she wants me. I’m good at reading people and even though all I do with Leah is text her, I can tell she wants me. It’s sweet, the little crush she has on me.

  I have some fascination with her too, nothing like a crush. No rainbows and butterflies, more like a deep, primitive hunger. When I go to events and I’m alone, I don’t notice the women preening. They try to give me their number or hotel key and I refuse.

  Rubbing the back of my neck I feel my muscles tighten with tension. Leah is all I want. I shouldn’t crave and need this girl like I do, but I’m done trying to figure it out.

  “If you don’t want to sleep with me then we won’t,” I tell her, finally.

  Lurid images drift through my mind. I want to carry her off tonight. Throw her over my shoulder and haul her to my room. Keep her there for days of hard, savage sex.

  “If I don’t come to your bed would you take some other woman?” she asks.

  “Of course not.” I grit my teeth. This girl.

  “I’m sure women throw themselves at you.”

  That’s putting it mildly. Women have a thing for fighters apparently.

  “Well?” she asks. “Do women pursue you?”

  “They do. It’s true. They like what they see. What’s on the outside. And it’s all sorts of women. Debutantes want to fuck bad boys so they can tell their friends. Hookers want to fuck a high roller so they can cash in. Down-on-their-luck girls want to fuck in exchange for a meal ticket.”

  I never talk this way to a woman. My foster parents, George and Emily, always told me that you can say what you want to a man, but you address women with respect. I’m pretty sure both of them would have something to say about my language not to mention the whole kidnapping thing. Neither of them knows anything about my feud with Dane Mathews.

  She’s gone silent again. I’m not used to this from her. I’m used to quiet adoration. Sweetness and light, not fury. I have fans, of course, but they either love me a little too much or turn on me at the drop of the hat. Leah…she’s always been my constant support. My safe harbor. All those silly texts over the years kept me going, kept my eyes on the prize because the prize was her. But now she’s pissed. I’m not surprised, but I don’t like it.

  “I never took any of those women up on their offers, Leah.”

  “Pfft…right.”

  “What about you? Cute little thing like you. I know for a fact you never date, or, at least not seriously. Why’s that?”

  “I had opportunities. But I never acted on them.”

  My breath stalls in my lungs. I wish I’d left the light on because I want to see her face right now. Leah is…a virgin. I can’t help but smile. Sweet Leah is innocent.

  When I was in high school and later during college, I played the field every chance I got. I slept with a lot of women. If I wanted a fuck, I found a fuck. All that stopped the minute I met Leah. We only spent a few days together but that time rewired something inside me. She was seventeen when I met her and by that age, most girls have messed around already. But she hadn’t. Some primal part of me wants to snarl and beat my chest. She’s mine. All mine.

  Her first time is going to be with me. She’s already in love with me and I’m going to make her forget how I stole her away, how I started the fire and burned her bridges for her. Then I’ll show her how she belongs to me and always has.

  The limo slows and I look out the window to see that we’re home. “You’re not going to run off when the driver opens the door, are you?” I ask.

  “I’m sure you’d catch me.”

  “I would.”

  “I’m not running. I can’t go back. Not now.”

  “So you agree. You’ll do this?”

  “If it means you’ll stop fighting.”

  “It does.”

  “Then we have a deal.”

  I hear the defeat in her voice and I know I’m the cause. I fucked up things with her family. Her stepmother will open the newspaper tomorrow and Leah and my picture will be on the front page. Even now it’s all over social media, I’m sure of it. Reporters always asked me about my love interest. It was the first question whenever I granted one of those pricks an interview. I always told them it was a mystery woman and I wouldn’t reveal her name.

  Now they know.

  Now the whole world knows.

  Chapter Five

  Leah

  The driver pulls the car to the entrance of Riley’s home. Lanterns flicker and cast soft light across the cobbled drive and illuminate the front entrance where several ladies, clad in black and white maid’s uniforms, wait. His staff. Stunned, I gape for a moment. Riley has housekeepers. The guy who was once a ward of the state, has maids.

  His circumstances shouldn’t be a surprise. Not really. He’s worth millions now and he will have all the trappings of wealth. And it’s not like I’ve never been around housekeepers. We have help too. I just hadn’t imagined the details of his life and it never dawned on me that I would ever step foot on his property. The driver stops the limo, gets out and opens the door. Riley gets out and holds out his hand for me.

  He’s watching me, waiting for a response.

  I get out and speak softly, “You have a lovely home.”

  “We have a lovely home.”

  Right. Business partners. I forgot about that for a moment.

  He tugs my hand to lead me up the steps and introduces me to the three staff. One of them is a cook and two keep house and all of them regard me with a
mazement. Like he’s never brought a woman into his home. Maybe it’s true that he doesn’t have a ton of women around.

  I walk with him, hardly able to take it all in. Everything is surreal. My thoughts careen in my mind and I can hardly believe anything about what’s happened tonight.

  The house is spacious, the architecture Mediterranean. He shows me the downstairs, the kitchen, dining, an entertainment room, a library and various other rooms. He strides purposefully, a step or two ahead of me and I have the impression the house means nothing to him. Like he’s showing me everything and waiting for my approval. Dutifully, I murmur a word or two about how lovely everything is. And it is. Breathtaking. French doors open to the sprawling terrace. We walk out, my heels hit the stones with a piercing ring and we stop at the balustrade.

  The house is set on a ridge so I can see for miles. Moonlight bathes the countryside in silvery light. My eyes catch a narrow silver ribbon, a river making its way toward the horizon. We stand, side by side, but a few feet apart. Neither of us speaks. I’m imagining Miranda getting wind of what happened at the restaurant. If she knows, she’s probably spitting nails right about now.

  I turn to find Riley watching me.

  “You’re not freaking out as badly as I imagined,” he says.

  “Oh, I’m freaking out all right. The one man I’ve ever really had a relationship with has just kidnapped me, crushed my heart, and is blackmailing me into a fake marriage. He just destroyed any hope I had of getting along with what remains of my family. I’m freaking out, Riley, it’s just that I hold it in and if I decide to freak out I always freak out on the inside first.”

  He smiles and maybe it’s the moonlight but I almost smile back at him. Then I remember I’m angry and I swat his shoulder. It’s like swatting a wall of cinder blocks.

  “Am I supposed to wear this until the fight?” I gesture to my dress.

  His eyes rake down the front of my body. I hate how my senses respond to him. My skin tingles. My breathing hitches. Arousal flares and heats every part of me.

  “I have clothes for you.” His tone is soft and seductive.

  Warning bells clang. I’m imagining him picking out lingerie, stockings, baby dolls, the whole kept woman ensemble. “What kind of clothes?”

  “The stuff you like. I don’t remember. I had my assistant order it.”

  I walk around the patio. A flight of stairs leads to a pool below and the water shimmers like a swath of diamonds.

  “How did you know what size I am?”

  He follows me, nudging me the direction of the stairs. “I bribed a maid at your house to go through your closet and tell me what you had.”

  I stop at the bottom of the steps. “Which maid?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t reveal my sources.”

  Which one of Miranda’s staff spied on me and went through my belongings? I try to picture which one of the ladies snooped while on Riley’s payroll. The weight of the ring on my hand reminds me of the scope of his prying. He had to know my ring size when he bought this monstrosity. That thought hadn’t occurred to me till now. I’m a little troubled, but I’m struck too, by how much planning he put into this. I walk to the pool and stand at the edge. A waterfall gurgles, disturbing the water and streaks of moonlight dart along the pool floor.

  I turn to him. “Miranda might not ever speak to me again. I’m not sure why that bothers me, but it does. She’s ambitious and harsh, but she’s all I have aside from Dane.”

  Earlier he said something about the house being ours and I hold my breath, wondering if he might say something about us being together in that way. Like a family. Instead, he scans the landscape. God, I’m pathetic. Going hat in hand, asking for some scrap of affection from a man who just abducted me. Everything about tonight is the end result of a plan set in motion weeks or months ago and, while I admire the planning, I’m don’t understand the motive.

  It’s no surprise this is all set up. He’s a machine who knocks out goals, each one bigger and more impressive than the last. The idea is crazy and it will cost me everything I have, but I’ll come out of it with money of my own and a promise from Riley that he won’t fight again.

  The money will be nice. Different. But the idea that he won’t step into a ring again is what makes this worth everything. I should hate him for what he did, but I can’t. I’ve always wandered, a little aimlessly, but suddenly my focus is sharp, to help Riley. To keep him from his self-destructive ways, even if he doesn’t care for me, I’ll make sure he won’t hurt himself in the ring.

  “I have a contract for you to sign,” he says.

  “Fine. Let’s have a look,” I shoot back.

  I can do this I tell myself. My last fundraiser netted over five and a half million dollars for wounded vets. I planned dinner for a thousand people, wrote letters to secure corporate sponsors and scored a former secretary of defense as a keynote speaker. I can make things happen and this is just another list of tasks.

  We return to the house and I follow him to his study. The contract reads that we’ll marry and after three months, if I do certain things, like live in his house, support him in public, attend his final fight and a few other things, he’ll pay me $500,000. He’s listed certain public events I need to attend before the fight. Three formal evening events, a photo shoot for some Italian cologne and a few other press events. After three months, the money is mine. And there is something strange in the contract too… If I fulfill my responsibilities, and later we separate, I receive additional funds to be agreed upon.

  “Additional funds?” I ask.

  He’s standing by the window, looking out. “That’s up to me, and it depends on how well you play your part.”

  “I’ll bet. What if I don’t want to leave?”

  He crosses the room and stops less than a foot away from me. His gaze is lit with molten lust, a smile curves his lips and he’s close, too close, but he doesn’t touch me. He’s invading my space. My body responds. Such betrayal. I want to show indifference, but it’s impossible. I’ve wanted him too long. I’m lost to him, swept away by a force I can’t understand.

  “If you don’t want to leave, then I suppose we’ll be married for real, and we’ll do the things husbands and wives do together.”

  Schooling my features, I try my best attempt at disdain and roll my eyes. He clenches his jaw and for an instant, I get a hint at what it might be like to oppose Riley. His eyes light with a cold gleam. He thinks he can get me to back down and that he’s going to run things.

  “Sign the paper, Leah.”

  “There’s nothing that says you have to quit fighting. If you don’t quit, I’ll tell everyone who will listen about what you’ve done. How you bullied me into this arrangement.” I hold up the contract. “I promise I won’t care if I go down too.”

  “You have my word that I’m going to quit fighting.”

  Nothing in his expression suggests he’s lying to me, but nothing about our dinner date suggested he was preparing to kidnap me and coerce me into marrying him.

  Taking a pen from his desk, I give the contract one last look over and sign it. I hand it back to him, feeling a little of my confidence seep back.

  “I better have my own room at the opposite side of the house from yours, Riley.”

  He glances at the contract and then gestures to the door. “You have your own room, sweetheart, but it’s beside mine.”

  I shake my head at this. This is going to be like arguing with a brick wall. That’s okay. Going a few rounds with Riley Tarrant might be just what I need. I’ll come out of this stronger. Fuck everyone who wants to use me. I follow him up a grand staircase and down a hall.

  He points to a door at the end of the hall. “That’s my room. In case you have any bad dreams, you can crawl into bed with me.”

  “Bad dream? You mean like where some bully carries me off? Destroys my reputation? Wrecks what’s left of my relationship with my family? That sort of bad dream?”

  He laughs
. “My door’s always open.”

  “I thought you didn’t fool around before a fight.”

  “I don’t. But that doesn’t mean you can’t come for a little visit.” He pushes the door open and ushers me into my room. It’s spacious with a king-sized bed and a sitting area by the windows. A vase of calla lilies sits on the bedside table. I’m so struck by the sight of them I stop and stare.

  When I tear my gaze from the flowers I look at Riley, but his expression reveals nothing.

  “You should find anything you need in the closet. If there’s something you want, I’ll have my assistant pick it up for you.”

  Opening the closet, I bite back any reply to his words. The implication is that I’m going to be kept here until the fight. He doesn’t want me going shopping on my own and possibly forgetting to come back. If I go anywhere, I assume it will be with Riley at my side, keeping a close eye on me.

  The closet light comes on automatically, revealing rows of pants, skirts, dresses, and tops. It’s a riot of colors but no red and no orange, bad colors for a redhead.

  I turn and I’m about to say something scathing, but the look on his face stops me. His gaze is gentle and he looks like he’s about to tell me something tender. My breath stalls in my lungs as it dawns on me that if he says something sweet to me, I’m gone. With a single, endearing word he’ll crush my defenses.

  “I’m going to bed, baby girl. You’re going to be good and stay in your room? Not going to try and run off?”

  “Oh, I plan to stay, Riley. First of all I have no place to go, but you knew that, of course. More importantly, I need to keep an eye on you. You’re my investment. I have a lot riding on you. I need to make sure you stick to the straight and narrow.”

  He walks into the closet, forcing me to retreat until I can’t go any further. I’m already trapped, but just to prove some point he places his hands on either side of me. He wants to make it perfectly clear who’s in control.