Hunted by Billionaires Box Set

by Ryan Ramsay

  The gust of fresh wind with the oncoming sunlight hit me hard. I realized I was still in only my underwear.

  Eyes skated.

  Older and worn faces sneered.

  I didn’t care.

  I was done.

  I promised myself to never fall prey to such men ever again. But the thing is, even after they found me and put me to work, his promise still rung true at the back of my mind.

  “I will find you Mia Ling. And I will ruin your life for this.”

  He kept his word.

  In my last event for Jesse, he came uninvited and unannounced. He found me. He threatened to expose what I have worked so hard to build. My life for the past year has not been so great, with my guard up and my investors wired.

  I know it wasn’t the last time I saw my ex. I just know.

  “May we be seated,” says Pastor Jones. “Praise the—”

  The little girl from Missouri is winning.

  She is not to be messed with.

  She fights.

  Never again will she stand under a man’s cock and be slaved for his pleasure.

  No.

  She chose, I chose, at that moment under the sun that I would be successful, more so than Alex ever would be.

  But he’s here.

  He knows what I do.

  He threatens to expose my secrets.

  It will never happen.

  No matter the cost, it will never happen again.

  Chapter 3

  Mia

  “He did what?”

  Amy sips on her mimosa spiritedly.

  “You heard that right. He ate me out while I was on the phone with grandma.”

  “Damn, sis.”

  Christy pulls back her elbow and crunches a crack from her shoulder. The brown rhinestone across her neck looks amazing on her.

  “Do you think she could tell?”

  Her sister swallows hard.

  “When I came, I tried to cover the mouthpiece. His tongue was still in action when I calmed down. And then, just when my body throttled, her voice carved through me. That’s the way to go, dear. I swear I almost had a heart attack.”

  We laugh openly and I try to scratch the itch at the back of my hand.

  “She actually heard you cum?”

  Her face contorts.

  “Sadly, yes. I’m meeting with her over the weekend. She wants to give me conjugal advice.”

  Christy cringes. Amy turns to her, a laugh imminent.

  “You’re next.”

  “God I hope not,” adds Jesse. She calmly pats the dress over her thick thighs and smoothes a crease over.

  “My dad did not take any of this lightly. He’s still mad, right?”

  I realize that this question is for me.

  “I saw him on Sunday.”

  My throat dries. I slick my tongue across the roof of my mouth, trying to wet it. My face is as blank as it can be.

  “He was a little stiff. But he’s always like that, right?”

  “Not always. Not since mom.”

  Jesse’s mother had a mild case of dementia. The last time Jesse came home, her mother had just seen her off to college.

  She existed only in a time loop, unbreakable, but the delight and comfort of the same home with the same furniture with the same smells and the same recipes helped her feel comfortable and retain as much of her memory as she could. To the unknowing eye, you couldn’t see the damage.

  “At least I’ve got my brother though. He writes weekly. Sends photos when he can, too,” she adds.

  I lift my hand and rest it upon her arm, the one free of forked lasagna.

  She receives my warmth in kind.

  “What about you, Mia? What’s going on with you?” asks Stephanie.

  She startles me. The First of Many has always had a soft-spoken attitude, soft enough to be missed. A little gust blows past her hair. The blue sky above matches her deep eyes.

  “Well,” I start, trying my best to be less cavalier that I feel, “life has been quiet. Ever since the Halloween night last year, and that whole scare, I’ve tried to keep it together.”

  Jesse recoils.

  I rub her arm assuredly.

  The girls smile weakly in consolation, trying to ease the moment.

  Jesse nods.

  I take it as a go-ahead.

  “Alex has brought up an issue with the whole business. My investors have made it clear that anything like an intrusion can never be tolerated again.”

  “But the tech,” Jesse objects. “The security is so top notch. How did he get into the mansion?”

  “Alex has always been tech savvy. He found a way to intercept Simon’s communications. I don’t know how, since we use military grade software.”

  I pause, trying not to go down that rabbit hole. My lungs give out a soft wheeze.

  “But we’re alright. I’m alright. Work is work. Newport is still an unsullied lot of land where dreams either die hard or burn bright.”

  “Baby girl, if he is such a pest,” says Amy, “why don’t we have my boys man-dog him?”

  “You mean threaten him?” I pursue.

  She rolls her eyes.

  “Semantics. They work in the same law firm, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, it will be easier to corner him and give him a word or two.”

  “Alex is not the kind of guy to go down that easy. A fight will only spice up the tempo.”

  “She’s right, Amy,” says Stephanie. “Violence begets violence. The Billionaire Hunt business will die. You know how hot-headed a man can be, yes?”

  “So, what do you suggest?” asks Jesse.

  Stephanie sighs.

  “Using our brains is the only way out,” she says. “It always has been.”

  **

  The door feels cool on my back. The sweet ambience of a clean and empty apartment bathes over me as I kick off my flats and tuck them neatly by the end of the rack.

  My right ankle feels strained. I shift and balance my way towards the footstool by the covered window.

  I drop my handbag and lean low, taking the fall and lunging into the soft fiber hard.

  My head cranes back to the pincushion on the seat of the recliner and I awkwardly lay-sit-stand for a moment.

  I need to breathe.

  The phone rings.

  Twice.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Mia!”

  “Ashley.” I sit up straight and glide my ass upwards to the back of the recliner. “It’s been a minute.”

  She hadn’t been able to put up with our strict, controlling parents and had left home quite a while ago. I really couldn’t blame her, although at times in the past our relationship was strained because our parents pitted us against each other, using us as pawns in their sick and twisted games.

  “Yeah it has! How’s my favorite little sister doing?”

  “Great. Are you okay?”

  “Typical,” she says resignedly. “The first time I call you in three years and you jump to conclusions.”

  “I’m not jumping to anything sis.” I sigh. “I’m just expressing my concern. Like you said, it’s been three years.”

  “And you never wrote, never texted, not even an ice cream emoji to any of us—”

  “Ash, are we going to argue? If we are, please let me know so that I may call you later. Now is not the best time. I’ll even send you that emoji later. Do you want chocolate or vanilla? But not now.”

  “Are you okay?”

  I haven’t been asked that in a while, especially not from family.

  “I am. It’s just work.”

  “You are so like mom, you know that? All she ever wanted were your A’s and certificates; nothing short of perfection.”

  “And yet you’re the one in college.”

  “How times have changed.”

  “How the tables have turned.”

  She snickers.

  After a moment, I smile and break into a chortle.

&nbs
p; “I miss you, Mia. You know that, right?”

  “I know. I miss you too.”

  “Then come to college. We could be great together. Parties and study sessions in the locked-up recesses of the library; we could be like Bad Girls; you know what I mean?”

  “Jeez, that sounds like a bad rip-off, Ash.” She laughs. The sound of an engine whizzes by on her end. “But I would love to, eventually. Are you indoors?”

  “Nah. I’m having dinner at this diner off Holywell Street. Garden salad with a plate of onion rings. That balances the whole thing out, right?”

  “I don’t think college is my kind of energy, Ash. Besides, work isn’t so bad anyway.”

  “Really? And what job is this that would make you shun Oxford that bad?”

  “Insurance,” I say, purely on instinct.

  “Fuck off.”

  “The dental, medical, and commission are actually pretty good. Plus, I make a decent living that gives me enough time to read my novels.”

  She pauses briefly.

  “It would be nice if you wrote one. I wouldn’t mind showing off my sister’s romance thrillers in my biology class.”

  I laugh.

  “Maybe I should write one, but that’s for another time, sis. I should let you go back to your balanced binges. I’ll write to you—”

  “She misses you, too. You should visit when—”

  “No.”

  “It’s been four years, sis. You can’t be angry after all this time.”

  “But I am. Or would you like to tell me how I feel?”

  “Hey, I’m the one trying to build bridges, sis. You don’t have to—”

  “I’ll write to you, Ashley. Enjoy the rings.”

  I slam the receiver on the plastic plate and bump my fingers.

  Well, fuck.

  Ashley really knows the buttons to push. Trying to make the past dissolve on its own is no easy feat.

  It’s something I am not willing to even try. And what was that about school? Mia Ling gives up an almost eight-figure salary to write romance books? No way.

  She was the sister I could not get past.

  I always had to compete with her accolades.

  Swimming.

  Spelling bee.

  First kiss.

  Scholarship.

  I hated it.

  And now, watching the blinds flutter in the pressure-controlled AC, I realize what she and Alex have in common.

  My singular hatred for them in the past.

  But now, I’m open to trying to mend things with my sister.

  Alex, though, can go jump off a bridge.

  Chapter 4

  Scott

  The bitter taste of almonds and whiskey wakes me up. It has been a long day, and the glint of a golden watch from the silly little man sitting by the rooftop gallery laughing his head off to something or other that his assistant said isn’t helping.

  Clearly, he’s trying way too hard for a sneak preview at her inner thighs.

  He disgusts me.

  This drink, however, puts a sordid smile on my already worn face.

  Life in Chelmsford has never been as inviting as the day prior. Cold weather and colder women make up for the lackluster ambience in the air.

  I wish I had listened to mother. Money only buys what is needed at the time. After that, it all means shit.

  I sit at the barstool, hoping for some privacy. The last deal with the oil conglomerate didn’t go so well.

  Fucking oligarchs.

  They always think they know what’s best. At least they’ve got that going for them. And a whole bunch of money, of course.

  I need something to get me out of this rut. Jerking off isn’t even fun anymore. Neither is Moira from the gentleman’s club down at the Black Cobs.

  I need—

  “Can I buy you a drink, man?”

  “What?”

  The man in the black jacket and charcoal grey pants sit next to me.

  His smile is crooked.

  “I asked if I could buy you a drink,” he repeated.

  “Sorry. I don’t swing that way.”

  “I don’t want to suck your dick, Scott. I just want to talk, man to man.”

  The drink slips through my throat more slowly as I take the moment to observe him.

  He’s reserved.

  Mysterious.

  Rude.

  “And how did you know my name?”

  “Who the fuck doesn’t know who Ridley O’Malley Scott is? Plus, I just got here.”

  “You work here? At the firm?”

  “Since last Friday. I’m Alex, by the way.” He flicks his chin up to the bartender. “Three fingers, please. Johnnie. Neat.”

  I nod at William and smile.

  “Make it a fist and keep the ice ready.”

  Alex stymies a laugh.

  “So, what do you want to talk about, Alex?”

  “Business; how I can make yours do better.”

  I chuckle.

  “Because I made my fortune begging for scraps from tipsters who claim to get their money’s worth?”

  “Your competition. I know how to get rid of it.”

  Is he talking about another firm?

  My elbow itches.

  That always means I’m intrigued.

  William sets the glasses before us right on cue, his goatee tingling.

  “Let’s talk.”

  **

  “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” I exclaim, after he’s told me that there’s a treasure hunt type game in which men hunt a prize and the winner takes the woman’s virginity.

  Not only that, but sometimes she’s down for a gangbang and they all fuck her at once, if they increase the price they’re willing to pay.

  “It was the same for me too, up until I got proof.”

  “You have proof?”

  He glitches.

  We’re several drinks in now, and he seems happy to be telling me this crazy story.

  “No. But I saw it with my own eyes last year.”

  “Tell me again what it is you saw.”

  Alex breathes in heavily.

  “I’ll do you one better. I’ll tell you what I know. So, there is this girl.”

  “Mia Ling,” I add.

  “Mia Ling, whom I once loved so deeply, who is the center of it all. She finds, or recruits, the super wealthy and introduces them to this game.”

  “You lost me there. How does she recruit the wealthy?”

  “She sends an encrypted invitation via email. I don’t know the selection process, but the last time I hacked into the surveillance feed, I could make out a back door. It took me a while, but I finally hacked it.”

  His eyes gleam with pride.

  “I finally got to know how she selects them, and buddy, you’re on the list.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You are the wealthiest man in this building; dare I say this entire northern part of the county. Is it that surprising?”

  “No,” I say, after a pause. “But why won’t you go?”

  He blinks furiously.

  “Why?”

  “I’m not the only self-made billionaire in the house, Alex. I know who you are as well. What I don’t understand” – I lean in closer — “is why you have such a pure hatred for the woman. If you know how she works and what she really does, why don’t you put an end to it yourself?”

  He leans back, resigned. I can smell the angst in his blood, the way he looks up and then to his side, watching the patrons move around us serving super spiked Kombucha or Jell-O shots.

  His gaze moves back towards me, and I watch with bated breath as he moves his thick jaw, ready to spill the truth.

  “I loved her, Scott. I still do. And this is the only way to make her see, to make her stop this madness. Don’t you get it? This is how she comes back to me.”

  “So that’s your win-win scenario — she fails at a business in which she has successfully hooked some of the most elitist sons of bitch
es on the planet, and she comes back to you, straight on?”

  “Yes. I’ll protect her.”

  “How sure are you that you can? She threatened you the last time you sought out that role.”

  He pauses, and then says, “This time I’ll be ready for her. All you have to do is go to the game. That’s it. I’ll set it all up, and I’ll ask for a special Thanksgiving edition and I’ll make sure Mia is there and that it all goes according to plan. In exchange, I’ll give you dirt on your opposing counsel and their case. You will be sure to win at trial. Plus, I guarantee you’ll have a fun time at the Hunt. Once you’re in, have fun, play around, and gather the intel I’m telling you about. Are you in?”

  The tumble of the corrosively smooth swill goes down my throat hard. I plank the glass down and smack my tongue across my cheek.

  If I do this, I’ll get enough leverage over my opposing counsel. If I don’t, free—relatively free— pussy flies away with some condescending asshole.

  I wasn’t sure the part about winning my case is true, although I would definitely like to earn millions at trial. But even if the part about being able to take a virgin who is down to fuck dirty and kinky is true, that sounds really good to me.

  “On Thanksgiving, you say?” I ask him.

  “Yes. It’ll signify a new harvest. New beginnings for everyone. Especially me.”

  “Okay,” I tell him, ignoring what an egotistical asshole he seems to be. “What do I do?”

  Alex has what he wants, his final accomplice.

  He smiles wickedly as he orders for another round from William, the bartender.

  I notice the bar has gotten a little bit livelier.

  Chapter 5

  Adam

  This had better be worth the time. I missed a special Thanksgiving appointment appointment with Princess Ashula of Swaziland, off the coast of Catalonia’s Barcelona. I’ll get an earful for missing our deep massage tissue date on the wide berth of the SS Magdalena; of this I am sure. But after that enticing email, I would be a fool to ignore the calling.

  The secrecy was more than an appetizer. It was temptation.