Ruined: A New Adult and Billionaire Romance (His For A Week Book 5)

by EM BROWN

  “She’s preparing for some acting job,” Tracy tells me when I ask about Sierra.

  A few minutes later my cellphone rings. It’s the Pullman Agency. With trembling hands, I take the call.

  “Hey, Virginia,” says Dan, “you got your first audition.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “I can’t take a week off from work on such short notice,” I protest into the cellphone, hoping no one walks in on me in the break room. “I might lose my job. And it’s the week before my econ midterm—”

  “This client’s willing to go twenty-five grand,” Dan replies. “Clients like this don’t come around every day.”

  “You said you had a model who got thirty thousand just last week.”

  “I don’t usually get such high numbers back to back. Look, you interested in the pay or not? If not, I’ve got other talent I can send.”

  I put a hand to my brow. “I don’t know. I thought this kind of thing was just a one-night deal.”

  “How many people you know make this much money in just one night?”

  Silly me. I guess I don’t know this business well.

  “Is this twenty-five thousand for sure?” I ask.

  “I won’t let you work a job unless the pay is solid.”

  I can barely swallow. “I want a guarantee of some kind. Paid upfront.”

  “You don’t get paid until I get paid.”

  “What happens if the client doesn’t pay as promised?”

  “That’s what you’ve got me for. I go with all the talent to the auditions to make sure everything goes according to plan. If a talent is selected, the client has to pay fifty percent right then or he doesn’t get the talent. Simple.”

  “How am I paid? Cash? Check?”

  I realize I haven’t thought through all the details. Checks could bounce. Cash could be counterfeit. And inconvenient. Only drug dealers would carry around that much cash, right?

  “Once I have the down payment, I can deposit your cut into your bank account. Sheesh.”

  “Okay, let me think about it.”

  “You gotta let me know now. The audition’s tomorrow. I’m driving all the talent up in the morning. You in or out?”

  My pulse races. I hesitate, trying to think fast. Only my brain draws a blank.

  “Okay,” I blurt.

  “Be at my office by eleven o’clock. And make sure you look your part.”

  “What’s my part?”

  But Dan has hung up.

  I quiver on the inside. I can’t believe I’m doing this. It all happened so fast. I thought I would get more time to sort out my buyer’s remorse.

  No need to get too worked up. I haven’t even been chosen.

  I take a deep breath. I’ll have to miss work tomorrow. If I don’t get selected, it will have cost me a day’s wages and study time. If I do get selected, well, I’ll make more in a week than I would working months at the hotel. If I lose my job, I could find another.

  And I can still bail, even after getting selected. Dan won’t be happy, but if he thinks I can command that kind of money, he may not want to kick me to the curb, provided I’m still interested in trading in my virginity.

  Feeling slightly better, I make it home. Sitting on my bed, I crack open my economics textbook, but there’s no way I can study.

  “Get changed. We’re going to check out this new bar on Polk,” Talia says as she enters the room.

  “Actually, I think I’m going to stay in,” I reply.

  “You said you were going to go out with us tonight.”

  “I know, but I’m not feeling so hot right now.”

  It’s not a lie. I don’t feel good.

  “You sure?”

  I nod. “I might even skip studying and turn in early.”

  “All right. Hope you feel better.”

  I take a shower to calm my nerves, but I can’t sleep, though I pretend to when I hear Talia and Alexia stumbling into the house around two in the morning. I’m a private person, and though I like my roommates a lot, I don’t feel comfortable sharing what I’m up to. I can’t think of anyone I would tell.

  Eventually, I do fall asleep and wake up just before eight in the morning. Talia is in deep sleep and probably won’t wake until noon. Quietly, I put on a camisole, sweater, and stretchy jeans. I’m not sure what “look the part” means, but I don’t have anything fancy. I pack some clothes and toiletries in a duffel bag and head downstairs, where I call in sick. It’s not a lie because I do feel nauseous.

  Four other women, including Sierra, are waiting in the office when I arrive. They’re dressed much nicer than I am. Two wear cocktail dresses. One wears a form-fitting sheath and four-inch heels. Sierra is in black leather leggings and a bustier that makes her ample breasts look even bigger.

  She narrows her eyes at me. “What are you doing here?”

  “Great recruit, Sierra,” Dan says, walking up behind her. “If your friend gets selected, you’ll qualify for a referral bonus.”

  She perks up. “How much?”

  “If the pricing works out the way I think it will, five hundred.”

  She doesn’t say anything to me after that.

  Dan looks me over and wrinkles his face. “Not a fan,” he says of my outfit, “but given your ‘part,’ it might actually work. At least put on some makeup.”

  Sierra snorts as she observes me applying some lip gloss and mascara, about the only makeup I own at the moment. The other women already have on the full range of cosmetics: foundation, powder, eye liner, lip liner, eye shadow, etc.

  We pile into a van. I sit in the last row next to a beautiful Latina with perfect olive skin and super long eyelashes. I regret not thinking of making myself as presentable as possible, but I think it’s because, deep down, I’m not fully committed to this.

  “My name’s Abril,” she introduces.

  I shake her hand, glad for any camaraderie in these unusual circumstances.

  Sierra, sitting in front of me, turns around. “So you’re a virgin, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I reply cautiously, wondering where she’s going to take this.

  “Kind of old to be a virgin, aren’t you?”

  I don’t say anything. Her question is rhetorical anyway.

  “How old are you?” asks a woman Dan had addressed earlier as Rachel. She seems to be in her mid-twenties and the oldest among us.

  “Twenty-one,” I respond.

  “Wow. I lost my virginity when I was sixteen.”

  “I lost mine at fourteen,” Sierra says.

  “I’m nineteen and still a virgin,” Abril says. “Is that old?”

  “Hell yeah. You like super religious or something?”

  “I’m just Catholic.”

  “So why are you in this?”

  “I think we’re all here for the same reason, right?”

  “Yeah, but I’m no fucking virgin. You really want this to be the way you pop your cherry?”

  Abril flushes and looks down.

  “Is a referral bonus always five hundred?” I ask in an innocent tone, but Sierra glares at me.

  “I’m not really in it for the money,” says Rachel. “I just want to meet rich men. No one else is worth having sex with.”

  “Seriously?” asks Julia, a petite Asian with large almond eyes. “What if he’s totally ugly? What about a guy who doesn’t have money but is totally ripped and hot?”

  “I’d still take the rich guy. Money is the ultimate beauty.”

  “I’d take the hot guy,” says Sierra. “’Course, the best would be a guy who’s fucking rich and hot.”

  “Like that exists outside romance novels,” scoffs Julia.

  “Hot or rich doesn’t make a guy good in bed,” I offer.

  “Listen to the virgin talk,” Sierra sneers. “Like she would know anything about what it takes to be good in bed.”

  “What if a guy is rich and hot but a total jerk?” I ask of the other women.

  “If that mattered, we wouldn’t be here,
would we?” Rachel returns.

  “I bet the majority of men who are hot and rich are jerks,” Julia muses. “I bet it gets to their heads.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Dan interjects. “We’re auditioning for a job, ladies, not some dating service. That’s how you got to look at it.”

  “Who are we auditioning for?”

  I see Dan’s grin in the rearview mirror. “It’s a surprise.”

  Abril has been quiet, so I ask where she lives. We converse a little about where our families are from and where we work—all safe subjects. Abril would like to enroll in community college but has to work to help her parents support five younger siblings and a grandmother.

  Sierra doesn’t bother with me the rest of the drive. Dan cranks up the radio. Rachel puts on Beats to listen to her own music. Julia falls asleep against the window.

  An hour later, after winding up to the top of a hill with views overlooking the Pacific, the van pulls up in front of a stunning three-storied house guarded by several palm and cypress trees. My jaw drops at all the perfectly manicured plants, the floor-to-ceiling windows, and a deck that seems to wrap the entire house.

  “Sweet,” Rachel exhales as we get out.

  A butler, or maybe he’s some kind of security guard, opens the door, and we follow Dan into a large foyer with marble floors and a chandelier overhead. All of us except Dan gawk at our surroundings.

  “You can take ’em into the den,” the butler/guard tells Dan.

  I bring up the end as we pass through the living room with panoramic views of the coastline and down several steps to a more rustic-looking room with oak panels, bookcases, the largest flat-screen TV I have ever seen, a billiard table, and a bar. Not just a counter with sink but an entire bar, like someone airlifted part of a restaurant into this room. Bottles of all shapes and colors line the shelves behind the mahogany bar, which has several stools pulled up to it.

  A man about thirty years old sits on a large leather sofa with his arms spread across the back of it. With dark brown hair cut short, framing his brow in a rectangular shape, a rounded jawline that gives him a boyish look, and a small dent in his chin, he’s good-looking save for the smug expression on his face. He looks clean cut and like someone Lila might approve of, though Lila would never judge a person just on their appearance. Nevertheless, I try to decide if he’s someone I would be okay crawling into bed with.

  My gaze travels to the far corner of the room, where a cue rack is mounted—and my breath stops halfway up my windpipe.

  CHAPTER SIX

  In front of the rack, cue stick in hand, stands Tony Lee.

  He recognizes me, and his face darkens.

  Damn.

  Even if I don’t get selected and only miss one day of work, I’m out of a job for sure.

  I want to look away, but his gaze traps mine.

  “So what do you have for us today?” asks the man I now realize is Eric Drumm.

  “Nothing but the best,” Dan replies. “All good American stock, the way you like it. No Russian skanks or underage Thai girls.”

  Eric gets up to make a closer inspection of the women. He’s much shorter than his dad, the governor of Florida, whom I’ve read is six and a half feet tall.

  Having managed to tear my gaze from Mr. Lee, I look down at the hardwood flooring. My heart beats a mile a minute. Should I back out now? Or should I wait? Maybe I won’t even get picked.

  “What’s with this one?” Eric asks of me.

  My face turns beet red. I’m sure the color takes over my whole face. I don’t blush pretty. Instead, I tend to look like fruit...cherries, apples, cranberries.

  “She’s special,” Dan drawls. “The innocent girl-next-door you always wanted to bang and turn into a whore.”

  I think I look more like an eggplant now. I can’t do this.

  Eric looks at my chest. “Interesting, but I’m more of a tit-man.” He walks over to Sierra and takes a long look at her cleavage. “This one looks real good.”

  Sierra gives him an encouraging smile.

  “But I should let my guest pick first.” He turns to look over at Lee. “See anything you like?”

  “If not, I’ve got more back in the city,” Dan adds. “Any color, shape you want.”

  “Only five thousand each for the week.”

  “Except the virgins. That would be the two lovely ladies at the end there. Mr. Drumm and I agreed their special qualities command a much higher price.”

  Lee stares at Eric with a frown. “I don’t need to buy my women.”

  “I don’t either,” Eric replies, “but it’s a lot more fun this way. Plus, they’ve been screened, and the NDAs are taken care of. Less hassle for us. No worries that some bitch might be trying to take secret pics of you to sell to the tabloids, though my dad’s attorney has a great connect with most of them. And there are no expectations beyond the week. So which one do you like? You can pick two if you want. I know price isn’t a concern for you.”

  “I’m paying?”

  Eric looks slightly abashed. “I guess—as the host—it’s my treat.”

  Even though the Drumms are worth something like three billion dollars, it’s clear Eric isn’t thrilled with having to pay. He walks over to Julia. “How about this one? She’s cute.”

  “The one at the end.”

  I start. Is he referring to me?

  “Great choice,” Dan beams.

  My pulse escalates. I panic, which shuts down my thinking. If I were facing a saber-tooth tiger, I’d be dead meat.

  Eric leans over to Dan. “Did you say they were fifteen thousand?”

  Dan looks taken aback. “We agreed twenty-five thousand, Mr. Drumm.”

  Eric purses his lip in displeasure. “Right. I guess I’ll take the blond.”

  “Great choice,” Dan repeats. “I’ll be in touch with your assistant, Ms. Sanderson, about the particulars.”

  Eric nods. Dan begins to usher Rachel, Abril and Julia out. I want to follow them but am still frozen to my spot. Feeling Lee’s gaze on me, I glance toward him. He doesn’t look happy at all and turns to the billiard table, aiming the stick at the cue ball.

  Eric walks over. “Why does this pool table look so large?”

  “This table isn’t yours?” Lee asks.

  “This isn’t my place. It belongs to one of my dad’s attorneys. I don’t really like traveling to California. I mean, why come to this state when the sun in Florida is just as nice? Too many crazies and hippies live in this state.”

  “So why do you want to develop here?”

  “Makes financial sense. That’s what makes us Drumms such great businessmen. My dad’s willing to stomach his distaste for this commie red state if the opportunity is right.”

  The men seem to have forgotten us, like we’re maids back at The Montclair.

  “So we supposed to keep standing here looking pretty for you boys?” Sierra pipes up.

  Eric grins at her. He nods to the butler/guard. “Joe’ll show you to your rooms.”

  Sierra returns a smile. Meanwhile, Lee doesn’t look up at me. His cue ball strikes the red ball near the other end of the table.

  I don’t understand. Leering, ogling, pawing—I would have expected those behaviors. Lee seems disgruntled.

  Sierra and I follow Joe up to the main floor and then up another flight of stairs to our respective bedrooms. Mine appears every bit as nice as a room in The Montclair. Patio doors lead to the deck that I saw from the front of the house. The queen bed has like a dozen pillows on it and faces a wide fireplace.

  I never dreamed of actually sleeping in a room as nice as the ones I clean, but my circumstances prevent me from enjoying it. I think I would have been more at ease had I been chosen by Eric. I don’t think I would have liked losing my virginity to him. There’s something icky about him. And I think I would have come away with that feeling even if I had met him in a normal setting, like at a bar or grocery store. But Tony Lee...

  Damn. />
  I sit on the edge of the bed, then leap to my feet.

  Condoms! I forgot to get some. What if Lee doesn’t have any? How will I get one? Will they let me make a run to the nearest drugstore? Then I realize if I spend the night, my roommates will worry about me.

  Good going, I tell myself. I find my cellphone and think about what to tell them. I text Talia that I have to work late and might just spend the night at the hotel. I hope she believes me.

  Sinking back down on the bed, I bury my head in my hands. I shouldn’t go through with this. I’m not prepared. Plus, I’m not even sure Tony Lee likes me. You’d think he would, given that he chose me, but then why didn’t he seem interested? He probably would have been just as excited to purchase insurance or one of those annoying additional warranties that the stores try to push onto all electronic gizmos. And because the cashier brings it up just as you’re checking out, you wind up having to make a quick calculation to see if it’s worth an extra twenty bucks to save yourself a hundred and fifty bucks on the off chance your printer breaks down in the next two or three years. Do I know the probability of a printer breaking down? Hell no.

  Do I know the probability that this is all worth it for twenty thousand dollars?

  Hell no.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  From the bedroom window, I see Tony Lee, Eric Drumm and the man named Joe get into a car. I’m not sure where they’re going, but their departure gives me more breathing room. I spend the next hour staring at the ceiling as I lay on the bed. The down comforter is amazingly soft, and I’ve never slept in a bed with down before, but I barely notice. My mind still turns. Maybe I should see how things go and pull the plug if I get really uncomfortable.

  But I’m uncomfortable now.

  I mean really, really uncomfortable. I wonder if there are any special exercises I should be doing down there to prepare myself. I’ve heard women mention Kegel exercises, but I think that had to do with postpartum stuff.