by Alexia Praks
"Then please find her quickly, Daddy. I want to have dinner with her, and I want to show her all my toys and books and teach her how to play the piano..."
James laughed. He couldn't help himself. Aria was just so cute.
"Roger that, princess," he teased.
She wiped her teary eyes and laughed, too.
"Now promise me you'll be a good girl?"
She nodded. "I promise."
"Good. See you later, then."
She nodded enthusiastically and said, "Bye-bye, Daddy."
* * * * *
CHAPTER 9
Mia
I stared up at the darkening sky, wondering why my life sucked so much, wondering how the heck I was supposed to find two million... wondering if I should take up on Mr. Maxwell's offer.
No! the voice in the back of my head shouted. I wasn't that low. I wasn't about to become his prostitute.
Selfish! the voice screamed at me. You're a selfish bitch, Mia. It's Andy, your brother. You'd do anything for him.
I sat up, wiping away my tears. That's right. I'd do anything for Andy. He was all I had. I couldn't lose him. He needed me and I needed him. I'd find that two million. Somehow. Someway.
Grabbing my bag, I flung the ripped thing over my shoulder and hoisted myself up.
The moment my legs straightened, the world spun around me. I gritted my teeth as I shut my eyes. I knew I was very dehydrated and tired. The way I was going, I'd collapse soon. I couldn't allow that to happen. I needed to find a place to stay for the night and then something to eat.
Turning the bag over, I unzipped it and dug inside. The rough material of my wallet brushed my finger, and I sighed with some small relief. I took it out and inspected the contents. Driver's license, Visa card, and the three hundred dollars cash were still there. Then I dug around again to see what else Miss Lane had managed to salvage for me.
When I saw the homemade bars, I nearly wept with joy. I quickly unwrapped the plastic and shoved one into my mouth. I ate like my life depended on it, and once I was finished, I found I wasn't satisfied. I was about to take the last one but decided against it. It would be my breakfast for tomorrow. Nodding at that, I carefully put it back in and then zipped the broken bag.
Hoisting it on my back, I headed down the hill. I walked for another hour through the darkened streets. If my situation weren't so dire, I would have enjoyed the view of the dark sky with twinkling of bright streetlights below.
When I reached the small motel I'd seen on my way here, I sighed. Finally, I could get some rest. Today had been hectic.
A few minutes later, I stood at the front desk, checking in. The woman, who was staring at me as if I were some homeless girl, robbed me off my fifty dollars for the night. I knew I had to find cheaper accommodations for tomorrow night. Because the motel happened to have a souvenir shop, I bought a white T-shirt that read I heart LA. That cost me five more bucks. Well, I needed the damn thing, since all my shirts had been destroyed by that stupid dog.
I thrust open my motel room door and mucked around for a few seconds trying to find the switch. Once I found it, the room, small and basic with a single bed, was flooded with brightness.
Throwing my bag onto the bed, I headed to the kitchenette and got myself a glass of water. After finishing that, it was time for a long shower, even though I'd just had one back at Mr. Maxwell's home. The long walk and heat made me sweat like a pig. I was so hot and sticky.
With the beautiful, fresh water pounding down on me, I thought about Mr. Maxwell. Suddenly, heat rose within my being and I groaned. Images of his handsome face flashed before my eyes. I touched my lips, still a little sore from the kisses, and groaned again.
My heart felt this crushing weight, and I hadn't a clue how to interpret that. What had he done to me?
I turned off the shower and stepped out, grabbing the towel. I returned to the bedroom and flicked on the small TV. News flooded the room as I proceeded to dry my long hair with another towel.
"We would like to welcome Mr. James Maxwell to our show today..."
The name Maxwell drew my attention, and I flicked my gaze to the TV screen.
The host, a middle-aged man, said, "He's one of the youngest billionaires in the world, son of the famous--" He laughed. "Or shall we say infamous business moguls Liam Maxwell? James is the head of the Maxwell Empire, working along with his brothers Scott and Eric. Everyone, please welcome to our show Mr. James Maxwell."
Onscreen, the James Maxwell appeared. Loud applause erupted, followed by both men and women getting to their feet. What? Really? My eyeballs were glued to the screen as the man himself walked confidently toward the host. There, he took a seat, and only then did the applause finally stop.
Of course, I couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked on TV. I grew angry with myself. Baring my teeth, I wanted to throw the remote control at the screen, at his face, his Prussian-blue eyes twinkling. Naturally, I decided against it because I'd probably damage the television, and then I'd have to pay for the repairs.
Look at him, I thought miserably, sitting there smiling and talking business, telling everyone how he came on the top of the world, making billions a year. I could totally tell the women in the audience were falling in love with him, both his bank account and looks.
When a woman raised her hand to ask him a question, he gave her such a warm and handsome smile it made my stomach lurch.
"Sick!" I muttered under my breath. "He didn't look like that when he was dealing with me."
I flicked to another channel, a comedy I hadn't seen before.
I returned my attention to getting myself dressed.
Searching through my bag, I found my panties and slipped my legs through, sliding them up as I stood. After unwrapping the towel from my body, my ripped jeans went next, hugging my long legs and butt perfectly, never mind the material being torn at the knees and ankles.
"Stupid dog," I mumbled, staring at my ruined bra. I should have brought more than two. But I'd thought I wouldn't be here long.
While pulling the price tag off the new T-shirt with my teeth, a flick of bright light flashed across me. My attention was caught, and I gazed toward the window. Heat rushed to my face as I stared out. Though the curtain was drawn closed, it was transparent.
"Shit!" The profanity flew out of my mouth.
What had I expected? It was a cheap motel. Of course it was a see-through curtain.
Clutching the T-shirt against my breasts, I rushed around and peeked out to confirm no one had seen me naked. I scanned across the parking lot. Apart from five cars, including that black, sleek-looking one, there was no one. I sighed, sidled to stand at the door so no one could see me, and slipped the T-shirt over my head.
I was just getting ready for bed when my tummy grumbled, reminding me I hadn't had proper food for over eighteen hours now. I sighed and knew I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't satisfy my craving. Grabbing my wallet and keys, I headed out the door.
I'd known there were fast food restaurants along the bus journey up this afternoon, so I wasn't so worried about finding something to eat. But I couldn't afford fancy food.
I headed to a small, rundown takeaway and ordered myself the cheapest meal available. Munching up the burger, deliciousness playing havoc with my taste buds, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to enjoy the moment. When I opened them again, I blinked. There on the street sat the black, sleek car I'd seen back at the motel. Curiosity ate at me, and I found myself staring at it harder, wondering who it belonged to. Surely it was too expensive for anyone staying at the crappy motel. Unless, of course, he or she had no choice because nowhere else was available.
I took a sip of the soda and felt the buzz of the cold fizziness dancing in my mouth. It was heaven. I took more bites of the burger and, now and again, popped in some French fries as I continued to watch the car.
When I finished my food, I was still hungry, and the car was still there. Well, it had only been a mere fifteen minutes
, so the owner must have been having a great, hearty meal somewhere in one of those flashy, expensive restaurants.
I got up, disposed of my garbage, and headed out the door. It was still lovely and warm, and once again, my mind switched to Andy, wondering how he was fairing. I hoped he was all right. My mind wandered off to the two million dollars I had to find by Friday.
Drugs! I should do drug dealing. That made you heaps of money in a short space of time, right? Yeah. Drug dealing. Just needed to know the right people.
What if I got bashed, though? And then killed in the process? Even worse, caught? With the way things were going, I wouldn't know how to get myself out of the mess. No, I couldn't do drugs.
What about robbery? Yeah, bank robbery. But then again, it would have to be a state-of-the-art plan. A high school dropout who'd been working as a kitchen hand to make ends meet wouldn't even know how to pick a lock with a hairpin.
Doomed! I was utterly and seriously doomed.
I lifted my head as I came down the footpath and saw the black car still there. I eyed it curiously as I walked past, trying to see inside. Of course, the windows were tinted, and I couldn't make out anything.
I passed it and shrugged, returning my attention to the various illegal methods of making loads of money in two days--the get rich quick scheme.
I was just thinking about contacting one of the business moguls for a loan when I heard screeching of tires against asphalt. I curiously glanced over my shoulder, and my eyes rounded in dread. The black car did a hard-out reverse and then veered onto the sidewalk. I staggered back, missing being hit by a mere inch.
It halted and the door swung open.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demanded, my voice shaking. Didn't the damn driver see me, the pedestrian, walking?
The moment that handsome face of James Maxwell greeted me, I paled and my stomach lurched with dread.
"Get in the car," he instructed firmly.
"Why? What for?" I asked stupidly.
I knew when a guy asked you to get into his car, you ran in the opposite direction. But James Maxwell was smart and cunning. He lured me with my weakness. He flicked up a cell phone. "A call. Your brother."
My heart skipped a beat. Hope rose within my chest. I was conned. "I want to see him," I said.
"You'll see him when you've decided," he said. "Now get in the car." He narrowed his eyes, and I knew he was up to no good. "Or should I aid you?"
He was beside me before he even finished the question, wrapping his large, strong hand around my slim arm. A tantalizing sensation rushed through me. I responded by jerking back. He held on firmly, drawing me back to him. Without knowing it, I found myself following him to the other side of the car. He made me slip in, and before I could protest, he shut the door. He was in the driver's seat a moment later.
I turned to him, waiting for him to initiate the call to my brother. When he started the engine, I panicked. "Where are you taking me?" Then, "To see my brother?"
He turned his attention to me, his brow raised. He leaned over me, and I automatically pulled back. With his face only inches from me, he said, "Seatbelt."
I just stared at him. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me where my brother is."
He moved closer, his nose now touching mine and his lips so close if he moved any farther, he'd be kissing me, again, for the third time today.
I swallowed when his hand grabbed the seatbelt and pulled it across me, his hand deliberately brushing against my breast. Hot twists of sensation erupted within me, making me weak and breathless. I wondered how long I'd last with this man without reducing myself into a frenzy of heat, without turning into a wanton wench.
He clicked the seatbelt in place and then moved back. Putting the car in reverse, he stepped on the accelerator and moved out. A moment later, we were off.
"Where are you taking me?" I demanded again. "To see Andy?"
"Friday. I said you can see Andy on Friday. Now, I'm hungry."
I blinked, confused. What did his hunger have to do with me?
"If you behave yourself during dinner, I'll let you make the call to your brother," he said, glancing sidelong at me.
I got the picture. I nodded and relaxed in my seat, turning my attention to the blur of bright streetlights and nightlife passing by.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 10
Mia
It was another twenty minutes later when he pulled into a parking lot. I noticed the many flashy cars parked here. He switched off the engine and got out. Uncertainly, I undid my seatbelt and did the same.
He was already in front of me by the time I shut the door. "I won't run," I said, annoyed he should act like my unwelcome bodyguard. "I want to talk to my brother."
I glanced up and saw the slight smile lifting one side of his lips. "Good," he said, wrapping a hand over my arm and steering me close to him.
As we walked to the door, I felt like I was glued to him by the hip. I scowled and tried to move him off. The feeling of him so close didn't sit well with me. I was hot and tense at the same time, and my breasts and nipples were growing aroused. I couldn't believe he was turning me on by just holding me close.
He tightened his grip on me and even went so far as to rest his other hand around the back of my neck, under my braided hair. I jumped, a gasp escaping my lips. He knew I was about to pull away and tightened his hold on me.
"Behave yourself, Mia." The warning drifted to me. He was referring to me by name.
I couldn't help myself and glanced up to him as the maitre de opened the door for us.
He flicked his gaze to me and said softly again, "Mia." To tease me, I was sure.
Heat rushed to my face after he repeated my name, followed by a gentle stroke of my neck. What was he doing? Stroking me in the open like this?
"Good evening, sir," the man in a polished black suit greeted us. Then he turned his attention to me, his smile bright. "And madam."
I shifted my gaze from the man who was causing such turmoil within my body to the maitre de. I had to behave myself in order to talk to my brother. So I did just that by ignoring the light stroking and smiling at the maitre de. "Hi," I said.
"Table for two," the billionaire said firmly.
"Of course, sir." He showed us to a lone table that boasted a great view of the city. The restaurant was dimly lit, so I was grateful my sorry state of dress didn't gain too much attention.
I glanced around me, noting the big plates of delicious fare on almost every table. Steak, potatoes, pasta, steamed fish, risotto, salad. I hugged myself, suddenly feeling sad and sorry. I wanted to eat. But I was sure they cost the moon. I'd just have to sit and wait for this heartless billionaire to finish his meal so I could phone my brother.
The maitre de returned, asking for drink orders. I ignored him, and more so the billionaire, who looked right at home here, ordering wine in French.
"A very good choice, sir," the maitre de replied.
I shut my mind and sank into despair when the man returned with an expensive bottle of wine. He expertly poured some into a crystal glass for the Maxwell to taste. When the powerful man nodded, the maitre de poured more. Then he turned to my side of the table and began pouring into mine as well.
I blinked as I watched the white liquid dance in the glass before me, luring me in for a taste. I clamped my lips tighter and glanced at James. A brow rose as the Prussian-blue eyes directed their gaze toward me. I could tell he found my reaction amusing.
When the maitre de left, I turned away and stared out at the beautiful view instead, avoiding that intense gaze that caused my heart to skip a beat.
"What are you having?" he asked.
Surprised, I turned my attention back to him. He was looking over the menu.
"I'm not hungry," I said.
My tummy, however, betrayed my lie by making a loud grumbling noise indicating I was indeed otherwise. Even though I'd just had some dinner--if one could call one tiny hamburger an
d a small soda a meal--I was still hungry. Food and I were the best of friends, except this best friend of mine kept deserting me when I needed it most. Of course, growing up poor wasn't fun, and I would wholeheartedly dispute anyone who claimed otherwise.
James rested the menu on the table and leaned back in his seat, observing me. Silence descended, and I felt uncomfortable. His hot gaze seared me as my eyes concentrated on the city below, trying to ignore him. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the maitre de returned, asking for his order.
"Steak for me," he said. "And the salmon and pasta for the lady."
I blinked and turned to him. My shock must have shown because I noted the satisfied smirk on his face.
"Drink your wine, Mia," he directed gently.
"I'm broke!" I blurted out. "I'll be even more broke by Friday."
"I see," he said. "I assume you've decided?"
"I told you I'd get the two million. Somehow, some way." A lump formed in my throat because I knew I was lying through my teeth.
"Good luck with that," he said. "I hope you realize how fruitless it is for a young woman of your experience--or should I say inexperience--to find such a sum in two days."
I fisted my hands and refused to back down. I was harshly taught to be independent by my aunt and uncle since I was twelve, after my wonderful parents had died. It was hard to suddenly accept this billionaire's offer, especially one such as this, becoming his mistress, completely dependent on him financially, totally secure and safe. Meanwhile, all I had to do was...
I couldn't even think further. Yes, Mr. James Maxwell was every girl's dream man. Heck, he was even mine. In fact, he was just my type--the dark hair, the blue eyes, the angular features, the toned muscles, and the tall, lean figure. I was very attracted to him, and I would definitely go out on a date with him in a heartbeat if the circumstances were completely different, if the circumstances were normal. But this was anything but normal.
I leaned forward and looked him straight in the eyes, a lovely fake smile playing across my face. I wanted to be a little sarcastic, but I knew I was terrible at playing the bitch. In fact, I could never because it wasn't my nature.
"Then won't you be so kind as to give me some suggestions?" I asked.