by Alexx Andria
“A little extreme don’t you think?” I said, gesturing to the empty bar.
“If I’d given you my phone number, would you have called?” My silence was answer enough and he smirked with knowing. “I didn’t think so. Rarely do I waste effort on doomed ventures. I prefer the direct approach to success.”
“Catchy — you should put that on a business card.”
“Business is what I’m about. Please, have a seat.”
I slowly sank into the chair, wary. “What kind of business could you and I possibly do together?" I asked. “Are you thinking of opening a bar because basically I have cocktail waitressing and bartending experience.”
“I’m sure there are other things you are good at.”
“Well I guess if you really want to know, I'm pretty good at making poor decisions and jumping to conclusions. Is that a skill set you can put to work?”
He chuckled, his eyes glinting as he poured two shots, sliding one toward me. “You’re funny. Not many are willing to speak so freely to me.”
I smirked. “Why not? Are you a prince or something?”
“No.”
He didn't elaborate and his tone didn’t encourage more questions. My gaze went to the shot he’d poured. I never accepted drinks that I didn’t pour myself.
“What’s this really about?” I asked. “You know this is totally creepy, right? Just cut to the chase and tell me what you really want so we can get this over with.”
“Good. I hate chit-chat,” he said, pleased that I wanted to get to the point. “My name is Gage Rochester. I hate social media as well as the paparazzi so chances are slim that you’ve ever heard of me but if it did interest me, I’d land in the top 100 Richest Men in America.”
“Only America?” I lifted my brow with healthy sarcasm.
But he didn’t bristle at my sarcasm, instead replied, “I believe there’s a Saudi Prince that edged me out of the Top 100 Richest Men in the World list but I can still pay my bills, so I don’t mind.”
“Is this where I act impressed that you can afford to rent out a dive bar for the night?” I asked, the corners of my mouth twitching. Secretly, I was a little impressed but the man didn’t need to know that.
Gage shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him whether I was impressed or not, he’d simply been stating fact. “It's not often that I find people interesting. People bore me quickly but there’s something about you that I like. You haven’t bored me yet.”
“Oh, such praise. I'm humbled I've piqued your interest. If you came for tricks, sorry to disappoint you but I’m no show pony.”
But the way his gaze slid down my body made me think differently. There was a banked hunger in his eyes that made the temperature rise in the room. I didn’t want to feel anything for the crazy rich man, much less anything resembling desire, but he was nice to look at, I couldn’t deny it. I deliberately flicked my gaze away.
“How’d you end up in Jimmy’s?”
“The most interesting people are the ones who don't hide behind their money,” he answered, downing his shot. “Plus it reminds me of where I grew up.”
I scoffed, “Are you saying you grew up poor? Or you grew up around drunks?”
His cool smile was my only answer. Okay, so maybe both. “What about me intrigued you?" I asked, playing the game, but sue me, I was curious, too.
“Two weeks ago, I watched you shut down a mean drunk trying to grab your ass. You broke his finger.”
I remembered the incident. “I don't enjoy being touched without permission. He learned that the hard way."
The guy had been typical of Jimmy’s usual bottom-feeder. If given half the chance, the guy would happily rape a woman if he thought he wouldn’t get caught. I’d felt zero guilt for breaking his bones.
“He isn’t likely to make the same mistake twice.”
I smirked. “Not with me, he won’t.”
Gage chuckled, that gleam in his eye brightening as he followed with a bold as fuck query that sent a shock wave down my spine.
“So tell me…how do you like to be touched…when permission has been granted?”
5
I stared, his bald question leaving no room for misunderstanding. The heat between us intensified, nearly crackling with tension. There was something about him that screamed SEX even if I didn’t want to think of his naked body working mine.
I wasn’t the type to go Marilyn-Monroe-breathless but my heart skipped a beat when his gaze pinned mine.
“Pretty bold don’t you think?” I finally shot back, shaking my head at his balls. “Maybe you’re not my type.” I added with a shrug, “Maybe I’m a lesbian.”
“Are you?”
I couldn’t lie. “No.”
He laughed. “Okay, then where’s the harm in telling me what I want to know?”
“Because sharing that information would imply that I was interested in letting you touch me — which I’m not.”
Another lie. He had sexy on blast but this was exactly how problems started in my life. I ignored common sense and went with my feelings. Not anymore. Nope. Going to use my head from now on.
Mom and dad would be so proud. Ha!
But Gage had an agenda and he was putting plans in motion, no matter my opinion on the matter. “I want you, Mari,” Gage stated, leaning back, kicking his leg out casually beneath the scratched and ruined table. “Name your price.”
“N-name my price?” I stuttered, incredulous. “What does that mean? And what makes you think I even have a price that I would offer? I’m not a vendor at a flea market, ready to haggle over an item…especially when that item is me.”
His smirk did crazy things to my belly even as his answer pissed me off fresh. “Everyone has a price. Even you. I'm willing to bet your price is a lot lower than you think it would be.”
Oh, hell no, what? “Did you just insult me?”
“Not at all. Just sharing a bit of what I know about human nature.”
“Well, you don’t know shit about me,” I said, rising. “I’m done with this ridiculous game. I don’t care how rich you are, you can’t buy me.”
Fuck Manny and his greed. He could find someone else to pander to the rich asshole, I was out.
“You’re broke. You’ll be homeless by the end of the month because you can’t pay your rent and something tells me you aren’t going to make enough in tips to get what you need by month’s end.”
His calm voice at my back froze my feet. I turned slowly. “How the fuck do you know my personal business?”
He waved away my question as if I were naive. “Nothing is private, sweetheart. I can get everything I need to know about you with the push of a button. Financial records are the easiest.” He paused only to punctuate his point. “Is my intel wrong? Do you have a secret stash of cash in your mattress that you’re holding onto for a rainy day?”
No, he wasn’t wrong but holy hell, what the fuck? “I’m pretty sure what you did was illegal but I’m very certain poking around in someone else’s bank account is, at the very least, rude.”
He shrugged as if he didn’t care. “Perhaps,” he admitted, offering, “I’m not judging you; I’m here to offer you a fair sum of money for your services.”
As if that made it any better.
“Yeah? Well, I’m judging you pretty hard right now,” I shot back, trying not to think of the wad of cash in Manny’s office.
I folded my arms across my chest. Maybe he was offering me a job? Like a legit way to earn some cash. I guess I’d be stupid to walk away before learning the details. “Money to do what?” I asked, giving him a sidewise glance so he knew I still thought he was shady.
He gestured for me to return to my seat. I didn’t want to — my dignity screamed at me to give him the middle finger and stomp out — but the realist in me, set my feet in motion.
The least I could do was listen, right? Maybe he needed a bartender or waitress for some fancy shindig.
“Spend the night with me.”
“Excuse me?” He didn’t deign to repeat himself, leaving me to stare. “Spend the night with you…to do what?”
“Whatever I choose.”
Ohhh, hell no. “No thanks. I’m not stupid. No amount of money will replace my face if you decide you want to wear it.”
At that he actually laughed. “See? I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”
“I’m not kidding. No way.”
He sobered but the faint reminder of his amusement sparkled in his eyes as he scribbled a number on a bar napkin and pushed it toward me. “Since you wouldn’t name a price…I’ll start the opening offer.”
Opening offer? What was this Sotheby’s, Dive Bar Style? “I’m not for fucking sale,” I told him, irritated that he refused to listen. I opened my mouth to tell him to stuff the napkin where the sun didn’t shine but my gaze snagged on the amount.
So many zeroes.
The spit dried in my mouth. Was he insane? I stared, incredulous.
“You’re fucking with me. No one would pay that kind of money for the night.”
“I would.”
“Why?”
“My reasons are my own. Just say yes.”
Indecision paralyzed me for a telling moment. I hated that I was even hesitating. Was there something wrong with me that I was actually considering his offer?
Of course there was! If anyone had tried to slide the same offer to my twin, Tara, she would’ve sent that offer straight back to them so fast their head would’ve spun off their shoulders.
But I wasn’t Tara.
I was the fuck-up, Mari.
The one who who’d never pulled good grades in school; the one who’d flirted with and fantasized about her softball coach; the one who’d gotten kicked off the cheer squad for ditching school and getting caught drunk off-campus.
Yeah, like I said, I’d never been in the running for the award of Smartest Decision Maker or sadly even, Most Inspirational.
That’d always been Tara’s department.
But I could start, right?
I could ignore that desperate fear of becoming homeless and tell him to fuck off.
I could swallow my pride and ask my grandparents for money to finally return home. Yes, asking for the money would burn like fire in my gut and likely score my soul forever but at least I’d have my dignity intact.
What if I discovered my dignity wasn’t worth all that much and I would’ve much rather sacrificed my morals for a little security?
Yeah, but equally, what if, when Tara found out, she never looked at you the same way again?
As much as I talked crap about my twin…her opinion of me mattered. I swallowed the sticky lump in my throat as my head swam but I still managed to eke out, “You must be deaf. I said no.”
I was feeling pretty proud until he said, “Add another zero, I don’t care, but you’re leaving with me tonight.”
And things just got real.
Real complicated.
Or, maybe, they just got a little easier.
6
“Why?” I managed to squeak the word, my eyes nearly bulging at the figure he was offering. “I don’t understand…why are you doing this? You’re a decent looking guy. You could be knee-deep in pussy if you wanted — for free, no less — why are you willing to pay for me?”
“Because I don’t want entanglements,” he answered with a negligent flick of his gaze. “I sense you’re not the kind of woman looking for a hero or someone to save you, so you’re not going to get clingy when I’m through with your company.”
Cold as fuck, but logical. I couldn’t fault him for knowing what he wanted and what he didn’t want.
He leaned forward, close enough so that I could smell the spice of his pricey cologne. “I also like what I see,” he said, reaching to pull my chair closer, proving a fair amount of muscle lurked beneath that unassuming T-shirt. My heart fluttered as he invaded my bubble. “Since the moment I saw you, I’ve been fantasizing about those long legs, wondering how you’d feel wrapped around me as I pound the shit out of that sweet pussy. And that long, dark hair…mmmm….your even darker eyes…in my mind, I’ve fucked you a hundred times already and I’m impatient for the real thing. I want to hear you cum and I want to taste you when you gush.”
Was I totally cracked in the head thinking that was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard?
He didn’t use flattery — which wouldn’t work on me, anyway — he just flat-out stated the raw truth.
God, I was a sucker for a direct man.
“I want you, Mari and I’m willing to pay.”
Couldn’t get more direct than that.
“What if I’m not for sale?” I practically whispered, my throat dry.
“Everyone has a price,” he replied, patient yet firm.
I lost all sense of time — all that existed was the charged air between us — and I found myself drawn to those dangerous lips as if a giant magnet was buried in my forehead and I was helpless to stop.
But it was Gage who pulled away, even as his eyes gleamed with heat and the energy between us swirled with sexual tension. He shifted in his chair, drawing attention to his obvious erection.
Of course, my eyes went straight to that bulge and I actually blushed like a virgin on prom night. He grinned and jerked his head toward the napkin lying between us with the obscene offer scribbled on the cheap square. “What’s it going to be?”
If I said yes, did that make me a whore? Could I afford to care?
Being homeless wasn’t appealing. Neither was stripping. The Pink Lady was a worse dive than Jimmy’s. I’d probably get some kind of STD just walking through the glittery pink doors.
Gage was hot, rich and even if he was a self-entitled prick, he wasn’t asking for forever.
Saying yes would solve all my problems. I could even go home if I wanted.
No more suffering through New York winters in an apartment with less insulation than a wood shack.
No more dodging grubby fingers trying to touch my tits or grab my ass.
No more feeling like a total and complete failure for falling so ingloriously on my face.
All those things were true but could I live with myself after the deed was done? Could I look myself in the mirror and not see a woman whose only value had been between her legs?
“Make your choice,” Gage instructed, pushing me toward the inevitable.
Who was I kidding? There wasn’t a choice for me and he knew the way I would choose when he made the offer. A part of me grudgingly marveled at his ability to read people but another part of me hated that I was far less complex than I liked to think I was.
Most people, myself included, liked to think they were hard to figure out.
“How do I know you’re not just telling me whatever I want to hear so you can get into my pants for the night?”
“Would you like a good-faith payment?” he asked as if it were a simple business transaction between us, not me selling my dignity and agreeing to be his beck-and-call-girl.
“Something like that would be great,” I answered, though I had no idea how to facilitate that. I assumed he would know. “Half up front,” I tacked on boldly as if I had experience in these kinds of negotiations.
He chuckled as he countered, “Half and I get to taste you right here and now.”
My tongue unstuck from the roof of my mouth. “Taste me? Here?”
“Right here.”
There was relative privacy because the bar was empty and Manny was, no doubt, chortling over his money stash, lost in a delirium over how he would spend his good fortune but we were still out in the open.
Knowing Manny, he would blow the lot of it trying to be a high-roller at a poker game where he was outmatched and underfunded but that was his problem.
My problem was staring at me with those incredible eyes.
“Say yes.”
The murmured directive sent a shiver dancing down my spi
ne.
The moment was here. If I hesitated much longer, the offer would dry up and I’d be in the same position I was in this morning — about to lose everything, even my cat.
Miss Switch.
I could hire a good lawyer if I took the deal. I could hire a shark mean enough to chew Landon up and spit him out, maybe even run him out of New York, if I chose.
The idea of beating Landon after he’d humiliated me so completely made the decision less difficult.
“I’ll do it.”
“Good choice.” He swiped right on his phone, grinned, saying, “Done. Half of my offer is in your bank account. Feel free to check.”
He waited patiently as I fumbled with shaking fingers to check my banking app. My mouth gaped. A pending deposit of a ridiculous sum was processing. Even with only half, by morning my troubles would be over. I looked up to find him watching, a slow, feral smile fitting to his lips.
Before I could say anything, he jerked me into his arms and I landed squarely on his solid lap. My arms went automatically around his neck for stability. “From this moment forward, until I release you…you are mine. Understand?”
I nodded, unsure of the rules of this game. “What does that mean?”
“It means, your body is mine to explore, touch and pleasure. You cum with my permission, you exist to please me. You do nothing without my express permission. Do you understand?”
I nodded, a strange thrill tickling my belly. There was something unbelievably hot about surrender that I never would’ve imagined or believed but coming from Gage…I totally got it.
“Good girl,” he said with a husky growl of approval that I felt all the way to my toes. I was out of my element, a bit scared, but excited, too. Gage’s firm touch on my ass, commanding and yet gentle, guided me to straddle him.
“And what if you never get tired of me?” I asked.
“As beautiful as you are…nothing holds my interest for long,” he answered as his mouth found mine, his hands gripping my ass.
He thought I was beautiful? My feminine pride preened at the unexpected compliment. I wasn’t often called beautiful. Most times, I was labeled quirky, cute, or unique, but rarely beautiful.
