by Snow, Jenika
The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk, and he tilted his head to acknowledge her request. She took that moment to stare at how the material of his suit jacket stretched across his shoulders. The muscles were clearly evident, and she let the idle thought of what he would look like without any clothes pass through her mind.
She could just imagine all those hard, defined muscles straining and flexing as he moved. Was his flesh tanned or creamy white?
“Miss Vincent?” His voice was close, very close. Stella looked up and saw Tate standing right in front of her, his brow raised and the glass of alcohol for her in his outstretched hand. She muttered a thank-you. When took a drink of the liquid, she nearly sputtered it all over his desk and on his pristine white carpet. It was like fire water down her throat, and she couldn’t contain the gasp and cough that followed. Tate’s laugh was rich and dark, just like the liquor she consumed.
“So, what is it exactly you want from me? More time? The deed to your childhood home back? Forgiveness for your father’s debt?”
God, he sounded like such an asshole. She gripped the glass tighter, staring at him as he made his way to a leather couch in the center of the room. His big body sprawled on the leather. Legs slightly apart and arms behind him on the back of the couch, Tate Wessen looked like he didn’t have a care in the damn world. Truth be told, he probably didn’t.
“I’ve been called many things, Stella, but a forgiving man isn’t one of them. So, I’ll ask you again, what is it that you want from me?”
How in the hell should she answer? Might as well just spit it out. “I’m not trying to get out of paying you. I just need more time. You have to realize it is impossible for someone to pay back an exorbitant amount like that in only seven days.” What she wanted to tell him was, who in the hell dished out that kind of money to a man who was clearly an addict? There was no doubt that Tate had done research on her father before he gave him anything. Maybe Tate hoped people would fail? It certainly would back up his shady reputation.
She’d heard enough whispers and rumors about what type of man Tate Wessen was. He always had a different woman on his arm, and he dealt in illegal activities, keeping the cops quiet with monetary “donations.” The list went on and on, and looking at him right now, as he sipped his drink and watched her with a stoic expression, she didn’t doubt any of those rumors’ validity.
“I don’t give second chances.”
Shoulders sagging in defeat, Stella knew she would have to accept the hard truth. She would lose her childhood home. She just prayed Tate didn’t take it any further and hurt her father. “Yeah, I know, and I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath.
“We might be able to come to some sort of arrangement, though.”
At his statement she glanced up, hope springing forth inside of her. “An arrangement?” She would do whatever he said as long as he gave her more time to save her father’s home.
“I want you, Stella.” He finished the rest of his drink and watched her. “I’d be inclined to erase your father’s debt and give him back the deed to his home if you agree to be mine for two weeks.”
What the fuck? She blinked a few times, trying to wrap her mind around what he had just said. Had she heard him correctly? “I’m sorry.” She shook her head, trying to clear it. “Be yours for two weeks?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “That’s right. Mine, for two weeks, in every sense of the word.” He didn’t need to elaborate on what he meant. It came across loud and clear.
A dozen different emotions passed through her. Here was this man, this very dangerous man, giving her a way out. It was a backhanded way out, but a way out all the same. Could she actually do it? Give herself to him for two weeks to save her father?
“Just so we are clear, I want your submission. You will keep me company in bed and at any functions I must attend. You will give me whatever I want, and you will do so because you want to. You didn’t wear that low-cut dress for nothing, did you?” He gave her a questioning look, and she was at a loss for words.
Submission? Could she really allow a man like Tate to control her in the way he was implying? Hell, be honest, Stella. The man isn’t implying anything; he is demanding it. Could she really let Tate Wessen have that kind of control over her?
5
The play of emotions on Stella’s face was amusing. Tate was still surprised at himself that he would offer such a thing to her. He’d never given anyone a way out of a debt they owed him; but if he was being honest with himself, he had never met a woman like Stella Vincent. The people he tended to associate with knew the kind of world he lived in. They were a part of it. But the woman sitting in his office right now didn’t know who he was, not really. There was no doubt in his mind that she’d heard the rumors about him. No, not rumors, but the truth. He was just as big a bastard as everyone said he was, even more so after offering her a way out of her father’s debt.
He was no stranger to people trying to beg him for more time, but he could read their true intentions, could see right through them. They wanted to escape. When he looked at Stella, he could feel her honesty, her need to help her father. When she asked for more time, he knew she honestly wanted it so she could earn the money her father owed him. It wasn’t her fault her father had become a worthless addict. Despite all the shit he gave her, she stayed by his side. That showed what type of person she was and her character. He liked that, admired it.
He wanted her. Desperately. Had he ever wanted a female as much as the one before him? Fuck no. When she’d walked in his office wearing that tight little dress with the neckline cut so low he could see the swell of her breasts every time she bent over, the idea had popped into his mind. He was hard, uncomfortably so. He could admit he was an asshole for asking her to essentially be his pussy on demand for the next two weeks just so her father would be debt-free. What surprised him the most was the fact she hadn’t outright refused.
When he first saw her, he’d known he wanted her, but after she’d left, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her and what her hot little pussy would feel like wrapped around his cock. Adjusting himself, he could feel his dick start to swell as his thoughts turned lascivious.
“I don’t understand.”
“Yes you do, Stella. You know exactly what I mean.” He took a long pull from his glass and watched her squirm in her seat. A light sheen of perspiration covered her creamy skin, and he pictured her laid upon his bed, that same sheen making her lush little body slick. She would be sweaty because he would have fucked her good and hard. His name would have spilled from her mouth over and over again as her thighs gripped his waist tightly, bringing him closer and closer, making him thrust harder and harder.
His throat had gone incredibly dry, and his pulse started to beat hard and fast. Tate knew the woman might be his drug. He could easily see being addicted to her, and that thought alone had him reining in his steel-hard composure. That was why he needed these two weeks with her, needed to get her out of his system. He knew without a doubt one night wouldn’t be enough.
“I—”
“Listen. I’ll make my intentions very clear so there are no misunderstandings.” Tate needed her to know exactly what he wanted from her. There would be no preconceived notions of romance. He wanted her body for the next two weeks. “If you agree, your father’s debt will be absolved, and I will return the deed to your house when those fourteen days conclude.” He let his words sink in, saw he had her full attention, and continued. “For those two weeks, your body will be mine.
“Any time and any way I see fit. If I want you naked in my bed before I arrive home from work every night, that is where you will be. If I need you to dress for a social occasion and look pretty on my arm, you will do so with a smile. I am paying you what your father owes me to submit to me in every way possible. If you don’t think you can complete this, then I expect the rest of my money, twenty-two thousand dollars of it, in the next four days. I will not negotiate these terms. You either a
ccept my proposal or not.”
Several pressing moments passed with neither of them saying anything. He didn’t sugarcoat it, didn’t make her think it was anything more than what it was. The realization of that was clear on her face. Their gazes didn’t break, and he could see the decision on her face before she spoke it.
“Okay.” That lone word had his cock agonizingly hard and something much darker rising up within him. It was a sweet sentiment that she did this for her father, but none of that mattered because for the next two weeks he wouldn’t be gentle or kind. He would be filthy and rough, and she would love every minute of it.
* * *
His voice was low and commanding, and she knew he meant every word. Stella had done it, agreed to be Tate Wessen’s whore for the next two weeks. The thought made her feel somewhat dirty and cheap, but she reminded herself she was doing this for her fucked-up father. Maybe after all of this was done, she could try to get her father clean and sober again. It was an optimistic thought, and after countless tries and fails, a sliver of doubt made its appearance. She’d also make it clear he wasn’t allowed in any of the clubs or casinos.
No way she wanted to be in this situation all over again.
There was no denying that a part of her desired to let Tate do what he wanted with her. She had no doubts that he would deliver on all those promises, and a thrill of excitement, anticipation, and fear swarmed inside of her. The way he watched her spoke more in just that one look than anything he had said aloud.
He didn’t respond, just tilted his head. The corner of his mouth curved into a grin that couldn’t be called anything but carnal. It was no secret that Tate Wessen was a dangerous man, but the way he looked at her, no, scrutinized her, led her to believe that he was far more dangerous than anyone really knew.
6
Stella tightened her hold on her suitcase. The death grip she had on the handle dug into the flesh of her palm, causing the already sweaty skin to start to chafe. For the hundredth time she asked herself if she was actually going through with this. Two weeks doing God knew what with a man like Tate. Just looking at him, she knew his desires ran on the darker side. She could only imagine how he was in bed. Probably all raw and demanding need under that tough, stone-cool exterior. He was controlling, that was for damn sure.
Would he try and control her? The few guys she’d slept with, which were so long ago she cringed inside, had been pretty tame. A man like Tate seemed like he had an animal lurking inside, just waiting to attack and devour. Just thinking about him like that had a tingle spreading throughout her nether regions.
Of course, she hadn’t told her father where she was going or what she was doing. Telling him the lie about going away for two weeks for a temp job came easy enough, and her father had believed every word. A sliver of guilt passed through her that she’d lied to her dad. He might have a substance abuse problem, and his life might be all sorts of screwed up, but he was still her father and she loved him. His love for her was clear, too, even if he didn’t show it the way she would have liked. Deep down inside of him there was a good man. She knew it, remembered it.
When she’d questioned Tate about her concerns regarding her father, about not being there for him if he needed her help, she was stunned when he told her he would make sure her father was looked after for the duration of her stay with him. The three grand that she’d been willing to give him was back in her accounts, another “gift” from Tate. She would need that money to pay her bills since she would be out of work for two weeks. The thought that maybe she’d misjudged Tate crossed her mind, but then she pushed it away because after all, she was being made to be his sex slave in order to save her father and their home.
A glance at the clock showed five minutes until seven. It had been one week to the day since Tate had propositioned her very unconventionally. He had given her seven days to get her “affairs” in order, meaning to deal with her two lousy jobs. It had been easy enough to get the time off from one of them, but the other waitressing job had told her no. So, when these two weeks were up, she would be looking for another second job.
Her bag was packed with all her nicer clothes, but if she was being honest, she didn’t know if she would be wearing much of anything while in Tate’s company. They had exchanged numbers, and he told her a car would be around to pick her up at seven p.m. sharp. She needed to be ready and waiting because he wasn’t a man of patience, and he was eager to get their time started. He hadn’t even had the balls to call her and demand that shit himself. Even in text form Tate’s words were stiff, gruff, and to the point. Just like the man himself.
With only a few minutes to spare, she grabbed her purse and gripped her suitcase tighter before stepping out into the hall. As she made her way down the hallway to the stairs, she could hear the sound of a baby crying in the background and a television blaring behind the worn wooden doors.
The apartment building she lived in was run-down. Twenty years ago it had been a beautiful building, but with age and new casinos, bars and clubs popping up all around it, it looked like it was ready to retire. Peeling wallpaper, a staircase with a rickety railing, and an elevator that had been out of commission since she moved in over a year ago made up the scenery of Stella’s life.
There had once been plush carpet on the stairs, the red remnants of it bright around the edges and nonexistent in the center. When she reached the bottom and exited out the foggy glass doors, a shiny black Mercedes pulled up to the curb. She didn’t need to see the man exiting from the driver’s side to know he was there for her. He wore livery, which seemed strange to her for some reason. His attire seemed too crisp, too official for her taste, but then again she didn’t really expect any less from Tate Wessen.
“Miss Vincent. My name is Jacob, and Mr. Wessen has sent me to escort you to his home.” He walked over to the back passenger door and opened it for her. When she was right beside him, he said, “Please, allow me to take this.” He took her suitcase out of her hand, and she slid into the leather interior.
The door shut behind her, and the smell of Tate filled the dark, almost intimate confines. The windows were tinted so dark there wasn’t a question in her mind that any passersby would not be able to see what happened inside. A moment later the driver slid into the front seat and started the car. The only sound that permeated the air was the smooth growl of the car’s engine and the occasional ticking of the turn signal. It only took about twenty minutes before the vehicle slowed and then came to a stop.
A massive home was just visible behind a large wrought-iron gate and monstrous trees. Jacob entered a code in the keypad set inside a stone column, and the large twin gates opened to allow their entry. Large towering pines lined each side of the paved driveway as Jacob wove left and right.
When the trees parted and the stone mansion was revealed, Stella felt her heart skip a beat. Her nerves had been bad before, but now they were zinging back and forth like molecules on crack. She was amazed at the wide stone steps that led to massive double doors, and the arched stained-glass windows that she bet cast rainbows inside once the light hit them. Her door swung open, and Jacob stood on the other side, his hand outstretched for her to take.
Jacob led her inside, and her breath caught at the beauty of the interior of the home. The exterior had been beautiful, but this, this was magnificent. Everything was dark wood and granite. The grandfather clock ticking in the distance was the only sound that penetrated the vast space. She inhaled deeply and was instantly surrounded by Tate’s scent. As if she desperately needed him, craved whatever he had to give her, the traitorous tingling between her legs intensified. It had never fully dimmed in the car, and now, being surrounded by all of Tate’s things was like gas to a fire.
“If you’ll follow me, Miss Vincent, I’ll show you to your quarters.” Jacob carried her suitcase in one hand and started walking toward the staircase. She followed him and couldn’t help but look at the thick carpet that adorned the dark wood beneath her feet. Was this
how the carpet in her apartment building used to look? She doubted it, seeing as everything in Tate’s home screamed expensive and posh.
There was a set of double doors directly adjacent to the stairs once they reached the top, and that was where Jacob led them. He pushed one of the doors open, and she followed behind. When he turned the lights on and she got a good look at the room, she knew instantly it was Tate’s. The smell alone would have alerted her to that fact. His scent filled the room. It was a dark, masculine aroma that was slightly citrusy yet held a sharp hint of evergreen. She could feel a moan rise up in her throat and pushed it back down. She was being ridiculous. Who in the hell moaned over a scent?
She brought her mind back to the matter at hand. Of course, she wouldn’t be so lucky to have her own room. Tate wanted her pussy ready and willing at any time. He hadn’t sugarcoated it, and she had no preconceived notions otherwise. She knew why she was here and would complete this like any other job. That thought had a weight settling on her shoulders. She felt like a whore. Hell, she was a damn whore. She was basically selling her body for twenty-five thousand dollars.
Jacob turned to leave once he had set her suitcase on the bed.
“Wait.”
He stopped and turned to look at her.
“Uh.” Stella looked around the room. A stone fireplace was across from the bed, a bed adorned with black silk sheets, of all things. There was one step that led to a lower section in the room. That was where the couch and TV were. A bookshelf was on the right wall, and the door to the bathroom on the left.
“Miss?”
She looked back at Jacob, felt her cheeks heat because she’d zoned out there for a moment, and cleared her throat. “I don’t know what to do next.” Just admitting that, even to a stranger, made her feel like a complete dumbass. Did he know why she was here? Most likely. Especially when he looked at her with an expression akin to sympathy.
