The Dom's Deal: A Dark Contemporary BDSM Romance (The Pleasure Wars Book 1)

by Harper West

  "Why do you even need it?" she asked me. "If you have as much money as you claim, what's another... however much? Especially when it's so difficult to get."

  "It's fifty million dollars, give or take a few thousand here and there," I told her, and enjoyed the way her mouth dropped open. "Exactly. And up to half of it is for my 'wife', technically, so if you were to agree to my proposal, I think you can understand how rich you'd be."

  "Holy shit," she said. "That's... that's a fuck ton of money."

  "It is. Of course, I wouldn't expect you to wait a year to fix your problems. I would pay for whatever you needed while we were married as part of the deal. Your schooling, your rent, whatever. There would, of course, be things I'd need you to do for me as part of your... wifely duties, let’s call them, but other than that I'd have no expectations of you."

  I folded my hands and watched her think it through. As strange as it sounded, it was a good opportunity. As she had pointed out, I was attractive and rich, so there were worse things than being saddled with me for a year. Especially when she was already having problems. All she had to do was say yes, and they would all go away.

  “Wifely duties?” she asked. “What, like making you dinner and doing your laundry?”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “Nothing like that. I have other people for that. I’d want my wife to perform different services for me.” I gave her a significant look, hoping she’d catch on.

  Judging by how red her face got, she understood.

  “Are you serious?” she demanded. “That’s what you want? I should have known.”

  “People have needs, Ashlyn,” I said. “And I couldn’t have a partner who wasn’t taking care of mine.” It really was as simple as that.

  She opened her mouth like she had something to say and then closed it again, shaking her head. “So, isn’t that what a mistress is for? To help you get your rocks off in whatever way you needed to that your wife wouldn’t?”

  “That’s not the sort of man I am. I want a partner. Not a partner and a mistress.”

  “That’s... you realize how insane this sounds, right?”

  “Are you attracted to me?”

  She narrowed her eyes at me, “You already know that answer to that question.”

  “Exactly. Sex is a pleasurable exchange between two people who find each other attractive. You find me attractive, as I do you.” I lifted my wine. “What’s the problem, then?”

  “This is ridiculous. You’re asking me to marry you. A literal stranger. You have to have someone else who can do this. An ex-girlfriend still in love with you—or some booty call.” She pushed her hair behind her ear, “I don’t get it. Why me?”

  “I want you, it’s that simple. I’m not interested in anyone who has any previous emotional investment. It’s a business arrangement. No feelings involved, so what does it matter?”

  “I think it matters a lot! I always thought when someone proposed to me it would be someone I loved. Or maybe someone I didn’t, but at least I’d know them for longer than an hour.”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “The world moves in mysterious ways. You don’t have to decide right now.”

  Ash was still shaking her head, and she put her napkin down on the table and stood up. “I’m not interested,” she said. “Thanks for the thought, but it’s just too weird. I hope you find someone else.”

  She shot me a tight smile and then walked away.

  Chapter 3

  Ash

  I was still processing my feelings the next morning when I went to my other job.

  The nerve of him, honestly. Thinking I was desperate enough to be his wife for a year, just for the money. It was arrogance at its finest, and I could tell from the look on his face when I'd walked out on him, that he wasn't used to hearing the word 'no' very often.

  Well, he could just get used to it. I might have been in need of a miracle to help pay for things, but it wasn't so bad that I needed to reduce myself that low for a rich guy and his ego.

  I could just... get a third job. Or something. That probably wasn't a terrible idea. It was better than being married to a pervert who had ridiculous ideas about marriage and expected me to do... things with him just because he had money.

  I kept telling myself that over and over again while I sat behind the desk and welcomed people to the gallery. I answered their questions and directed them to where they wanted to go, all the while keeping the mantra running through my head that it wasn't that bad.

  Things were bad, but I could handle them. I could.

  By the end of my shift, I'd convinced myself that everything was fine and Killian was an idiot, and I never had to see him again. Things would turn around. They always did.

  And then I saw my supervisor heading in my direction while I packed up my things.

  That was never good.

  Shannon Hern usually stayed in her office during the day. I'd never seen her interact with a customer or visitor to the gallery, and she only showed up when something bad was about to happen. Some of the staff had started joking that she was a bad omen. Judging from the look on her face, she was about to live up to her reputation.

  "Hello, Ashlyn," she said, smiling at me. It definitely didn't reach her eyes, and I could feel the dread starting to build.

  "Hi, Shannon. I was just on my way out."

  "I just wanted to catch you before you leave. There's been some changes to our budget this quarter, you see. The state is cutting funding for some programs, and unfortunately the gallery has to... cut back on non-essential personnel."

  I felt cold all over because I knew what was coming. I swallowed hard. "Oh. That's...I'm sorry to hear that."

  "Me, too. It means we're going to have to tighten the belt around here, and unfortunately your position has been...eliminated."

  Sounded about right. "Eliminated. Okay."

  "Yes. But I want to thank you for your dedication and hard work. You've been a joy to have. We have a small severance set aside for you, and I can only hope that helps." She turned to walk away, and I spluttered, speaking up to stop her.

  "So I'm just. Done? Immediately?"

  "Oh. Yes. You don't need to come in for any more shifts. Your check will be in the mail. Have a good afternoon."

  She smiled again and I listened to the clack of her heels on the polished floor as she disappeared back into her office.

  It was a long drive home, after that. I was supposed to go to class, but I just... wasn't in the mood. I felt numb and defeated. I'd been so sure there was something I could do to turn everything around, and it was becoming pretty clear I was wrong about that. Everything fucking sucked.

  I was down to one part time job, I still had rent to pay, and there was a stack of mail waiting for me when I got back to my apartment and checked the mailbox. Most of it was bills, I was sure.

  When it rained it really did pour, to quote my dad. I was doing that a lot lately.

  I was at the end of my rope, honestly, and when I found a thick, manila envelope in the pile of mail with a familiar name on it, I squinted suspiciously, but I opened it.

  It was a contract, drawn up by Killian Abernathy's lawyer and hand delivered, apparently. I wasn't even surprised that someone like him had no problems finding out where I lived.

  There was a sticky note on the top of the sheaf of papers with a note written in blocky handwritten letters.

  'Just in case you change your mind, here are my terms. Give it a read.

  -Killian'

  I wanted to throw the whole thing into the trash where it belonged, but instead I sat down heavily on the couch and read it.

  Well, I tried to read it. Most of it was in legalese, and I didn't speak that language.

  I gathered that I was 'party B' in this scenario, and I scanned the first few pages to see what would be expected of me if I agreed to this stupid arrangement.

  'Wifely duties to be outlined further in section C'. I flipped to section C and once again felt like throwing the whole t
hing away.

  "Party B will be required to perform the following wifely duties at the leisure of Party A: sexual activities including but not limited to bondage and domination, spanking, oral sex with anal to be discussed," I read out loud. "Who the fuck does he think he is?"

  He didn't want a wife, he wanted a sex slave.

  Reading the list further, it didn't get any better. Apparently, I would be required to attend functions with him as his wife, including trips to his preferred 'social clubs'. Any dalliances I had with other men (or women, how incredibly progressive of him) were to be kept quiet and secret, and regular STD tests were necessary. He would offer me the same courtesy.

  Again… how very kind of him.

  I was fuming by the time I got to the end of it.

  It was absurd of him to think I, or anyone else, would agree to these demands, and I flipped back to the front, pleased to see there was contact information for the asshole.

  I punched his number into my phone and listened while it rang, ready to give him a piece of my mind.

  "Killian Abernathy," he said when he answered, voice smooth and professional. It made me want to reach through the phone and hit him in the face.

  "Who the hell do you think you are?" I demanded.

  "Excuse me? Who is this?"

  "I'll give you one guess," I said. "I'm someone who had a contract delivered today and wants to have a word with you about it."

  He laughed, and I gripped my phone tighter. "Ash, hello. You have an issue with the contract?"

  "I have an issue with you. First of all, don't send people to my apartment, it's fucking weird. Second of all, you've got to be crazy if you think I'm going to agree to all this shit. The wifely duties are a joke."

  "Really? I thought they were pretty reasonable, all things considered."

  "All things considered?"

  "You'll be my wife, Ash. Publicly, I can't be with anyone else, and I have a certain... lifestyle to maintain."

  "You're a pervert, you mean."

  "That's a little harsh. I might have certain proclivities, but that doesn't mean I'm a pervert. Like I said, I have a lifestyle. I can't abandon it for a year. It seems like a small price to pay for what you'd be getting out of it."

  The really irritating part was that he was right. Half of fifty million dollars after the year was up, along with whatever funds I needed to 'maintain my lifestyle' while we were married. It was more than enough to make sure I never had to feel the anxiety of not knowing how to make ends meet again. I could help my parents and my friends. I could donate to charities and set some aside for a banging retirement plan.

  Hell, with the right investing, I'd never have to work again.

  And all of that could be mine if I was willing to, what... let Killian tie me up and hit me with stuff? Have sex with him?

  I'd had sex with worse guys, I was pretty sure.

  It was just the principal of the thing that I couldn't get past. The way he'd written it all up in a contract that made it legally binding. I could just picture us in court arguing about whether or not I'd agreed to anal sex.

  It sounded like a headache, but the rest of my life was a disaster. Could I really afford to turn my nose up at this offer?

  Killian was quiet on the other end of the line, clearly giving me time to think things through.

  Maybe if I hadn't just been laid off an hour earlier, I might have been able to maintain my anger and tell him to go fuck himself. Maybe if I didn't have my landlord breathing down my neck about the rent. Maybe if I wasn't so exhausted from working two jobs and going to classes and constantly stressing about how I was going to keep going.

  I was desperate, and this was an out.

  It was just a year of my life. I could survive. Anything was better than having to give up on all my dreams and go crawling back to my parents a failure, right?

  "Fine," I said, sounding sullen and resigned.

  "Fine, as in...?" Killian prompted.

  "Fine, as in fuck you, you've got a deal. I need the money."

  "Excellent," he said, and I could practically hear him grinning over the phone. "Ash, thank you. I promise you it won't be as horrible as you think it will. There are worse things than being the wife of a very rich man for a year."

  "Yeah, like living in a cardboard box under an overpass," I muttered. "What happens now?"

  "Now, you sign the contract. Unless you have anything you'd like to add?"

  "Can I take some stuff out?"

  He laughed warmly. "No, those things are non-negotiable. But if you have any 'husbandly duties' you'd like to add, I can have my lawyer make some changes."

  "I don't even want to think too hard about you being my husband," I said. Saying the word was hard enough. "I'll just sign the damned thing."

  "Fine with me. Should I come pick it up or do you want to come meet me at my house?"

  The last thing I wanted was him coming over to see the squalor I lived in or whatever. "I'll bring it to you," I said.

  "Excellent. Now, what's the first thing you need paid off? I'm sure it's urgent."

  He said it blandly, like he didn't care either way, and I was grateful for that. "My rent," I said. "It's past due. And if I paid next month's early, then that would probably get my landlord off my back."

  He hummed into the phone and I heard him rummaging around in the background. "And that's what, a couple thousand?"

  "For rent? No, like. Fifteen hundred altogether."

  "Oh. Okay. Fifteen hundred for rent. I'll have a check waiting for you when you get here."

  "Fine," I said. "I'll come by tomorrow night after class. I'm busy tonight."

  "That's fine," he said. "I'll see you then."

  And that was it. With one phone call I'd saved my future and somehow damned myself all at the same time. I couldn't deny that it felt like a weight was lifted off of me, though.

  For the first time in weeks, I could breathe.

  I'd be able to pay off my rent and keep my landlord happy and stay in school. It wouldn't matter than I lost the gallery job, and I might even be able to quit the one at the coffee shop and just focus on school.

  I had options. God, when was the last time I'd had options?

  It felt like forever.

  I wanted to call my parents or a friend and tell them the news, but no one aside from Laura at work knew how badly I was struggling, and I definitely didn't want to tell anyone about Killian and our arrangement before I had to.

  It was bad enough that we'd have to be seen together in public at his social clubs or whatever.

  I'd agreed to it, and I went ahead and signed the contract with a flourish so there would be no going back on it.

  With mixed feelings, I decided to treat myself that night, and I ran a bath and ordered Chinese food for dinner, relaxing instead of worrying.

  The next day went by in a blur, and before I knew it, I was out of my last class of the day and headed to my car. The envelope from Killian's lawyer was burning a hole in my backpack, and I wanted to have this whole thing over and done with.

  I plugged his address into my phone so the GPS could route me, and I rolled my eyes when I saw the route took me out of the outskirts of the city where most reasonable people lived and right into the thick of it where there were high rise apartment buildings and penthouses that no one could afford to live in except for the super-rich.

  Clearly Killian counted as super rich.

  I sighed and started driving, turning my music up louder as I headed into the city proper.

  The building I pulled up to was one of those fancy places that went for minimalism over ostentatious design. There was no gold anywhere, and instead everything was done up in muted grays and sparkling silver.

  The front door was locked, of course, and I took a wild guess and buzzed the penthouse, waiting for an answer.

  "Ash?" Killian's voice said, echoing through the little speaker.

  "Yeah."

  "Come on up." The door clicked and swu
ng open, and I stepped in, afraid to make too much noise. Everything was clean and sleek, and I found the elevators easily enough, heading straight up to the top floor.

  All the while, I kept repeating to myself. ‘This isn’t a mistake. It’s just one year.” I hoped that by the time I reached Killian’s place—I’d believe it.

  Chapter 4

  Killian

  Ash stepped into my apartment, and her eyes went wide. I glanced around, trying to see it like she was seeing it, and I could understand how she felt.

  It was big, for one thing. It sprawled out, taking up the space that three regular sized units would, and it was probably at least that much bigger than her apartment judging from how low her rent was. I wasn’t judging her for her inability to pay it, of course. What did I know about how much part time jobs paid?

  "Well," she said, finally deciding to speak after a long minute of just staring around. "This is opulent."

  I couldn't help but laugh. I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard someone use the word 'opulent' seriously. But I supposed she wasn't wrong. "Sure," I agreed. "Let's go with that. First things first, do you have the contract?"

  She rolled her eyes and pulled the envelope out of the backpack she was holding, handing it to me. "Signed and everything."

  "Great," I said. "I'll trade you for this." I handed over the check I'd written the night before.

  "This is for more than I asked for," she said.

  I was flipping through the contract, distracted. "What?"

  "I asked for fifteen hundred for rent. This is for thirty-five hundred dollars, Killian."

  "Oh. Yes. I figured you have to pay for other things, too. Utilities. Food. Gas. Just consider it a . . . signing bonus."

  She stared at me for a long moment, and I half expected her to rip the check up and throw it back in my face or something. She was combative enough for that. Instead she just pressed her lips together and put the check in her bag.