by B. B. Hamel
I smile at that. “You have a butler.”
“I have a butler.”
“A cranky, old butler.”
“It’s a regular British estate.” He grins at me. “Want a tour?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well, right this way, miss.” He offers his arm and I take it with a laugh.
The whole house is actually six townhouses in one, three on the front block and three on the back. There are ten bedrooms and fifteen bathrooms plus a gym, an indoor pool, a large entertainment room, a small theater, and more. Ethan almost seems embarrassed as he walks me through the place, like the extravagance is too much.
Truthfully, it almost is too much. There’s more money in this house than I’ll ever see in a lifetime, or at least that was the case before I landed this job. I know people that live on less per year than he has invested in end tables.
It’s mind-boggling. The comfort, the wealth, the power, I just can barely understand it all. I’m exhausted and it’s late at night, probably around two in the morning, and I feel like I’m running on fumes.
We finish back up in the main living room. “So, what do you think?” he asks.
“It’s... big,” I say.
He laughs. “I know. It’s absurd.”
“Do you use it all?”
“Hardly,” he admits. “I’m barely even here to be honest. I have guests staying here all the time and the place is mostly for them.”
“So you live in a hotel.”
He laughs, pouring himself a drink. “Pretty much.” He gestures at the bottle of whisky. “Want one?”
“Sure,” I say, although I don’t like whisky. He pours and hands me the glass. I accept it and sip it.
He laughs at the face I make. “You don’t have to drink that if you don’t want it,” he says.
“I’m sorry. I’m not much of a whisky drinker.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He takes the glass from me and pours it into his, making it a double.
“I guess I’m not sure how to act in this situation.”
“I know. Strange, right?” He shrugs, sipping his whisky. “Just be yourself. What do you like to drink, anyway?”
“Wine,” I say. “Anything white.”
“Perfect. I have two thousand bottles.”
“Seriously?”
He laughs. “Seriously. Like I said, it’s a hotel.” He walks to the refrigerator, opens a small drawer toward the bottom, and pulls out a white. He opens the bottle, pours me a drink, and hands me the glass.
“Cheers,” he says. He clinks and sip. I look around the room, wondering how the hell I found myself in this situation.
I don’t belong here. Jenkins must have seen through me the second I walked through that door. He knows that I’m trash, that I don’t belong in a place like this with a man like Ethan.
Worse, maybe Jenkins knows what I am. That I’m a hooker for Ethan. That he bought and paid for me and now I’m contractually obligated to do whatever Ethan wants.
Not that I really mind, to be truthful. I would have gone home with Ethan for free if he wanted me. But with the money involved, things are different. I know I need to please him, but I’m not sure how to go about doing that.
“Come on,” he says finally. “Let’s go to your room. It’ll be ready by now.”
I reach down and grab my bag but he waves me off. “Jenkins will bring that up. Come on.”
I frown, leaving the bag, and follow him. We go back upstairs, but instead of moving down the guest wing like last time, he leads me to the right and down a short hallway.
“So, this is my private wing,” he says. “The door at the far end is my room. And this is yours.” He stops in front of a door with the number two on the front.
“The second room,” I say, smiling. “Very clever.”
He shrugs, grinning. “Easier this way.” He opens the door and we step into the room.
It’s gorgeous. There’s a bathroom on the left as we walk inside. In the center of the room is a large four-poster bed. There’s a small fireplace with a fire burning in it, a television with a couch in front of it, a small table, and another room toward the back.
“Bed, bathroom, living room, and there’s an exercise room off the back,” he says. “Balcony too, if you want to use it.”
“You really do live in a hotel,” I say, laughing. “But the nicest hotel I’ve ever seen.”
He grins. “Glad you like it. You’ll be in here for your stay.” He walks over to the dresser and picks up a phone. “Use this to call down to the kitchen. There’s someone on staff twenty-four seven, so if you’re ever hungry, just call and ask. You can also request laundry service or cleaning if you want. Really, call and ask for whatever and Jenkins will make it happen.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “I bet he’ll conveniently forget my requests.”
“Probably,” Ethan says, grinning.
I walk over to the bed and run my hand down the comforter. It’s beautiful and soft, the sort of bed I’ve always dreamed about as a little girl.
“This is too much,” I say finally. “Really, Ethan. I can stay in something simpler.”
“I’m contractually obligated to provide you with all of this,” he says, and walks over to me. “Besides, I want to spoil you.”
I turn toward him, my heart beating fast, and I take a sip of my wine to cover my embarrassment.
“It’s why you’re here,” he says to me, stopping close. “I want to spoil you rotten, Aria. I want to give you things. But most of all, I want to make you feel things you never expected.”
“Like what?” I ask, a little breathless.
He steps close to me, his body inches from mine. His hand rests on the small of my back as his lips come closer to mine. I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead he veers to the side, stopping next to my ear.
“If you have to ask, you’re not ready to hear the answer,” he says softly, and I feel a chill run down my spine.
He pulls back, giving me this devilish smile, and I want him to come back. I want him to tell me what he’s going to make me feel. I’m flushed and excited, and I can feel my pussy is already tingling and dripping wet. It’s crazy that I feel this way. It’s supposed to be just a job, but Ethan isn’t work. He’s charming and gorgeous.
“Good night,” he says, turning away.
“Wait,” I say. “Don’t you...?”
“What?” he asks, cocking his head.
I looked away, frowning. “Nothing.”
He walks toward the door and I watch him go, wishing he’d stay. As he opens it, he pauses and turns back to me.
“Oh sorry, I do have one rule for you. Stay in this room. If you want to leave it, you have to get permission from me. Understood?”
“Okay,” I say, nodding.
“I won’t keep you prisoner, of course. And if you want books, magazines, movies, a computer, anything, just ask. But don’t leave without permission.”
I nod. “Thanks,” I say.
“Sleep tight, Aria.”
He leaves the room before I can respond.
I down my wine, place the glass on a side table, and then collapse onto the enormous bed. I burrow down into the covers, put my face in the beautiful and immaculate pillow, and I scream.
I can’t believe that I’m here. I laugh and scream into the pillow and laugh some more, completely overwhelmed with my situation. Once I get that out of my system, I quickly explore the room. The gym in the back is pretty nice with a treadmill, a little TV, some weights, and a bench press. The balcony overlooks the city and I realize that I’m on the third floor. The view is incredible.
I step back inside and notice that my bags were discreetly delivered while I was outside on the balcony. I walk over to them and begin to unpack, frowning at my meager possessions.
I don’t know what I want or what I’m going to do, but I have to try and enjoy this. Ethan could still be some kind of serial killer or something like that, but I
doubt it. I think the real problem is, I can’t believe that I’m in this place and with this man, and I don’t think I deserve any of it.
But if I get through it, I’ll make over a million dollars. If I live frugally and am smart, I can be set for life. I can afford to go to nursing school, or even go all the way back and start at the beginning to become a doctor.
Anything is possible after this. I just need to figure out Ethan and give him what he likes.
Because there was one clause in that contract that’s been bothering me since I signed. One very important clause.
If I don’t please him, The Syndicate won’t pay me.
Ethan gets a partial refund. But The Syndicate won’t give me a dime. Even if there are still hundreds of thousands, I won’t see a dime if I don’t please him.
I climb into bed, trying to figure him out. I need to start being better at this and fast. So far, I’ve been myself, which is dorky and clumsy and stupid. I need to up my game and work on him.
But for now, I’ll just enjoy this the best I can. In the morning, I’ll see what I can do.
5
Ethan
I finish cooking the eggs and plate them on the large platter. My cook, Michelle, looks on from the counter, smiling and sipping her coffee.
“This is a first,” she says as I finish up. “You cooking and me watching.”
“You’re enjoying this too much,” I say.
She shrugs. Michelle is in her fifties, rotund and possibly my favorite person in the world. She’s been working for me ever since I started making serious money, about two years before Jenkins came. I don’t know how I could manage my life without her. It’s very rare that I want to actually cook for myself, but when I do she’s always around for a chat and some tips. I haven’t cooked anything in a couple years, though. I’ve been too busy.
Today feels different, though. It’s around six in the morning and I know Aria is probably asleep, so I want to surprise her. I’m not sure why. I just want to spoil her.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you cook, that’s all,” she says. “Cooking is good for you. Good for the spirit.”
“Of course you’d say that,” I respond, grinning.
“Look at you. You’re practically glowing.” She leans toward me over the counter. “I assume this is all for her.” She gives me a knowing look.
“Gossip moves fast, I see,” I say, frowning.
“What can I say, Ethan. You brought a woman home.”
“So? I bring women home all the time.”
“But they don’t stay until the next morning. And they definitely don’t get the second best room in the house.”
I sigh, not wanting to engage in this, but I do need to say something. Aria is going to be in the house for the next month and the staff is going to be curious.
I trust all of them. They’ve had opportunities to spread gossip in the past, but they never have. The ones that were more loose-lipped were fired a long time ago, and things are in a very good place right now. But still, I need to tell them something.
“Her name is Aria,” I say. “And she’s going to be staying here for a month.”
Michelle looks surprised, her eyebrows raised in little arches. “A month?”
“One month. The staff is to treat her as if she owns the place. Any request will be granted. Understood?”
She nods, a bewildered smile on her face. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”
I sigh. “Just be good to her, okay?”
She nods, face softening. “I’ll make sure she feels welcome.”
“Thank you.” I put a cup of coffee on the tray and heft it up in my arms. I carry it over to a little cart, put it down, and head over to the elevator. I hear Michelle getting started on the dishes, which makes me smile. There are some nice perks to being rich.
I get into the service elevator and ride it up to the third floor. I feel like a bellhop as I wheel the cart down my own hallway, stopping outside of Aria’s door. I knock softly then open the door. I wheel the cart inside and shut the door behind me.
Aria is sitting up in bed, sheets wrapped around her, and I stop for a second, taken by her. The night before she was all done up for the auction and was absolutely gorgeous, but this morning she looks simply like herself. Her hair is a bit messy and she’s not wearing any makeup.
And she’s beautiful. Fucking gorgeous. She smiles slightly which makes my heart race as I wheel the food into the main room, stopping next to her bed.
“Good morning,” she says.
“Morning.” I gesture at the tray. “Breakfast in bed.”
Her smile gets bigger. “Is this going to be a normal thing?”
I shrug and cross my arms. “It can be, if you want.”
She looks at me strangely. “I don’t understand this.”
“What’s confusing about breakfast?”
“I mean...” She trails off. “All of this.” She gestures at the room. “Why give me this?”
I smile at her and sit on the edge of the bed. I reach out and gently run my fingers through her hair. She watches me with her gorgeous wide eyes.
“I told you,” I say softly. “I want to spoil you.”
“I don’t mind being spoiled.” She smiles.
“I’m going to keep you in here. In this room. And I’m going to spoil you as much as I can.”
“If that’s what you want,” she says softly, watching me.
“You’re my pet now, Aria,” I say. “I’m going to keep you in this little cage and use you however I want.”
“Okay,” she says, practically a whisper. I can feel excitement coursing through my body and as I look at her, I wonder if she feels the same thing.
Her face looks excited. I can see a slight flush in her cheeks and her breath comes quickly. But I don’t know if that’s because she wants me as much as I want her, or if it’s because she’s just good at what she does.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
“It smells really good,” she says.
“I made it myself, actually.”
“Really?” She laughs lightly and takes the mug of coffee from the tray. “A rich man that cooks and looks good in the morning.”
I laugh and take the second mug, sipping the coffee. “I do what I can.”
“I could get used to it.”
“Good. That’s what I want.” I nod at the food. “Go ahead and eat.”
She reaches out and takes a piece of toast, biting down into it. She chews for a second and seems to realize that she’s actually hungry as she reaches out for a fork.
“I have to go to work soon,” I say. “You’ll be stuck in this room all day.”
“That’s okay,” she says. “It’s a big room.” She eats some eggs and smiles huge. “This is really good.”
“Butter,” I say. “And a little whole milk.”
She laughs. “You really are spoiling me.”
“Only way to make eggs.” I grin at her. “Like I said last night, you can have whatever you want. But you still have to get permission to leave this room from me directly. Understand?”
“Okay,” she says. “That’s fine.”
“Good.” I watch her eat for a moment, trying to see past her exterior. I can’t tell if she’s enjoying it or if she’s eating just to please me.
That’s going to be the problem. I’m going to have to be on my game when it comes to her if I want to really see past her acting. She’s meant to do everything she can to please me, which means she’s going to suppress her own desires to do what I want.
To an extent, I expect that. I expect her to obey my rules. But I don’t want her to simply do what she thinks I want her to do.
I need her to want this. That brings me more pleasure than she could possibly know.
I stand up and she watches me as I move across the room. “Have a good day, my pet,” I say to her. I watch her reaction to the little nickname, and smile with satisfaction.
She clearly doesn’t li
ke it.
“Have a good day,” she says.
I cock my head at her, grinning, but decide not to say anything. I turn and head back out into the hallway, smiling to myself.
She’s already acting, but I can see through some of it. I’m going to figure her out and soon I’ll give her exactly what she wants. She won’t be able to resist showing herself to me.
Only when she’s completely stripped bare in front of me will I finally give her that she really needs. I grin to myself and can’t think about anything else on the entire trip into the office.
6
Aria
I lean back against the headboard as soon as Ethan leaves the room, ignoring the food beside me. It’s not that I don’t like breakfast, I just don’t normally eat much in the morning. I finish the toast and coffee at least before wheeling the cart back out into the hallway. I’m careful not to actually leave the room as I push it outside.
Once that’s done, I go into the bathroom and start the shower. It’s a gorgeous bathroom with a full vanity, whirlpool tub, and huge shower. Everything is tiled in beautiful mosaic patterns, and part of me feels like the toilet itself should be solid gold.
It’s not, of course, and I get into the shower to wash myself. I feel like I’m cleaning days’ worth of grime from my body even though I showered the night before, just as the auction was about to begin.
Showers can be hard for me sometimes. It feels good, but it’s strange. I can still remember waking up in a shower, half naked, my body bruised and battered and wondering where the hell I am. That was one of the lowest points in my life when I realized what I did just to score some drugs.
It was lying on the floor of that shower, half conscious of what had happened, that I realized I was at rock bottom. It was the lowest point of my life. And I can’t help but think about it every time I get in the shower.
I’m disgusted by the person I was. I’ve been clean for two years and have no plan to go back, but I still feel that stupid junky deep inside of me, begging to get out.
I made mistakes. I’ve been weak and frail and stupid before. But I pulled myself up off that shower floor, got the fuck out of that house, and checked myself into a rehab treatment facility.