by C. C. Piper
So handling this guy would be worth it, if it saved Bella’s life. I just had to keep repeating that to myself.
The car began to slow as we turned on to Ocean Road and continued on Palisades Boulevard. The Bentley pulled to a stop. I focused on breathing, in and out. The driver got out. I started to fumble with the door, but then he was there, opening it for me. He held a hand out. I realized he was waiting to help me out of the car.
I took his hand and slowly stepped onto the pavement.
No one is making me do this. I can leave, I thought. I could take off these heels and I could walk right back out to the main road. I’d have to find a bus stop. Somehow, I doubted there were too many bus stops in Santa Monica, although I supposed that people like me — the waitresses and the house cleaners — would need a ride to work.
I could leave.
But I wasn’t going to.
All I had to do was picture Bella, lying in the hospital. Waiting on tests. Waiting on doctors. Waiting on a donor.
Money couldn’t fix her kidney. But it sure could make her life a lot easier until she got one. Even if she made a full recovery, the medical bills would bury us. I would have to drop out of college and start working more hours. I might have to file for bankruptcy. We might lose the apartment.
I couldn’t dwell on that now. I had a billionaire to meet.
The mansion had a lot more character than I’d expected. There was no forbidding gate, and the house was nestled in between several other estates, all of them desperate for space on the coveted Santa Monica beach. This was no modern monstrosity made of glass and steel. The exterior was white stucco with door frames that curved into arches. Palm trees hugged the edges of the house. Warm yellow lights gave off an inviting glow.
Someone in a suit stood at the front door. He didn’t look like a stereotypical butler from the movies. Maybe he was a bodyguard of some kind. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. I’d never been inside a mansion, not even when I cleaned houses. After exchanging a nod with the bodyguard, the driver stepped away from me and went back to the car.
“I’ll show you into the house, Miss,” the man said. He lead me through a heavy wooden door and into the foyer.
I walked gingerly across the tiled floor, trying to keep my shoulders straight and my head up. I saw no one. We kept walking, until we reached the kitchen and eating area. All of the doors stood open, leading out to a lush backyard and a pool. Beyond that, the beach, and the ocean.
In the center of the room, facing away from us, stood a man.
He was tall. His shoulders were broad, and his hair was dark.
The security guard cleared his throat. “Mr. Boswell.”
This was Richard. The man I was going to give myself too.
Mr. Boswell — Richard — turned around. “Thank you, John. That will be all.”
It was a clear dismissal, and the guard left us.
I stared. I had assumed the billionaire would be older. Or strange looking, unable to find a woman to date without offering money.
But he wasn’t strange looking. He was gorgeous.
I sucked air into my lungs. I’d never seen anyone in person who looked like Richard.
He was young, not much more than thirty, and he was breathtakingly handsome. His eyes were a light green, a contrast to his olive skin and short black hair. His gray suit had obviously been made just for him, and white collar was crisp against the gray of his suit jacket. His jaw was strong and masculine and his lips were full. He could have been a model. I pressed my mouth closed before I blurted that out.
“Miss Evans?”
Oh, wow. His voice was deep and rich, and perfectly moderated. Why was he running a company instead of starring in Hollywood movies? I couldn't speak, so I nodded. The force of my reaction startled me.
“Welcome to my home.”
“Thank you for having me.” I had to stop myself from curtseying. Come on, Chrissy, he’s not the king. Now I was becoming delirious.
“Would you like to have dinner?”
“Yes.” I hoped I could eat. It had been awhile since I’d had a real meal, but the nerves were playing havoc with my system.
He held out his arm.
I hesitated. Surely he didn’t want to shake hands?
Then I realized he wanted me to put my arm through his. I slipped my arm into the space he’d made for me. He smelled really good. I didn’t know anything about men’s cologne, but whatever it was it smelled spicy and woodsy at the same time, like pine. As we begin to walk, I wobbled. I’d never worn heels before, so it was an accomplishment that I was still standing at all.
I gripped his arm with my free hand. Under his suit jacket, his bicep was hard muscle.
He peered over at me. “Are you all right?”
I was having trouble getting a full breath. My heart was pounding. I’d never had a panic attack, but I felt close. But there was no way I was going to tell him that. “I didn’t sleep much last night. I was up late.”
He didn’t ask why. I assumed he knew something about my situation. He held onto my arm as we passed through a living area and into a dining room.
Again, the room wasn’t filled with sleek new pieces of furniture, but an antique set. It was an eclectic room. The chairs were wooden, with teal green seats. Richard let go of my arm and pulled one of those sturdy chairs out for me.
I did my best to sit without getting tangled in my dress. He waited until I was comfortable, then helped push the chair in for me.
He seated himself across from me, and within moments, a woman appeared with a tray of food. “Sir. As you requested for the menu — roasted lamb with Dijon mustard, cucumber salad, Hasselback potatoes, and an apple tart.”
“Thank you, Diana.”
The smell was amazing. I’d never been inside a top-rated restaurant, so I’d never experienced the reality of the term mouth-watering. I had now. It was all I could do to wait patiently.
He lifted his hand toward me. “Diana, This is Chrissy. Chrissy, this is my chef, Diana.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“You as well,” Diana replied before disappearing.
I had put my phone on silent, but I hadn’t looked at it to see if I’d missed any calls.
“I know it’s rude, but I need to have my cell phone on. My sister is —”
“I know your sister is ill. If anyone calls, answer the phone. If it’s about your sister, take the call. If it’s about anyone else, you’ll have to call them back.”
The chef was back, this time with a drink cart. “Thank you.”
“Chrissy, tell me about yourself.”
What in the world would a billionaire want to know about me? “I’m twenty years old. I’m in college at Cal State. I am majoring in criminal justice. I am raising my little sister. She’s eight years old.” Were we going to eat soon? I hoped so. I snuck a glance at the chef, who began to plate the meal. Finally, she placed the plate in front of me first.
I knew I needed to wait on Richard.
I leaned back so I wouldn’t be tempted to grab the food. The last real meal I’d had was an egg with a piece of cheese. To occupy myself, I draped my napkin across my lap.
Richard looked at me with approval. “That’s admirable. Tell me about her.”
“She’s spunky. She loves drawing and art, and she’s on the archery team. And now she’s really sick. She needs a kidney transplant.”
Richard was so handsome that he was distracting to look at. Even his cheekbones looked nice, and I’d never noticed those on a man before. “I’m pretty nervous about how we’re going to handle that. Besides the fact that it’s very scary, we were barely making it most days. I had three jobs until yesterday. I got fired from one of them last night, so now I have two. I love my classes but I think I’ll need to drop out of college until she’s well.”
I stopped talking, aware that I was getting long-winded.
The chef put Richard’s plate in front of him. Finally. “So you don’
t get any help from your parents?”
“The opposite.” Had the Wish Maker not told him anything? I’d assumed she knew everything about me.
“Explain, please.” Richard lifted his fork and began to eat the salad.
I followed suit. The tangy dressing on the salad was delicious. I had to pace myself. “My mother is a drug addict. Her existence makes my life harder. My father is out of the picture, thanks to a prison sentence. We don’t know who Bella’s father is. I left when I was seventeen and took Bella with me. The judges and social workers all agreed Bella was better off with me than with our mother. But it’s been a pretty precarious situation for years.”
“You have a great vocabulary for someone who’s only twenty.”
That was a little condescending, but I was going to have to swallow a whole lot of irritation to make this work. Just think of him like a customer who tips really well.
“I read a lot,” I said.
“I can tell.” He tilted his head. “Those are all facts. I want to know who you are.”
“I haven’t had time to really find out what I like beyond school. I love my criminal justice classes.” Now Richard had moved on to the potatoes. I had never had anything but a mashed potato. The seasoning on these was unbelievably good. Herbs and parmesan cheese completed the overall taste.
“Have you ever dated?”
“No,” I said as I finished my potatoes. I tried to wipe at my mouth in a dainty way. I wasn’t successful.
“Never had a boyfriend?”
“Never.” Now onto the lamb. I’d never had lamb either. The last meat I’d eaten was a piece of baloney.
“Why not?”
“Partially because I haven’t had time. Partially because I don’t trust most people. Because I saw the men in and out of my mother’s life. I didn’t want to take that kind of risk.” The lamb was perfection. But talking about myself while eating it was ruining it a little. I tried to focus on the food. I recognized the flavor of oregano. I’d cooked with it before, when Lily gave me some of her extra.
“Seems like a good plan. Why change now?”
Richard had turned to face me. His shoulders were so broad. Was I only noticing him because I knew we’d be sleeping together? I supposed I should be grateful that I found him attractive on a very basic level. “This is an exchange. A transaction.”
Richard’s entire demeanor seemed to relax. Maybe he’d been afraid I would be clingy.
“You’re right. I want something from you. And you want something from me.”
“May I ask what exactly this transaction entails? The Wish Maker was fairly vague when she explained it to me.”
“What did she tell you?” His tone was sharper than I’d expected.
“That I’d be giving up my virginity to you.”
“Yes. That’s part of it.”
“That I’d need to obey you.”
“Yes. Do you know what a submissive is?”
“I’ve heard the term.” There was a Psychology of Human Sexual Behavior class at Cal State. Like everyone else, I’d flipped through the textbook. It had covered BDSM and dominance and submission in very dry terms.
‘Power exchange’ were the words the text had used, which made the whole thing sound like an exercise move. I was sure the reality of letting someone tell me what to do would be very different.
“While you’re with me, you will do as I say. I will never ask you to do anything that is physically dangerous. I will not harm you in any way. But if I ask you to sit here at this table with me and have dinner, but if I instruct you to be naked, then I’ll expect you to follow my wishes.”
“Naked?” My face flushed. I still had the apple tart left to eat, but I wasn’t sure I could chew right now. I put my fork down. I wiped my hand on my napkin. I glanced at the other chairs. Could I sit naked in one of these and eat a meal? I hadn’t anticipated that level of request. In my mind, I would only be naked in his bedroom, in the dark.
Could I do it to save Bella?
That was the question I had to repeat.
“Yes. Naked, while I’m fully dressed.” He looked at my hands, still wringing my napkin. “Does that bother you?”
“I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“That’s why I wanted you.”
I swallowed. I started to ask if he’d done it before, but stopped myself in time.
“If I want you to wear only panties in the house, and I want your breasts bare, then I expect you to obey.”
I pictured myself, sitting in this seat across from him, but naked except for the black lacy panties I was wearing. For some reason that was just as shocking as sitting naked at the table.
I turned to look toward the front door. Would staff see me naked?
“John will not enter without my permission unless someone is trying to break in. He will not see you naked.” Richard’s voice grew deeper. “I am a very possessive man. Anyone else seeing you, or participating in our agreement is not an option.”
That was a relief.
He continued. “Another example could be that I might say, “Chrissy, I’m working on a contract. I want you to serve me dinner wearing only high heels and a lacy bra, then you’ll say ‘yes sir,’ or ‘yes Richard.’ You won’t argue. You won’t tell me you’re tired, or that you don’t like wearing a bra at night.”
Beyond the Cal State textbook, the little I knew about kinks came from internet searches gone wrong, and some curiosity when I’d heard song lyrics about whips and handcuffs. I was grateful he didn’t seem to be into causing physical pain.
“If I want to touch you, at any point, you will allow it. You won’t pull away. If we’re watching a movie, and I want you in my lap, that’s where you’ll sit. If I want to put my hands in your panties, you won’t push me away.”
My stomach flipped over. But it wasn’t with anxiety. Heat rushed through my body. I shifted in my seat.
Did I want his hands between my legs?
Part of me did want that.
“If you are truly in distress, then we’ll have a safe word. The safe word is meant to protect you, it is not meant to get you out of doing something you find boring or awkward.”He studied my face. “Is this making sense?”
I nodded.
“If it’s not, then tell me now. Because this will not work if you can’t follow my directions word for word, or if you push back against my desires.”
“It will work,” I said. I would have to make it work.
“I want your virginity. And I want a submissive partner. Not just for sex, but for companionship. If this trial goes well, then I want us to go out to parties, and dinners and on trips. You will learn to fit yourself into my life. But if this doesn’t sound palatable to you, then you need to tell me now. I know you’re missing work, so you’ll be compensated for today and tonight, no matter what you decide.”
“Will I be free to come and go?”
“No. You will not.”
I wrapped my hands around the edge of that teal blue seat, gripping hard. I’d been taking care of myself since I could remember, and taking care of Bella since I was twelve. I’d learned to walk to the corner store when I was five. I’d learned the bus system when I was nine. I’d learned to take a few dollars from my mother’s purse to make sure Bella had milk when I was thirteen.
I couldn’t bring myself to ask anymore questions.
“If you wish to end the arrangement, you may do so at any point. I’d arrange a driver for you and we’ll tie up any loose ends. But as long as you wish to be my submissive and benefit from our arrangement, then I’ll approve how your spend your time. For instance, if you wish to spend every day with your sister while I’m at work, I’ll permit that, as long as you’re clear about where you’ll be. You will not be allowed to work at any other jobs. But you may attend classes, as long as I’ve approved your schedule.”
“I can go to school?” That was the best news so far. The sooner I could graduate, the sooner I would be ab
le to support myself without relying on asinine sexual agreements.
“Yes. As long as it doesn’t interfere with anything I need from you. So no night classes, and no studying at night unless I agree, but daytime classes should be acceptable.”
I could make that work. But it was going to be an adjustment. My mother had never been a mother, and my father had been in prison. I’d created my own rules, my own schedule. When other teenagers were chafing against bedtimes and curfews, I’d been trying to create some structure for my toddler sister. My teachers had always seen how hard I worked, and had never lectured me. Having another person “permit” me to do something would be a massive change in my life.
All my jobs had conduct requirements of course, but I chose to work at each of them. This felt less like a choice.
But it is a choice.
It didn’t feel like one, because Bella was sick. She was the reason I was here. But ultimately, being with Richard was a choice. I wasn’t being forced. I would be following his rules because I chose to.
I’d have to remind myself of that frequently.
“If you need something and I’m not home, you may text or call my personal assistant. If you need new clothing, you’ll call my stylist. If you’re hungry, you’ll tell my chef.”
It would be difficult for me to bother other people with my needs. I realized that he paid them, probably a lot of money, to be available for whatever he wanted, but I was never going to feel like that. I’d much prefer to go to the store, buy my own food, cook it, and then clean up after myself.
He seemed to be expected a response, so I nodded. I had lost my appetite. The pretty little apple tart sat uneaten on my plate. I mourned the loss of getting to enjoy it.
He continued. “You won’t go out on errands or day trips, at least not at first. If you need to see a friend, you may invite her here. No men are permitted to visit.”
That wasn’t going to be an issue. I didn’t know any men, beyond coworkers and classmates. For the time being, I’d have to talk to Lily on the phone, until I thought of a way to spin this situation to her. I couldn’t fathom telling her I was living with a rich man so he’d pay my bills. She’d think I’d been possessed.