by Nikki Chase
Get a grip. Keep your cool and you’ll go home with almost enough money to pay off Chad Murray, I tell myself.
“I don't know about that, Sir.” I wish I could lie and tell him what he wants to hear, but something tells me that would be a risky move.
“Interesting answer,” he says.
Caine takes another step closer, bursting my bubble of personal space. He doesn’t say anything, which only makes it feel more intrusive. It's like he feels entitled to my person, like he believes he has the right to get closer without even asking.
Before I can even think about it, I lean back and, thanks to my high heels, lose my balance. A steady hand lands on the small of my back, keeping me on my feet. Electricity spreads from the warm spot where Caine's hand touches my bare back and crackles throughout my body, making me tingle all over.
Suddenly, I find myself in his arms, my chest pressed up against his body, the fine fabric of his suit soft on my skin. When I look up, Caine has a cocky smirk on his face. He's balancing the tray with his free hand.
“Careful, Daisy. Considering how much more friendly the other girls are, you don't want to drop your tray. That could get you fired.”
I look up at him, heat spreading across my cheeks. He's so close, and the way he says my name feels overly familiar. He's just as rude and condescending as he was last week at the hospital.
I should be angry. I should shout at him and tell him to leave me alone. I was doing my job just fine before he came and got me all flustered.
But all I can think about is how good it feels being held by him. His body is firm, hard. I get the urge to run my hands down his chest to trace the contours of his body, the ridges and valleys of his chest and abs. He smells like expensive whiskey and musky perfume.
His very closeness is intoxicating. The way I get overwhelmed by my own body's reactions to him, it's like I’m drunk on his presence.
I shiver as Caine lightly drags his long, graceful fingers down my spine. It becomes hard just to breathe, let alone think. He leans in, his stubble grazing my cheek as he does. I can feel the warmth emanating from his body, and it makes me want to just melt into his touch.
“Want to take this somewhere more private?” Caine whispers in my ear, his breath hot on my neck, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to the juncture of my thighs.
His words jolt me awake. As tempting as it is, I don't want to lose my virginity to a stranger at a party where I’m working...or do I?
Hard as it is, I tear myself away from Caine. I put one hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeats on my palm. His deep blue eyes invite me to dive in deeper, but I push away from him.
“I should go.” My voice comes out shaky, but I don't care anymore if he realizes how affected I am. He was so close he could probably tell by my goosebumps and shivers.
“Not so fast.” He grabs my wrist, making me gasp. How can such a light touch knock the wind out of me?
I eye him suspiciously.
“As far as I know, Dr. Pratt doesn't look too kindly upon moonlighting.” He stares intensely into my eyes. He looks like he has a devious plot in his mind, the way he's baring his teeth like the Cheshire cat.
“What's your point?” I snap. I don't care anymore about politeness, even though earlier tonight the manager emphasized again and again that we need to be the perfect maids, obedient and eager to please.
All I know is I need to get away before this man devours me. If I stay too long, I might offer myself to him voluntarily, and I’m not sure that would be wise.
“There she is,” he says, again with that lopsided smirk. He chuckles. “Is a nurse’s salary not enough for you, my wild flower?”
“That's none of your business.”
“Careful. Dr. Pratt is a good friend of mine. I’m sure he'd appreciate me telling him about a young member of his staff who's breaking the rules,” he threatens in a low voice as smooth as the whiskey on his breath.
I glare at him and pull my hand away. He lets go of my wrist and smiles, knowing he's already gotten me into his trap without having to physically restrain me.
“What do you want from me?” I honestly don't understand why he has zeroed in on me. With the many other waitresses milling around the mansion, I really don’t stand out.
I wonder if maybe he's attracted to my youth, but the mansion is literally littered with young, attractive girls, many of whom would be excited to get an opportunity to spend the night with this hot shot.
A wealthy man typically has his pick of girls, especially when the man in question looks like Caine Foster. With his full head of golden hair and deep blue eyes, he's the epitome of an all-American hunk. And with his reputation as a good lover, he must be a babe magnet.
So, why me?
“It's not just about what I want from you, Daisy. I'm sure I have something you want as well. We can reach a...mutually beneficial agreement,” he says with one eyebrow cocked.
I stay quiet and look at him, waiting for him to continue. It's not like I have a choice but to listen. The man has threatened to get me fired from both my jobs, neither one of which I can afford to lose.
“Be my pet for one month,” he says casually, as if this is just another business deal.
My eyes widen in shock. Of course I feel our interaction taking on a sexual turn, but to be his “pet”? What the hell does that even mean?
“Come live with me for one month, and I’ll make it worth your while,” he explains, probably sensing my bewilderment.
“Sorry, I'm not for sale.” I glower at him, anger simmering within me. I want to drop all the stupid little pieces of shrimp appetizers on the beige carpet and hit Caine in the head with my canapé tray, but that might get me fired for real.
I'm fine with being poor and unemployed on my own, but I have Jack to think of. For his sake, I need to keep a cool head.
Before I say or do something I’ll regret, I turn around on my heels and start to walk away.
“There’s $100,000 in it for you.”
I stop in my tracks. Did he just say what I think he said? $100,000? That can't be right. I want to look back, but I don't want to ruin the cool exit I’m supposed to be making.
“You heard right. $100,000.” Caine’s footfalls are muted by the thick carpet, but I can feel him getting closer and closer.
He puts one hand on the back of my neck and slides it down to my shoulder. A thrill runs down my spine at his touch. I can't deny it. This man makes the hairs on my skin stand on end. My body becomes hypersensitive when our bodies make contact. I gasp audibly when his lips land on my back.
God, I want more of him. But, I shouldn't...right?
“You don't have to answer right now,” he whispers.
His hand snakes around my body and slides down my stomach, so tantalizingly close to the place where I’m aching for him, literally throbbing for him. He pulls me close until my bare back rests on his broad, hard chest. He slips something into the waist of my black lacy panties, just below my belly button.
“Think about it, my little flower.” Caine plants another kiss, on the back of my neck this time. To my surprise and embarrassment, a small, breathy moan escapes my lips. I freeze, but it's too late. He's obviously heard it. He says, “I guarantee you’ll have a good time, too.”
As if to stress his point, he grabs my ponytail and pulls my head to the side, exposing my neck to him. He trails light, teasing kisses from my shoulder up to the side of my neck. I sigh, momentarily forgetting my outrage as my nerve endings deliver a big dose of pure pleasure to my entire system.
“Call me,” Caine whispers in my ear. When he pulls away, immediately I feel like something's missing. I want his hands and lips back on my body.
Without saying another word, Caine leaves. I just stand there, dumbfounded and unsure what to do. I stare at his broad back as he walks further and further away down the long hallway.
This whole situation is so foreign to me. No other man has ever had that kind of effect o
n me before.
I look down at my abdomen. Caine has slipped a business card under the elastic waist of my skimpy panties. He's already treating me like a stripper, I realize. Although, to be fair, I am already halfway stripped. All that's missing is a pole.
My heart is thumping in my chest. I still can't quite believe what just happened.
Of course I’m offended that a man has just put a price tag on sex with me. He thinks he can buy me, and that's not right.
Still, as far as price tags go, $100,000 is really good. It could make all my problems disappear.
Caine
“Honey, you home?” I yelled out as the elevator door slid open to reveal our penthouse apartment.
As a realtor, Trish had flexible work hours. I never knew when she'd be working and when she'd be home.
I pulled my suitcase inside, the little wheels rolling on the vintage hardwood flooring, making a hollow sound. The elevator door closed on its own behind me.
I heard some noises from upstairs. A woman's voice. Maybe Trish was home after all. Maybe she was watching something on the TV in our bedroom.
I unzipped the suitcase to quickly grab the Hermés bag, the souvenir Trish had requested from my business trip to Paris. I left the open suitcase by the fireplace in the living room. I could take care of that later. For now, I just wanted to see Trish.
I’d always had to travel a lot for work. With Pop getting older and Cole wanting to do his own stuff, the responsibility of meeting out-of-state and international business associates fell on my shoulders.
I didn't really mind the constant motion, the many hours I was spending at airports all over the world, or even the bad airplane food.
(Even on a private plane, the food tasted bland no matter what. I’d been told it was due to the atmosphere inside the pressurized cabin. Whatever the cause, it was bullshit.)
None of those things bothered me as much as being away from Trish. She was the only person who really knew me, the only person I could really talk to. When she wasn’t around, I felt alone. Which, thinking back now, was completely stupid.
I walked up the stairs with a big, dumb smile on my face. I thought about how Trish would react to seeing the handbag she’d wanted for months.
I was in a good mood, having closed the deal much more easily than I’d expected and having flown home early. Now I had a few days free so I could spend some time with Trish and maybe relax at home for once. I was paying good money for the apartment, and I was never around to enjoy it.
As soon as I stepped onto the stairs landing on the second floor of our apartment, I realized something wasn’t right.
The door to our bedroom had been left ajar. A sliver of sunlight escaped from the bedroom. I couldn’t see inside, but I could clearly make out the woman’s voice now.
It was clearly Trish’s voice, and she was clearly moaning—a sound I had always found sexy, right up until this point in time.
I tried to tell myself that she might’ve been playing one of our sexy videos, or she was having a little solo fun with the vibrator I’d gotten her for Valentine’s Day, but even then, I knew that was wishful thinking. I could almost hear two sets of heavy breathing.
My heart was pounding against my rib cage when I reached the bedroom door. My whole body felt cold. I wasn’t ready to see what I knew I was going to see behind the door, but I couldn’t walk away either.
I pushed the door open.
The hinges creaked softly, and Trish snapped her head around so fast I thought she was going to sprain her neck. Her eyes widened. She was as naked as the day she was born, straddling some guy on the bed. On our bed. My fucking bed.
Heat spread from the center of my chest throughout my body. Anger coursed through my veins. Blood rushed in my ears, and I couldn’t hear a word Trish was saying.
Maybe she wasn’t saying anything. Maybe her mouth was just hanging open from the shock, as wide open as her legs.
I don’t know. All I could hear was a million furious thoughts that were running through my mind.
The guy she was riding grabbed Trish’s shoulders and pushed her off him, his face contorted by fear. My tall stature and lean body, moderately muscular from regular swimming, often intimidate people. But I was also shooting daggers with my eyes, and my hands had balled into fists without me even realizing it.
“Don’t stop on account of me,” I said as calmly as I could. “I was just leaving.” I looked Trish in the eye. “Sasha will call you to help you move out. Get your things out by the end of the week.”
Just before I turned around, I saw Trish jump out of bed and fumble around to find her clothes. I was already making my way downstairs.
I zipped up my suitcase, still full of all the essentials I needed to live out of a hotel room for at least a few days. As I pulled it toward the elevator, I realized I was still holding the fucking Hermes handbag. I threw it into the fireplace. The flame was low, but it was probably going to do sufficient damage.
Trish wouldn’t be seen dead with a half-burned handbag. Hell, she wouldn’t even take last year’s accessories out to dinner.
As I waited for the elevator to arrive, I imagined Trish walking around with the handbag, the expensive leather all curled, peeled, and blackened. The mental picture made the corners of my lips curl up, even as my heart was breaking into a thousand little shards inside me, the sharp edges cutting into my flesh.
I heard Trish’s bare feet rush down the stairs as I entered the elevator.
“Caine, wait!” She shouted.
That was the last thing I ever heard from her.
The ringing of my phone pulls me away from my memory. I pressed the phone button on the steering wheel.
“Caine.” Cole’s voice filters through the speakers, as crisp and clear as if he were sitting beside me in my Mercedes-Maybach S600.
“Yeah,” I reply. I know exactly why he’s calling me. We’re not the kind of siblings who stay in touch every day, but we rally together when the family’s in trouble.
“How’s Pop doing?” Ever since he moved to Seattle, Cole has been relying on me to keep up with the family news. Cole and Pop are technically speaking to each other now, but they keep the aforementioned speaking to a minimum.
One big conflict between them happened when Pop didn’t approve of his relationship with Emily. Pop has softened a little since then—he even flew all the way to Bali for their wedding—but Cole and Pop still don’t get along very well.
As the guy who’s often caught in the middle of their arguments, I’m happy to keep Cole updated if it means peace for the whole family.
“I’m on my way to the hospital to find out,” I say.
“He’s still at the hospital? I thought it was just another angina episode.”
“Yes, but it was a particularly bad one.”
“Fuck. Is he gonna be okay?”
“Yes. Probably. He’s old, Cole. Old people get sick.”
“Yeah, it’s hard to think of him as some feeble old man.”
“If he weren’t old, he would’ve caught wind of your devious plan before you could carry it out,” I remind him.
Cole was managing a chain of boutique hotels here in San Francisco when the conflict between Pop and Cole blew up. Pop forced Cole to quit and sign away all his rights to Foster Hotels.
I tried to stop Pop from doing this, as Cole had worked hard to build the company. It was his baby. But Pop insisted.
A few days after Cole left San Francisco, Pop realized Cole had taken quite a big chunk of money out of the company’s accounts. He was furious, but there was nothing he could do.
What Cole did was sneaky and dishonest, but it was legal. Besides, Pop wasn’t innocent either in the whole thing. Cole just happened to be the one to win that round.
“You have a point.” Cole chuckles, his voice full of pride. If he at least tries to hide his smugness at having pulled a fast one on Pop, maybe they could get along, but I don’t see that happening. They’re both to
o stubborn and confrontational to not butt heads.
“The doctors say he should recover, no problem. I just made them do all the tests on him. That’s why he’s still at the hospital.”
“What tests?”
“All of them.” I laugh. I can walk into a hostile boardroom meeting and come out having made a win-win deal that makes everybody happy, but I don’t know anything about medicine. I literally just told the doctors to conduct every test they could think of so we could manage any other old-people illnesses Pop has.
“Okay,” Cole says. I can tell by his tone that he still doesn’t fully understand what I’m doing. That’s fine, though. He usually trusts me to do what needs to be done.
“I’m just entering the hospital parking lot now. I’ll call you if there’s anything you should know.”
“Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Caine,” he says.
“No problem.” I press another button on the steering wheel to hang up.
As silence fills the car once again, I wonder why I was even thinking about that day I learned my live-in girlfriend was a lying, cheating bitch. That whole mess happened three years ago.
I was heartbroken for a while, but I quickly buried myself in work until I didn’t have any time left to grieve. It still took me about a year until I stopped thinking about her whenever I was lying alone in my bed.
I never slept again in the bed where Trish had fucked someone else. I never even stepped foot inside that apartment again. I hired a realtor—Trish’s biggest rival—and sold it at a loss. The property market wasn’t doing well at the time, but I had to get rid of that fucking apartment.
After parking the car, I close and lock the door, then head toward the hospital entrance. Besides checking on Pop, there’s another thing I’m interested in at this hospital.
That nurse.
That saucy minx of a nurse.
The one who acts like she’s too good to do things for money. The one who pushes me away, but lets out delicious little gasps whenever I get too close. The one who says with her mouth that she doesn’t want to follow my orders, but has so far done every single one of them.
