Stolen: A Dark Billionaire Romance

by Lana Hartley

  Maybe I'm being irrational. Or maybe he's the ass who thinks he owns me. He can't take over my life like this. I can't let him. Even if my shitty clothes don't make me happy, they're at least mine. I got them one day when I left the house because I didn't want the trashy stuff one of the women my father had fucked had left there at that house. That's not home to me either, but that was where I lived, and that was what I had to put up with. I don't want to have another person who thinks of me as property getting to dictate what I'm to wear.

  I grab something to wear and I close the closet door behind me, him on the other side of the door. I want a modicum of privacy. I can't take the way his eyes are looking at me. Thinking about all the things he's going to do to me. If I'm honest...I'm thinking about those things, too, and I don't want to deal with the weight of his gaze for just a few seconds. He doesn't open the door while I'm dressing, and when I step out to see him standing there, I'm frustrated but grateful I had the bathroom and this stolen moment in the closet alone. He pulls out his phone and answers a few pinging messages -- I'm not surprised how busy he is as I've read about his prolific business nature -- but he looks up at me, taking in the sight of me in my very crappy jeans. He looks like a million bucks...he may be wearing something that expensive as I know he wears Brioni. The fabric is so damned astounding to look at; I'm a little in awe. He's the only person I've seen, online or in person, I thought could adequately wear something that expensive and make it look just at home on him. He fucking exudes power. It wafts off him and envelopes me in the air around us. I can practically see a thick cloud of silvery gray fog wrapping me up and strangling me like spider's silk. I feel powerless next to his presence. How will I ever escape him? The nerves I felt before are minuscule in comparison to how I feel in these clothes. It feels demeaning to look this shitty in front of him. But I can't let him know that. I put my chin up a little higher than I feel like doing. I have to stay strong. Find my fire. Because the only fire I'm feeling is his. The heat around us that he brings. The dark power, the danger he emanates, is snuffing me out. I feel my lip tremble, just slightly. I curse my weakness because he notices. He brushes his thumb over my lip.

  Leah

  "Let's get you fed," Jacob says, shoving his phone into his jacket pocket and taking me out of the room with his arm on the small of my back. Smugly I wonder if he thinks he needs to do that because I might bolt. I almost laugh, absurdly thinking that I have to follow him since I don't know where the food is.

  I remember that he mentioned a maid, that she was going to help me with my clothes. Well, she was before I said that I didn't have a problem with my clothes and basically made it clear I had a problem with him getting me clothes. Still, it seemed like a wonderful thought that he might be able to provide me with someone else that was practically under his ownership. His maid. Someone that could be a person to talk to.

  Tatiana, I think her name was…

  And surely her loyalty was to her employer. He probably didn't own her. Or maybe he did. Maybe she's another virgin that he has holed up in his house. Maybe when he gets a new virgin, I'll be the new maid. Maybe it is all some twisted game.

  I can't think about any of this when I see the dining table adorned with every breakfast food that I've ever heard of and then several things that I don't recognize at all. The table is massive like something a castle would hold. He's got a seat set at one end of the table, and me at the other. It seems absurd that we should head a table so far away from each other, but I'm excited to have space. Of course, after I sit down, he sits in the seat next to me and starts on a cup of coffee I see that he drank some of earlier. The maid, I assume, brings it to him from that other room. I see her face redden, but if she feared some sort of admonishment, Jacob offers none. I realize that her eyes are following me. Maybe I am onto something with the maid theory. She is maybe ten years older than me, if that, and undeniably attractive. I feel a twinge of fear and then...and I'm ashamed when I realize it, jealousy. I tell myself that it's self-preservation. I don't want to be the maid, or something worse if Jacob decides that once I'm not a virgin, I'm not worth anything. I'm suddenly terrified, this woman watching me so intently, that I fear that if I let Jacob take my virginity that I'll immediately become worthless. And if I don't let him fuck me, and he really doesn't just rape and take it, maybe I'm still worthless. I take a too fast gulp of my orange juice before me, and I sputter some out. Jacob looks at me with what looks like genuine concern. That pisses me off. He doesn't get to look at me like that. Not when he’s the reason I'm a twig in the ocean, a soggy, shitty mess in the vastness of his infinite power. I feel the tears want to well up in my eyes. I can't let them. They're anger, but I'm sure he thinks they are sadness with the way he looks at me. It is almost like he actually gives a shit about how I feel, but I know he can't. If you care about people, you don't buy them. I hate that I'm born into this life, no matter. With my father, it hurts that the person who should care for me and love me is a worthless person who thinks I'm just a pawn. With a man who acts like I'm the most delicious thing he's ever put his mouth on, I'm a payment and a sex object. None of that translates into caring about how I feel. Not really.

  It's really foolish, but the girlish part of me hates that the person to whom I'll give my virginity is taking it, no matter what I say or do, because I'm never going to be touched by someone who cares about me. After the way I felt about what he was able to do to me, how he made me come, who knows if I could even enjoy sex ever again.

  I look at the maid, trying to ignore the way that Jacob is looking at me. He puts his hand over mine, and I don't want to look at him. "Don't fear me, Leah," he pleads. It is strange, but I want to believe the emotion I hear in his voice. I look away from the maid, who gives me a sweet smile. Huh?

  "Oh?" I say to Jacob, my mouth hanging open stupidly.

  "I know you're nervous. I want you to be comfortable. I know that you had a very cloistered life with your father. I know that this is all so strange. But I'm not trying to scare you. If you'd like to eat alone-"

  "Yes." I don't let him finish that sentence. I don't want any consideration. None of his platitudes or shitty attempts at comforting me. I want him to go away if he's willing to do that.

  He stands, taking his coffee with him. The maid walks toward me, and I feel confused as to how I'm supposed to talk to her. Does she know that I'm a prisoner? Is she a prisoner?

  "H-hi," I say to her. She starts to pour me a cup of coffee. "Thank you," I say, giving her the best smile I can manage.

  "Hello, Miss Leah," she says, smiling back at me. She starts to head out of the room, and I realize, I really don't want her to go. "Wait!" I say, a little too loud. She turns around with a sweet smile on her face. "Can you sit with me?"

  "You don't want to be alone?" she says. There seems to be more to what she's saying, but I don't quite get it. I just don't want to eat by myself when a seemingly nonthreatening person could possibly be a source of conversation. Maybe I am jealous or upset if there's something nefarious to her, but I think I can trust the maid. At least I can talk about something, anything, with her that might distract me from my current predicament.

  "No, I'd like if you could stay with me. Would that be all right?" I say in a calm, measured tone. I don't want to sound desperate. I don't know if this is even allowed or acceptable. Hopefully, I haven't done something to cross some invisible barrier or break some unknown rule. I let my mind wander for a moment to consider where Jacob has gone after he actually left to me to allow me to have breakfast without him there. I kind of thought he was going to stalk me until he could pounce on me and fuck me.

  I focus on eating instead.

  "Sure, I'll sit with you," the maid says. "I'm Tatiana.” I’m grateful she says her name again because I was struggling to remember it.

  "I'm Leah," I say, giving her my best normal smile. "How long have you worked for Mr. Renaud?" I ask and instantly regret it. What if she's a slave and I'm asking something horrible?
She seems so calm. Maybe she's been here a long time...

  "Five years now," she says with a smile. "I have a five-year-old boy, my son. Mr. Renaud, he helped me put him in a good school this year, and he hired me when I was pregnant."

  Wow. I don't know what to say that.

  "It isn't his baby!" She says with a laugh.

  I laugh, too, hoping to lighten the mood some. I realize I'm being moody and she's being cheery. "That's very kind of him."

  "Yes, Mr. Renaud is a very nice man," she says.

  I digest that for a moment while eating a crepe. I don't imagine anyone else in his life would ever say that. I know that he owns an empire and that he's taken down others with lesser claims to business thrones. I know that he did shady, underhanded shit with my shady, underhanded father. But he seems to have a soft spot for the maid, and that's nice. I wonder if he's slept with her, which makes me feel kind of gross for thinking about it. It is rude when she's been so nice to me from the start.

  "Do you have a picture?" I ask. "I'd love to see your little boy."

  She sits down and pulls out her phone and shows me an image of the cutest little boy I've ever seen. I've not really seen a lot of children in person, but he's definitely adorable. "What a little angel, he's precious." It's the truth.

  I feel a weird pang in my stomach. I wonder if I want children.

  I wonder if Jacob does. And if he expects me to have them.

  I take a huge gulp of coffee. These are so not the things that I want to think about. But I guess it is good that they're bugging me, because they're giving me the fuel to figure out how to get away from Jacob, away from everyone who tries to control me, and live my own life. I don't know exactly what I want, but I know that I want to make those decisions for myself.

  And now I know that while Tatiana is very kind, she's very loyal to Jacob. She has her reasons.

  And I have mine for not being. Tatiana is nice. She's someone I can talk to. But I won't be able to trust her. There's no way that she knows how Jacob brought me here -- that he bought me, accepted me as payment. And I get the feeling that if I told her, I'd be wasting my breath. She'd not believe me. Or maybe she wouldn't care. She has a son to worry about, and I’m not her problem.

  "Thanks for sitting with me," I say. I know I should make more conversation, but I have no idea what to say. Maybe I'd ask about her son, but what would I ask? I hope she volunteers something as a conversation topic, so I don't have to feel so awkward. Perhaps when I don't come up with a conversation topic, it will feel awkward already, but I'm certain that Tatiana has more experience with conversations than I do.

  "No problem, Leah, I know that you've been through a lot and it would be nice to have some company without pressure," Tatiana says. Her eyes tell me there's more she's not saying. Hmm. Maybe I can't count her out just yet, but I still am not going to jump off any cliffs to think that I can trust Jacob. Tatiana, as far as I know, is more like me than him. She's taking care of her son. I'm trying to take care of me. Jacob Renaud is trying to own me.

  "Yes, I hear that Jacob wants you to take me shopping today. I don't think I want to buy new clothes, though..." I shift in my seat. "I don't think so, anyway."

  "Oh, Leah, he's not going to expect any more from you than he already does. Plus, you'll need something to wear to the office. I put your clothes away. You have barely anything. Let me help you out today. We'll have fun. Maybe go to the spa? Mr. Renaud owns a lovely place, they will see us without appointments." Tatiana's warmth is contagious. Somehow, I feel more comfortable and calm than maybe I ever have. It makes me wonder what having a mother, or even a friend, is like. I already know that I can't resist Tatiana when she gives me a very insistent look.

  "Fine, that sounds pleasant," I say with a smile. "It can't hurt."

  He won't expect any more than he already does. Oh, Tatiana knows something. But what, I don't know. And she says that I'll need something for the office. So she knows that I'm to work for Jacob. She put my clothes into a master bedroom closet. Good lord, I wonder what in the hell she thinks is going on. This is all so abnormal. I can't imagine that she knows the truth, but I don't know what would make any sense as an explanation, either.

  Leah

  A spa day. Shopping. This is all so surreal.

  But I know this is all a distraction. I know Jacob's not going to expect any more than he already does...

  Because he expects to take my virginity. I guess tonight. I asked him to make me come when he was taking me away from my father, but now...do I want this?

  I know I do. But I'm terrified. I hate that I feel like I have to question my every thought. My world is getting bigger...and smaller, all at once. I'm not trapped at my father's house, but all I can think about now is the man who owns me. What he wants. What he'll do to me.

  Tatiana is looking up from her coffee cup with a well-manicured brow raised. She's thinking about something and leans forward when I meet her gaze and pull myself from my thoughts. "Mr. Renaud has given me a rather large list of things he wants me to help you with this month. Would it make you feel better if I shared it with you?"

  The remaining tension I felt breaks within me. "Thank you so much. I feel so...lost. It would help to see the list, yes." I'm so grateful for Tatiana, I decide. Trust isn't an all or nothing thing, is it? Do I need to trust her completely, or can I only trust parts of her? I know that I shouldn't feel safe with her because I know where her loyalties lie, but I need at least this idea of safety.

  Tatiana pulls her phone back out of her pocket and scrolls through a few things and brings up a list. It is long; I see when I start to look over it.

  She's supposed to help me with my wardrobe, take me to the gym, buy food that I like, help me choose a college...

  For a few moments, I'm excited that it sounds like I may have a real life. Not be sheltered and shut off anymore. But how can I be any of those things when Jacob owns me, he dictates and buys every portion of my life as well? I'm frustrated, but I don't want to tell Tatiana that now.

  "Sounds like we're going to be busy," I tell Tatiana, handing her phone back to her and taking a final sip of my coffee.

  "Yes, you are," Jacob says, reentering the room and making me jump enough to clank the now-empty coffee cup on the hard oak table. That sound only makes me jump more, and I imagine that I look as disheveled as I feel, like a bird with all ruffled feathers. How can he have this effect on me? So many effects on me...I think of what's to come. "I have a full day ahead as well, several deals to wrap up. I'm not going to come home tonight," Jacob says in a voice tinged with regret. He sounds like he's trying to sound calm and even, but I hear sadness coloring a voice I've only heard sounding ultra-confident before. He steps toward me and kisses me on the forehead. I turn to ice when he walks near me, but when his lips touch me, I stop breathing and the ice in my veins is now heat pooling in my belly. I hate myself for reacting this way to even the simplest of his touches. I try to push the thought away, and I see Tatiana is blushing. Perhaps she thinks she's witnessing some intimate moment.

  And perhaps everything was written all over my face. Goodness gracious, what crazy shit has my life come to now? I suck in my lips and try not to watch Jacob leave. I can't help but notice the way he moves so elegantly, and how he sucks all the air out of the room with his departure. I notice that his scent lingers, and it stirs something in me. His whole home smells like a fresh burning fire, leather, linen, such a different environment than my father's house. It always smelled like alcohol, cigars, and cheap perfume.

  Tatiana stands, and I do the same. She's looking at me strangely like she's sizing me up. "Haircut first," she says. No wonder she likes Jacob, she's bossy like him, too. Bossy seems like an understatement for Jacob...but I see the confidence they both have in their statements, and I feel like a small mousy girl all over again. "Just a trim," she says, reaching out and touching the end of my hair. "The length is beautiful, so is the color. But it needs more body." Her words are sweet,
and I think it would be nice to have a haircut. I've only had a few in my life, as my father rarely let me leave the house, he'd had a few women he dated that paid attention to my existence who wanted to play with me like I was a doll. But Tatiana feels sweeter than they were. She's not sleeping with my father either, so even if she likes Jacob Renaud; her judgment has to be better than those gold-digging bimbos my father dragged home.

  I've always thought my hair was dull. I look at Tatiana’s thick, curly black mane of hair and think it is a force to be reckoned with, yet mine is boring and stick straight. Still, I suppose with some professional help, I could have some actually glamorous hair. At least to get my hair cut I won't have to navigate a massive store or several, and try to figure out what to buy. Someone cutting my hair just requires me to sit still. I can do that.

  I stand there realizing I have no idea what to do with myself. I need to put on shoes. I can't drive. Will Tatiana drive?

  Tatiana looks at her phone. "The driver is ready for us, let's grab a coat and get you some shoes!" She's saying this with a cheery tone, and I don't know if she can see the lost-in-the-wilderness look on my face or she just happens to be saying what I need to hear to keep me grounded.