Sold to My Father's Friend

by Cara Chance

  Sold To My Father’s Friend

  By Cara Chance

  Dedication

  To Logan and Jacob for inspiring me to write my own book.

  Cover Illustration Copyright © 2016 Letitia Hassar

  Cover design by RBA Designs

  Book design and production by Brothers Chance Publications

  Editing by Brothers Chance

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter One

  A door slammed, jarring me, as I lie in my bed on the verge of sleep. I had a busy day tomorrow and needed my so called beauty rest. The house was usually silent this time of night. These were the pitfalls of living with your parents, it was theirs and they could do as they pleased. I had only moved back home a few months ago after a failed attempt at college. My parents were still upset I hadn’t finished my studies, but I needed a break to find myself and figure out what I wanted to do. They called my indecision immature and foolish. I felt it was something I couldn’t ignore.

  Shouting dragged me fully awake. I needed to see what was going on. Kicking back the heavy comforter, my feet padded across the plush carpet out into the hallway. Angry voices battling with each other confronted me as I stepped down the spiral staircase leading to the floor below. Dark hair and shadowed eyes were the first thing I saw as I descended further. Who was he?

  My father spoke to the mysterious man as I peered around the corner trying not to be seen. Too late. The tall stranger turned his lightly scruffed face to me and his eyes raked over my body, lingering on my pale pink sleep shorts. I tugged on the hem of my white tank, covering the small amount of exposed skin above the waistband. Chills erupted from head to toe under his appraising stare. His chiseled jaw clenched as I entered the room.

  “Angelique, go back to your room,” my father demanded.

  “What’s going on?” I moved closer to the two men squaring off in the middle of the living room. My father crossed his arms as the mystery man moved to the large leather chair in the corner and sat down. He laughed. My father’s eyes darted to him. “Mr. Landon, is something funny?”

  “I didn’t know your daughter was back from college.”

  “What difference does it make?” my father asked, glaring at the man.

  “Well, this changes everything.”

  My father moved closer. “No, it doesn’t.” My father’s voice was stern, the voice he used to reprimand me many times when I was younger.

  The man wasn't intimidated, he waved him off with a flick of his wrist and turned his attention to me. His eyes captured mine. Dark and fathomless, pulling me in. I couldn’t tell where the pupils ended and the irises began. The way he looked me over, slow and appraising, made my knees almost buckle. I’d never been stared at like that before. He held a hint of familiarity, but I couldn’t place him. I think I’d seen him before with my father, but now I wasn’t so sure.

  “This is my new offer, Mr. Stammer,” he said, not taking his eyes off of me. “You have two weeks to get me the money you owe me. In the meantime, I’ll hold your daughter as collateral.” My eyes widened.

  “What?” I said, dumbfounded.

  “You mother fucker and you call yourself my friend,” my father shouted.

  Mr. Landon stood. His tailored dark suit only added to the foreboding flitting around in my belly. “Pack a few things. You have ten minutes.”

  Confused, I glanced at my father who stood dead in his tracks. Was this really happening?

  My father’s head lowered in defeat. “Pack your bags, Angelique.”

  “You can not be serious. What is going on?” My eyes sought answers, but his tight-lipped response was all I was met with.

  He stepped closer, out of Mr. Landon’s earshot. “Do it. You’ll be staying with Mr. Landon. He’s a friend. He won't hurt you.” He ran a hand through his greying dark hair. “Angel, if you don’t do this we’ll lose the house. We’ll lose everything. It’s not ideal, but I promise I’ll find the money.” He glanced back to the man with dark eyes. “Jace, you lay one finger on her and I’ll kill you.”

  Jace. I had a name. I’d heard the name many times before. A friend to my father, but now it appeared as if things between them had changed.

  He stepped closer to me, his movements stealthy and assured.

  He was older than me, but not by much. Early thirties was my guess.

  Stopping in front of me, he leaned down. “Go pack your bags. Now,” he whispered against my ear.

  My legs shook as I turned away and neared the staircase.

  “Jace, I mean it. One finger touches her…”

  “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Mr. Stammer. Don’t forget who you work for.” His voice was deep and commanding, demanding obedience and getting it.

  My father backed down and I raced to my room. This couldn’t really be happening. I had work the next few days. How would my absence be explained? The library wouldn’t appreciate me not showing up. Collateral? What kind of money did my father owe this man?

  My father had always been involved with the wrong people. I often wondered what his work involved but was told by my mother to keep my nose out of it.

  Would this man hurt me?

  Grabbing my old cheerleading duffle bag from high school, I packed a few items inside. How long would I be with this man?

  Hatred grew inside me as I pulled on a t-shirt and yoga pants.

  I decided right then I would not abide to anything he had in store for me. Tying my long dark hair up in a bun, I threw on my tennis shoes and turned slowly around my room. Would I see this room again?

  I couldn’t believe this was really happening.

  Twenty years old, and I was essentially being sold to my father’s friend.

  Chapter Two

  His sleek black sedan was cool inside from the air conditioning tempering the nervous sweat coating my palms. I sunk my tiny body into the soft leather of the seat, wanting to disappear, as he drove through the city of Chicago.

  Mr. Landon hadn’t said a word since we left the house. My father assured me this was temporary, but the tears still escaped as I said my goodbyes. What if he was wrong? I didn’t want to think about the possibilities if my father couldn’t pay the debt.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  I shook my head, not wanting to give him my words. It was a small defiance, inconsequential, but he’d taken my freedom. I didn't want to willingly give him anything.

  “You will have to speak to me.” Silence stretched between us as he navigated the near empty streets. After an hour of my mind conjuring up horrible things of what awaited me, finally, I spoke, “What do you plan on doing to me?”

  His eyes met mine. Stopped at a traffic light, the red illuminating his face made him appear like the devil incarnated. He shot me a sly grin. “You’re mine now. I can do whatever I want.”

  Unease draped itself around me. “I’m not a prostitute.”

  He laughed softly at my statement, accelerating through the green light. “Do I look like the type of man who would buy a prostitute?”

  I glanced at him. With his crisp, black suit, fancy cufflinks, and expensive silver watch poking out from under his clothing, he looked ev
ery bit the type of man who would. “Yes,” I uttered.

  He laughed again and the rich sound sent goosebumps traveling over my skin. Turning my head to gaze out the window, I wondered where he would take me.

  He turned down a dark road lined with shadowy trees, and I got the eerie sensation bad things were to come. This reminded me of the movies when the killer turns down the long, windy trail to murder the stupid girl who has no clue what's coming. Except, the stupid girl in this case was me. And this wasn't a movie; this was real.

  Anger bubbled when I thought about my father and the position he put me in. The only ounce of hope I could cling to was the fact Mr. Landon was a businessman and wanted money. Hopefully, my father would find a way to buy me back. I laughed to myself. Buy me back. Cattle.

  I was fucking cattle.

  He stopped the car along the path and turned to me. “I’ve never bought anyone before in my life.”

  “Until tonight,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Yes, you’re correct. Until tonight.”

  I crossed my arms as he continued down the road. When he steered the car around a slight bend in the road, a mansion came into view. I couldn’t help the soft ‘wow’ that escaped my lips.

  A breathtaking multi-storied stone house, on a huge expanse of land, stood before us. Light from the numerous windows spilled onto the lawn.

  Inside, I could see a few rooms with older artwork lining the walls. He parked under a huge stone awning. When he exited the car, I surveyed my surroundings. Maybe I could escape. Doubtful. Even if an escape were possible, I wouldn’t know where to go. We hadn’t passed anything for miles.

  This property was completely isolated.

  He opened my door, offering his hand. Ignoring it, I stepped from the car.

  Mr. Landon moved to the trunk to retrieve my bag as I wrapped my arms around my cold shoulders to ward off the chilly night air.

  “This way, Angel.”

  I’d been called Angel by my friends and family for years but something about the way he said it made it sound naughty.

  Like he wanted to see how good I could be.

  He opened the door for me, and I brushed past him. As the wood door slammed shut, my insides churned. The finality of the moment set in. I was here, in a stranger’s home. Would I basically be his slave for the next few weeks? Or worse yet, a sex slave?

  I pushed the thoughts away as he led me down the darkened hallway. “You’ll be staying upstairs. I have a guest room up there.”

  My pulse calmed a little knowing I wouldn’t be staying in his room. “What will I be doing while I’m here?”

  He stopped mid stride, and his eyes raked over my body. My t-shirt I wore suddenly felt two sizes too small. His critical stare made me nervous, and I tugged at the cotton of my yoga pants.

  “I haven’t decided yet, Angel.”

  My eyes grew wide as I tried to think of all the possibilities of things I could be expected to do.

  He led me to the upstairs of the massive home. My eyes tried to take in everything all at once. Pictures hung all over the walls. Some of famous artwork which I couldn’t remember the names of.

  His house reminded me of a museum. I wouldn’t be touching anything. God forbid I break something and add to the debt.

  I followed along behind him as he led me to a white door at the end of the hallway. When he opened it and ushered me into the room, my jaw dropped. It was enormous and lavish.

  A huge sleigh bed, piled high with pillows in all shapes and sizes, stood strong and proud in the center of the room. French doors, which led out to a balcony, stood open, their pale yellow curtains rustling in the breeze. A sitting area, with two overstuffed yellow wingback chairs was off to the left. Colorful paintings adorned the white walls. The room was bright and cheery.

  “I hope this space is to your liking.”

  What did he care about my liking? I was being held as a prisoner, and all of a sudden he cared about whether or not I’d like it?

  “Well, my room at my own house is better.” I moved toward the bed as he watched me.

  “Angel, don’t test my patience.”

  I spun around and our eyes locked. His were challenging as they held mine. I broke my eyes away first and glanced at the large closet. He dropped my bag to the floor and stepped closer.

  “I know it’s late. I’ll let you sleep.”

  “How thoughtful.”

  He moved even closer. The silence between us was deafening as he stood inches from me. “Go to bed,” he demanded. His cologne permeated the air, and I wanted to take a deep breath of it. It smelled of woods and all man. A flame of desire ignited, and I tried to push the feeling away, snuff it out.

  This man was not to be trusted. He was a wolf and I was his prey.

  I nodded my head and he stalked away.

  When he left the room, I dropped to the huge bed. Sleep pulled me under as soon as I snuggled underneath the covers.

  ***

  The next morning, I woke to sunshine streaming into the room. It took me a moment to remember where I was. Then, I remembered my situation. I worried for a moment about work, and the fact he made me leave my cell phone at home. But, I knew my parents would let the library know I wouldn’t be into work.

  I didn’t want to move from the bed. It was so comfortable and luxurious. I could hate him and still secretly love this bed. Glancing at the antique clock hanging on the wall, I noticed it was already eleven in the morning.

  Letting out a sigh, I reluctantly rose from the mattress and grabbed my duffel bag. After using the lavish en suite bathroom, and getting dressed in dark skinny jeans and an over-sized pink sweater, I decided to leave the room.

  I tiptoed down the stairs and tried to find the kitchen after my stomach growled. Turning a corner, my eyes grew wide when I saw Mr. Landon in the kitchen, cooking.

  He looked over his shoulder at me. “Are you hungry, Angel?” The way he said my name, husky and low, had my head spinning.

  “Yeah, a little.”

  He finished cooking and pointed to a small wooden table, drenched in sunshine, off to the left. I sat and he produced a plate of eggs and bacon for me. My stomach was in knots. When Mr. Landon sat down beside me, I could only push my scrambled eggs around on the plate with my fork.

  “Eat it, Angel.” The way his voice commanded me had my eyes darting to him.

  “Fine.” I speared a piece of bacon with my fork and brought it to my lips. He cooked it exactly how I like it. Just shy of crisp. After I took the bite, Mr. Landon growled in his chair beside me. My head snapped to him. Did I imagine that?

  I stopped chewing, stopped breathing, as his eyes closed. I waited with baited breath for him to open them.

  When his eyes sprang open, they were heated and my insides warmed. “Take another bite, Angel.”

  I complied and was met with the same reaction as before. When I swallowed, his eyes opened and he leaned closer. “You’re pretty enough to eat,” he breathed across my ear.

  My spine straightened in the chair as I tried not to let his words affect me. He resumed his position and ate his meal as if the moment had never happened.

  “What will you do with me today?”

  He placed his fork down, grabbed his white linen napkin and pressed it to his lips, and then stared at me for a moment. “What would you like to do?”

  “Go home.” Hey, it was worth a shot.

  He laughed for a quick second. “Out of the question. Anything else?”

  I thought about it and then said the only thing I loved to do. “Can I read?”

  He studied me a moment as if my request surprised him. “I have a library I think you’ll love.”

  After breakfast, he gave me a tour of the house. I met some of the staff who worked during the day. He introduced me as a family friend. No one questioned me, they could care less. Mr. Landon made sure I kept my mouth shut about being held what I considered prisoner. Basically, he warned if I told, I’d be punished. L
ater, he took me to see the grounds. He walked me to a stable of horses and led me into the large barn. A beautiful grey gelding peeked its head over the first metal gate. Long eyelashes blinked over big brown eyes. "That's Rosebud," he said, stopping to give a caress down her long nose. "Why Rosebud?" I asked. The name seemed too gentle for the restless horse behind the gate.

  "Because she's beautiful but prickly as a thorn,'' he gave her another pat and then turned to me. "Like you."

  My breath caught. His eyes swept down my body.

  "You would be prickly too if someone kidnapped you," I spat. Rosebud whinnied in her stall.

  His eyes narrowed and he stepped closer, reaching up over my shoulder. "That mouth is going to get you in trouble, Angel." My eyes widened at the short leather riding crop he held in his hand. "Maybe you need a little discipline?"

  “Maybe you need to stop taking girls as payment. There's a thing called a bank."

  He ran the tip of the crop across my shoulder and down my chest. My nipples hardened as he grazed over one with the small paddle. "Maybe you need to be tamed." The air around us crackled with tension, and I tried to ignore the fact my body was reacting to the way his eyes were lingering on my breasts. He moved the crop down my stomach and between my legs. I gasped as he stroked it against my pussy. "Maybe a lesson in obedience." He stopped the movement and pressed the paddle against me putting pressure on my clit. My pulse raced, my heart galloping in my chest. I stifled a moan. His lips were so close. I licked mine as he rubbed the paddle back and forth. He dropped the crop and stepped away from me. "The tour is over." He turned abruptly and walked out.

  I took a deep breath and followed after him. What the hell just happened? My panties were damp.

  When we reached the house, he took me to the library.

  It was large, with a wraparound bookcase built into all three walls. So many books.

  He handed me a book before he left, and as I glanced at the title, I giggled. Beauty and the Beast. Very fitting. I sat in a large overstuffed chair and spent the remainder of the afternoon reading the book he selected. When the afternoon sun set, I shut the book and went to my room.