Hunted by Billionaires Box Set

by Ryan Ramsay

  Chapter 13

  Jesse

  I can’t believe I did that.

  Two cocks in my mouth, one tongue up my pussy; this is who I am now. This is what I’ve become.

  I fucking love it. And I want more.

  It feels so good to be vulnerable and let myself go with them.

  Now I walk these lonely walls. The time is now a little past three; my gut tells me so.

  It feels strange, walking through door after door, numb to the death-defying attractions Mia and her people set up. I wonder in silent curiosity how huge this mansion is: we came by lift.

  There is a balcony nearby, and I race for the guardrails. I stop in my tracks, looking down on what appears to be a grand ball plucked out of a Kind novel. Tables long enough to fit tens of hungry people on either side are adorned in webbing and ghoulish candlelight.

  Red and black are the colors of the evening, and quiet piano chants haunt the vibrant and peeling walls. My fingers grip hard on the cold metal, scared for what I see below.

  Simon was right.

  Four coffins each open at the hatch reveal what he said to be true. God, the details. I walk away from the balcony, rubbing my eyes of it.

  I just go, walking, careful not to open any more doors that might lead to… anything else like that.

  I find different rooms, a few less haunting, some more haunted and others, quite frankly, plain white, as if boarding rooms in an asylum. I bid my time and rummage through every fabric, through every pillow and every wall panel trying to find it; the golden bracelet.

  With each crack of the door I peep inside and hope I find the bracelet and not some kind of pop-up from the shadows. Deep inside me, the thought of winning pushes me forth.

  What would actually happen if I win?

  Mia was quite flat about it.

  “This is the first time the virgin has chanced at winning the game before,” she said. “Usually she can only try to help one of the men find it, but not try to find it on her own.

  “So why now?” I asked, staring openly at the fire.

  “This is our first Halloween night event.”

  “Oh.”

  “No pressure.” She paused. “Aren’t you curious?”

  “About what?”

  “How I knew you were a virgin?”

  “I think I told you, or you read my mind. It goes either way.”

  Mia smiled and then considered the flame for a hard minute.

  “I know you’re wondering if this is all real.”

  “Anyone with a sane mind would.”

  “I started three years ago, right here in Newport. My work in sexual wellness even before college intrigued a few experts on the matter. These experts led me to another path, where they wanted to see if there could be more to sex that what our cultures dictate.”

  She pauses before continuing.

  “I indulged them with ‘mindful experiments of the social construct.’”

  “Which is…?”

  “Plucking the social norms and seeing what would make it, society, tick.”

  “I see.”

  “See, the way I saw it, people’s morality was pegged on the goodness of their inner souls. We believe we are making a world with rules and protocol because the good of people will always prevail. But in truth,” she sighed, “people are flawed, and they need a release. Sexual release is what the world needs.”

  “You think people are sick because they don’t have sex?”

  “Not quite.” She poked the fire with the prod easily hidden from view behind her. “I saw people as a means to an end. Their morality could easily be tamed. I sought to work this out.”

  I was intrigued.

  “It took months to perfect my findings. I got a farmer girl and a big city accountant to see if it would work. Two months later, even after all the plundering sex they could have, it didn’t work. A soccer mom and her best friend’s son still didn’t work. An altar girl and her mother’s gardener; nothing. A college dropout and a free-spirited hippie; almost, but not quite. Time was running out. My funding was going to get pulled. People were interested in my studies and had been backing them.”

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  “I finally hacked it, that’s what. Get a party who has nothing to lose, and match them with a party who has everything to fight for.”

  “Billionaires and virgins?”

  “Billionaires and virgins,” she said. “It was perfect. It worked. They did things you only read about in smut, and boy did things grow from there.”

  I turned to her, quizzical.

  “What does that mean?”

  She laughed, poking at the fire.

  “Nothing too dangerous, but I learned a few things about the heart. However, I feel I should share with you one thing.”

  I inched closer, tugging at the corners of my robe, edged at the stone seat. Her face grew lined and expressionless.

  “The people I work for are indeed powerful. Money means nothing to them. Whatever goes into the pot could very well be a weekend in Vegas, not even fit for a short holiday’s spending.”

  She turned and faced me solidly.

  “These people want fun. And they are watching. They are always watching. They hand-pick their favorite billionaires and watch their actions. They also watch the virgins and wait. Every move is never documented, luckily. They just like to see what happens.”

  We stare at each other mouths open, and minds abuzz.

  “Are they watching us now?”

  “No.”

  “That was too solid an answer, Mia.”

  “They never watch what happens here,” she said. “They only watch what happens after.”

  The green door opens to a marbled kitchen. White and black tile rap on each foot. The cups are shiny, the plates desolate and used.

  I step on an orange rind, almost slipping. Pots and pans clink quietly above the open cooker. Something makes this room different than the rest.

  “The real game is patience, Jesse. That’s what gets them off.”

  I swallowed a ball of air. “What happens if I win?”

  The corners of her lip curled sweetly. “You get to choose, dear. You win the whole pot and get to choose who you’re taking home.”

  Now, thinking of all of this, my skin gets tight.

  This happens on only on two occasions: when the air gets windy, or when my gut is flashing red flags. I turn and look up to the air vents. They make a soft whistling sound, kind of like what happens in a mall down at the washrooms.

  It’s just the wind, I tell myself.

  I come crashing down to the floor, hard, a weight above me pinning my entirety down. This must be a prank I’m sure. It must be.

  The cold glint of a knife cruises along the nape of neck.

  I hear him growl.

  Fuck.

  It’s not an attraction at Mia’s twisted theme mansion.

  This is real.

  I scream hard. Rough, gloved hands push deep against my tongue, muffling me. Simon laughs in the distance. I hear them chat, thinking it’s a prank.

  “She just wants to make out with you, dude.”

  Oh God, I hear Mike.

  “Mmmmm!”

  They laugh some more.

  “We can’t, Jesse, or else we forfeit the game.”

  They can’t be far. They could only be a few rooms away.

  “Mmmmmm!”

  “Try to call out again, and I promise you’re dead.”

  I do not know his voice.

  I do not recognize his touch.

  He flips me over and slaps me hard.

  I coil in disgust, in fear, but he makes for my clothes with his teeth and rips them fully apart.

  Blood seeps out of my thigh.

  He smears his tongue across it and smiles at me.

  I only see his eyes, his big brown eyes the color of mud. I dare not see the rest of his face.

  He pushes me down on the ground, pressing my chest against the
floor.

  My lungs are in pain.

  I feel my ribs almost crack under pressure.

  He ties my arms up behind my back, same with my legs.

  Oh, God.

  He wants me, but not like Simon, Jerry or Mike. He parts my thighs and makes enough room for him to fit.

  Oh, God.

  This is it and it’s awful.

  The grey lining of the tile boasts of a few ants that scramble for crumbs of bread at the far corner of the bottom oven.

  One of them, small, brown and fast stops in its tracks to look up, straight at me.

  It knows before I even think it.

  I’m going to die.

  Chapter 14

  Jerry

  The first time I hooked someone’s chin off, I was sixteen.

  My father had bought the boxing gym close to the sugary sweets stand, Mabel’s, where my best friend Esperanza and I would frolic every school night for some treats. It was a cool evening, I recall, and my blood sugar was low.

  “Why are you still reading that?” she asked.

  I put the new issue of the X Men on my lap and swatted a fly that was flying a little too close for comfort.

  “I’m not getting into this again. You know why I love it.”

  “But we’re just getting to the good parts of the evening. Look!” she pointed at a fading skylight. “Are you seriously going to punk out on me every time there’s a beautiful sunset? Come on. Look at it.”

  I did, smiling. It was the first of many nights to come when Esperanza would bully me into submission; to watch a sunset of all things. It took us three minutes to catch the last embers of a dying sun fading into the blackness of existence. She looked back at me when the mosquitoes flew around her long dark hair.

  “Okay. Take me home, nerd.”

  I scoffed and turned over the ignition. She sat heavily beside me, swiveling the last of the red berry pie along her braced teeth and down her tongue. We laughed. We sang. It was an amazing end to an amazing day. Until we got to her front door.

  A couple of her former friends were waiting for her. Blonde, leathered, high pants and looking for trouble; the classic 80s teenage gimmicks that really rubbed me the wrong way.

  “You never gave me what was promised, Es,” said the typical lead of the band.

  I slammed my door shut and walked ahead of her.

  “Leave her alone!” I shouted.

  “Oh, so the nerd’s gonna speak for you now?”

  “I’ll speak for myself, you bumbling idiot.”

  The group cooed. I got the sudden realization that they each had baseball hats. One of them smirked at a picnic blanket he had draped over his shoulder.

  “Listen here, you pretentious Brit,” he said. “She promised to get me off. I’m here to collect.”

  “That was a year ago, Steve.”

  Ah, yes. His name was Steve. I remember now.

  “And I didn’t say that. You got me drunk and taped me, remember?”

  “He taped you?” I asked her.

  She nodded. Esperanza had tears fall down her face at that point. I turned at good ol’ Steve, taking my stance.

  “Yeah, so what? A real man takes what he’s owed. And you, my sweet Latina ass, owe me at least three shots of Steve’s natural oil reserves,” he said, patting at his fly. He turned to me, smugly smirking. “As for you, nerd, go on home to daddy and let him buy you all the pussy in the world. Oh wait, you already have Esper—”

  Whap.

  That was it.

  Steve went down easily and didn’t come to school for a month, owing to the wire brace around his jaw that held it in place as it mended.

  I saw red then when he insulted my best friend.

  I see red now as I race across the haunted ballroom, through the drawing room, up the staircase, down another, past Mike and Simon in their camaraderie, and through a green door, where I know the scream came from. I bust it open, unsheathing the very real metal sword and pointing it right at him.

  “I will only say this once, friend. Get off her. Now.”

  “Or else what?”

  Seriously?

  “Or else I cut your fucking head off, that’s what. This isn’t plastic, old sport,” I say, reaffirming the blade against the metal pan on the stove with a solid, heavy clang.

  He takes his hands off of Jesse’s neck and raises them up.

  “Need I repeat?” I ask.

  He stands on his knees, then presses the ends of his thick boots to the floor, getting tall and very burly in front of me.

  “Good. Jesse, are you alright?”

  She’s mum as she crosses the floor, naked and in only a fraction of the witch suit. From what I can see from where I stand, she only has a cut on her thigh.

  “Don’t worry, Jesse. He won’t harm you anymore.” I turn to him. “On your knees.”

  He smiles under the weight of a heavy chest. I step forward, steady and unflinching. The man, well hidden under a shoddy ski mask, gets slowly to his knees.

  The door swings open behind me.

  Mike and Simon, finally.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  And Mia.

  Huh, I had not heard that tone in her voice yet before now.

  “What the fuck is this?” yells Simon.

  “I could ask the same thing,” I say, circling the man, headed for Jesse.

  She is visibly shaken as I touch her neck.

  She flinches.

  “Hey, it’s me. It’s Jerry.”

  She clings to my thighs hard. She is safe. I turn to the rest.

  “Mia, if you could explain how you know this masked man who is terrorizing your little Halloween gathering? This wasn’t part of the show, right?”

  Her hand is shamefully, painfully dragged across her visage. Exasperation is what I read.

  “He’s my ex,” Mia says. “What the fuck, Adam?”

  “How did you know?” the villain asks.

  “I know your cologne, you dumb fuck.”

  So that’s where the smell is from.

  “Dumb fuck?” he asks, peeling off his mask.

  “Jesus, Adam?” Simon calls out.

  I know I’ve seen this guy before.

  “You’re one to talk, coming here like horny animals.” Adam trudges forward.

  I swing the sword in a menacing fashion, staving him off.

  “I followed you,” he says. “I followed you when I saw the email breech back at the office.”

  Holy fucking shit. I know where I’ve seen his mug.

  “Adam, what do you want?” asks Mia.

  “What do I want?” he laughs maniacally. “I want to cut a deal with you, with all of you. I’ve gathered enough to know how much money is at stake, and I’m not leaving till you wire it all to me.”

  Fuck. Alex Hayworth, the partner at our subsidiary company. That’s who he is. He was at the party, dancing with Moira.

  I’ve worked with this guy. I know him.

  “You fucking asshole, Adam!” yells Simon, readying his fists and shoving Mia, rather gently, out of the way.

  Adam stifles, then lunges forward.

  “Wait!” Mia cries out, standing between two men bearing fists. “We are not animals.”

  She turns to Simon, Mike, then to me.

  “Stop.” She turns to Adam. “Why?”

  “Why?” he asks incredulously. “You fucking leave me hanging on my birthday, just like that, and you ask me why?”

  Mia sighs.

  “Oh, finally, a reaction to the situation at hand,” Adam says. “I knew you were a psycho, Mia, but this is an all-time low, even for you. I heard rumors, stories, of what you had been up to ever since you dumped me on our anniversary.”

  He sniffs.

  “You’re a slut, aren’t you? Spare me the trouble and tell it. You’re a fucking slut.”

  “You’ve got a lot of balls, man, talking like that with a real sword aiming for your best features,” I say, not flinching one bit.<
br />
  Adam scoffs, hard.

  “You are all,” he says, pointing with a thick, gloved finger, “insane. Do you have any idea what you’re doing? It doesn’t matter how many billions you make, boys, or how many years it took you to build your practice. I know what this can do your careers. And I have half a mind to take you to the authorities.”

  “With what?” asks Mike, bull-chested. “You have no proof of anything, other than us being in a weird Haunted House dressed up in costumes at the witching hour of a national, if not international, holiday. So, show us, pray tell, show us what you’ve got as standard proof.”

  My gut tells me that was the wrong thing at exactly the right time, to say.

  Adam pulls his arm back.

  “Ey, ey! Slowly,” I say.

  “Relax. It’s just my phone.”

  He swipes at the tablet screen and holds it up, showing it to all our faces; the three of us naked on the floor in a dark hallway, having our way with Jesse.

  “Jesus Mia, how did you—?”

  “It’s recorded?” asks Simon hastily.

  “Of course it’s recorded. We have top of the line technology here that records everything, just in case. But it is done safely and never leaked to outside sources.” She turns to Adam, a fire of fury in her eye. “You still haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?”

  “Money,” he answers simply, tucking his phone back into his winter coat. “You guys are rich, more than you know what to do with. You will wire me three million, and add another five, just for pissing me off and another two for waving that nasty blade at my face. You should know better, Jerry,” he says to me in savage smugness, “You know someone’s always watching.”

  He turns to Mia. I follow with the corner of my eye. She still stands undefeated.

  “You left me for this? This life?” Adam continues. “Jesus, Mia, if it was the money, you should have talked to me. This is just obscene. People have been talking. They’ve been saying all these things about you, especially after that event last year.”

  She stifles.

  “Oh yeah, I heard all about it,” Adam says. I wish he would just shut the fuck up by now. “Is this why you went on and spied on my friends? How many more people have you had dead set on your eyes, watching, waiting for the opportunity to pounce on them and sell them your perverted little treasure hunt game? Tell me, my love, does this feel real enough to warrant that cold calculating carcass of a black hole you call a soul? Go on, tell me.”