by Nikki Chase
If I don't come up with the $40,000 I owe Chad Murray soon, he’s going to hurt me—or worse, Jack. And I can't let that happen, not even if I have to whore myself out.
Chapter 3
Caine
I take a swig of the whiskey and feel the liquid blaze down my throat. This thing fucking burns. It's just what I need tonight.
With Pop in the hospital, I have to do all his work, including the kind that blurs the line between business and pleasure.
When Sasha told me I had to attend a party, at the mansion of a supplier for one of our companies, I knew I was in for a boring evening. Not that I spend my time doing anything more exciting—the opposite, in fact. I prefer to stay back at the office and get some actual work done. But I know Pop would tell me social functions are important work as well, so here I am.
It's been one week since Pop had that mean angina attack. He’s going home soon. I’ve hired someone to look after him—remind him to take his medication at the right times, advise him on his diet, maybe even get him to exercise a little, that kind of thing.
He's getting better, which is good, but I wish he’d get better more quickly so I could go back to visiting our out-of-state and international partners in person, rather than being stuck with video calls that lag and freeze every few seconds.
Without close supervision, they gain the power to screw us over behind our backs. Sure, they may continue to behave out of the goodness of their hearts, but why risk it?
I nod and wave back at a man who's now approaching the bar. Todd Graham, the son of my Uncle Nathan. Todd’s not a cousin, though; he’s just an acquaintance because we're not actually related. Uncle Nathan used to work for my grandfather and has continued to stay with the family after my grandfather’s death.
“How about the girls, huh?” Todd grins as he takes a seat beside me at the bar. “Barkeep! One glass of whatever you have on tap!” Todd snaps his fingers.
The bartender scowls, but Todd doesn’t notice. He’s already busy ogling the waitresses passing by in their little lingerie. They all wear ridiculously high heels that push their tits and ass out.
One of the girls smiles when she notices Todd staring. She saunters over and holds out her tray, while also pushing her tits forward. Giving Todd a flirty smile, she asks, “See anything you want, Sir?”
“Yes, but it's not anything on the tray.” Todd smiles back at the waitress and raises his eyebrows once.
The waitress giggles and slaps Todd lightly on the arm. “Oh, you,” she says.
Jesus, this is painful to watch.
I down the remaining whiskey and slam the crystal glass down on the bar, making both Todd and the girl jump from the sudden noise.
“I have to go.” Without waiting for a reply, I walk away.
Fucking Todd. I had a perfectly nice spot where I was relatively safe from the crowd, and he had to invade it. That's just like him. There's more than one bar in this big mansion, but of course he had to seek me out and take over my bar.
I can't sit there and watch him awkwardly flirt with a girl. Todd has no game, but he doesn't know it. Girls are only with him because of his family's money.
I can tell because I know the signs of a gold digger. I’ve been dealing with them since I was old enough to notice girls. They’re always throwing themselves at me but I'm not interested in being their chump, so I steer clear of them.
If they want my money, then they have to be my employees. I’m their boss and they have to do as I say or get fired. I have to protect myself, so I want things spelled out in legal documents, signed by all parties involved.
This has narrowed down my options to women who expect some form of payment for their services, women who want something other than just the pleasure of my companionship.
But I don't mind. I actually prefer it this way, so everyone knows exactly what to expect from each other. It's better than the alternative.
I wouldn't want to be Todd when the waitress is done with him. I don't particularly like Todd, but I can tell he thinks that girl actually likes him. It’s never a pleasant thing to discover the truth, to find out you're just being used as a tool for buying designer stuff and climbing up the social ranks.
I wander the hallways aimlessly, letting the alcohol seep into my system, keeping a brisk pace to avoid being stopped for pointless conversations. My shoes sink into the plush carpet underfoot. The paintings hanging on the walls blur past.
That's when I see her.
She has her back to me, but she feels familiar. That honey-brown ponytail that's just asking to be wrapped around my hand and pulled. That full ass that begs to be spanked until it's red hot. I knew she'd look good out of her scrubs.
She's holding her tray of canapés for two young jocks who are taking way more time than necessary to pick out their appetizers. I can't tell what they're saying, but I can see them openly ogling her, like Todd did to the waitress from before. They're staring at her tits, slowly moving closer until she's backed away, flush against the wall. She's trapped now and probably won't escape without suffering a grope or two.
Many of the men are doing the exact same thing to other waitresses. That's the whole point of having scantily clad young girls strut their stuff at a party like this.
But for some reason, seeing her being treated like one of those girls—which she is—makes my blood boil.
I clear my throat to get their attention. “Waitress,” I call out. “Come here.”
The jocks turn around to glare at me. One of them looks like he's about to fight me, but his friend pulls him back and says something in a low voice. He probably knows who I am. Getting on my bad side is not a good idea for anyone who does business in this city.
The two guys walk away, leaving me alone with the nurse from St. Peter’s Hospital I met last week.
She's looking at me now, apprehension flashing in her green eyes, which look unnaturally intense tonight from the heavy make-up. She recognizes me, and she realizes she has just escaped the frying pan only to fall into the fire.
“I said come here. You work here, don't you? The customer is king. Haven't you heard that?” I could step closer to close the gap between us, but that wouldn't be any fun. She knows she has to do as I say, and I want to watch the fight die within her, see the moment when she gives up and follows my order.
She hesitates. She's lost her balance from having tried to back away from the two jocks, and it doesn't look as if she's used to the high heels either, or the lack of actual clothes.
Like the other girls, she's wearing a black bra, a pair of lacy panties, and black garters that hold up her sheer black stockings. Unlike the other girls, she looks uncomfortable in them.
She's out of her element, just like she was at the hospital when she had to obey me instead of the hospital rules. This means I’ve got her right where I want her.
“Did you hear me, or do I have to tell the host you can't do your job?” I give her a sharp stare, and she glowers at me in response, even though her full lips, which are painted red tonight, remain tightly zipped.
She regains her composure. She starts to walk closer, teetering on her shoes, which exaggerate the sway of her full hips.
She has cute, perky tits, but it’s the way her slender waist flares out into those hips and ass that gets me. I could just imagine my fingers digging into her waist as I bend her over and pull her back against me, impaling her on me again and again. My cock stirs in my pants.
I don't know what it is about her, but every little move she makes amuses me. Maybe it's just refreshing to see a girl not kissing my ass. She puts up a bit of a fight, which makes it more satisfying when her resolve crumbles, when she inevitably has to do my bidding.
She stops a couple of feet away from me and shoves the tray full of the usual party finger foods between us without a word.
“Aren't you going to ask if I want some canapés?” I trap her gaze and watch as the fire burns within.
“You already asked me t
o come here. You obviously want them,” she says in a clipped tone. She's trying to stay polite, despite her anger.
“Maybe all I want is for you to come closer.”
“I’m already close enough. Now, if there's nothing else, I have other guests to serve.”
“I don't see anyone else around here.” I look around to emphasize my point. This is a large mansion, and most of the guests are lounging by the swimming pool. This hallway is deserted. “And aren't you supposed to address me more politely?”
“If there's nothing else, I’d like to go where the other guests are, Sir,” she repeats herself, adding the honorific at the end begrudgingly.
Interesting.
When faced with the choice between obeying me and losing her job, she chooses the option that makes her money, even if she has to sacrifice a little dignity doing so. This girl has a price, just like everybody else.
What makes her interesting is how much she seems to resent that, and how openly she displays that resentment. She's transparent.
I’d love to see her genuine reactions to my hands all over her, my fingers inside her. Fuck, I’d love to spread her legs and plunge balls deep inside her. I’d watch her face as I do, her lips parting in lust to let a breathy moan escape, her eyes begging for more even if she doesn't want to say it.
“Oh, but there is something else. I'm sure you'll want to hear this,” I say.
She continues to look back into my eyes with defiance, not knowing I’m going to crush that disobedience out of her.
I'm not done with her. Far from it. She's wrong if she thinks she's going to walk away just like that.
Chapter 4
Daisy
“Daisy, right?” He takes one step closer, fixing his piercing gaze on me like he’s a lion stalking his prey. Confident, unhurried, dangerous.
I want to step back away from him, but there's something about him that freezes me in place. He's looking at me like he's about to pounce on me if I so much as make a move in the wrong direction.
“Yes, Sir,” I say with as much fight as I can muster. My heart hammers in my rib cage. My eyes follow his movements as he inspects me like he's about to eat me alive. My insides grow warmer from his intense attention. I feel funny, like there's something stirring in my core, reacting to his presence.
I’ve never felt like this before; it's terrifying.
It doesn't help that I'm practically naked. It makes me feel vulnerable, especially when he looks so put together in his navy-blue designer suit that shows off his tall, lean physique perfectly.
I thought I was already feeling self-conscious before, walking around in skimpy lingerie while all around me, high-society ladies swish by in their dazzling gowns, their hair perfectly styled and their bodies adorned with bright, shiny gemstones. But Caine is much more intimidating than all the guests at this party combined.
There's an easy, casual grace to his every move. His gestures are so fluid they're hypnotizing. He's refined, almost feline-like. He's in his element here in this ritzy mansion, while I’m completely out of my depth.
Now I know why people keep deadly exotic animals as pets. There's something magnetic about them, something about that deadliness itself that makes you want to see if you can get close and survive, like some kind of a suicidal teenager’s idea of a bravery challenge.
“Do you know who I am?” He smirks like he already knows the answer.
A part of me wants to say no just to spite him, maybe make him see he’s not as important as he thinks he is. At the same time, I feel like he’d see right through me. I can't hurt his vanity when he’s fully aware of what a big deal he is.
“Yes, Sir,” I say without breaking eye contact.
“Who am I, then?”
“You're Caine Foster, Sir.”
“I see you’ve learned how to properly address me. Don't you think this is better, when I don't have to use a loud voice or harsh words to get you to do the things you're supposed to do anyway?”
I glare at him for a split second, forgetting that I’m potentially risking $5,000 by getting drawn into an argument with him.
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,” h
e 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.
