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

by EM BROWN

  At the cabin, a stocky man named Vince opened the door. At 6’2”, Ben stood taller than most of his friends, save for the ones playing in the CBA, but Vince was easily a head taller than Ben. He didn’t know why, but the first thought Ben had on meeting Vince was whether or not he could take the guy out. He was confident he could. Men with Vince’s build tended to be slower and less agile.

  Jake appeared in the foyer. “Benji, glad you could make it.”

  The hairs on Ben’s neck curled. Had Jake just called him Benji?

  “Only my mom and sisters ever call me Benji.”

  “Oh, hey, no problem, brah.”

  “Where’s Jason?”

  “He and Derek are coming up together, and their driver got lost. You like bourbon? I was about to open up a bottle of Kentucky straight. It’s uncut and unfiltered.”

  Vince offered to take Ben’s bags up to his room, the last one on the left upstairs, so Ben followed Jake into the great room with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto the lake. Jake walked over to the bar, but Ben stopped at the threshold.

  At the left end of the room before the fireplace knelt two women. One was a blond in a tight pink faux leather dress. The other was completely naked. Both of them looked disheveled.

  “What the fuck?” Ben let drop.

  “I see you found my acquisitions,” Jake drawled as he opened the bottle of whiskey.

  Ben met the eyes of the blond. She glanced down as if not wanting to be caught looking. The other woman stared at him with what seemed like defiance and suspicion. His gaze did a quick sweep of her figure, and his groin tightened of its own accord. She had nice B-cup breasts with dark chocolate areolas, a smooth stomach that led to swollen hips and a cute patch of curls between shapely thighs.

  Her left cheek appeared a little discolored and swollen. Her hair was partially and unevenly straightened, and her mascara had spread below her eyes as if she had slept without taking her makeup off.

  Jake handed him a glass of bourbon. “You missed out, man. There were prime pickings last night.”

  Ben glanced at the women again. For women who wanted this shit, they didn’t look too happy at the moment.

  “Do you have the portfolios I requested?” Ben asked Jake.

  “Yeah, but you really want to talk business right now? You just got here.”

  “Now’s as good a time as any. Better. We don’t have to bore Jason and Derek.”

  “Fine, fine.”

  Jake went to sit at a table before the window. He gestured to the manila folders. “They’re all right here. You’ll want this guy, though. Jamaal Dixon. He’s playing in the EuroLeague right now.”

  Ben set his bourbon down on the table and leafed through the portfolios. When transacting business, he preferred not to drink. It was hard enough keeping his mind on business with two women, one of them naked, kneeling just yards from where he sat.

  “They just going to kneel there the whole time?” he asked, trying to keep his gaze off the naked one—especially her tits and pelvis.

  “That’s what slaves do,” Jake replied as he poured himself more bourbon. “Whatever I tell them to do.”

  “Why is one of them naked?”

  “Oh, that was her preference.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw the young woman stiffen.

  “What about the one from UCLA?” Ben asked. “Coach saw him at an exhibition game and likes the way he plays.”

  “You’ll have to pay good money for Tyrell Jenkins. He could have been a second-round draft pick if he didn’t have that sprain late last year.”

  They talked about the merits of the different players and the salary each was likely to command. The discussion went slowly because Jake had had three shots and wasn’t too focused on business.

  “Give Tyrell a call,” Ben said.

  “I don’t know that he’d consider going off to live in China.”

  “Have you asked him?”

  “No.”

  “Then feel him out.”

  “Okay, I’ll feel him out.”

  Ben waited.

  Jake stared back. “What? Now?”

  “Now.”

  Jake’s whole body seemed to curl. “Fine. Since you sound like you’re in a hurry, Benji.”

  Ben gave him a hard look. “Only people with pussies call me Benji. You got a pussy, Jake?”

  “Chill. I just forgot.”

  After Jake pulled out his cellphone and wandered back to the bar to add ice to his glass, Ben sauntered over to the women. The blond looked really young. Like she was barely legal.

  “How long have you been kneeling here?” he inquired.

  The blond didn’t answer and continued to stare at the rug that probably didn’t provide much cushioning from the shiny hardwood floor. The other woman glanced over to Jake before answering, “Three hours.”

  Three hours. Jake was a bigger asshole than he’d thought. Ben played around with heavy BDSM, but he had never made a woman kneel for three hours straight.

  “You got a name?”

  Again, the blond remained silent.

  “Apparently, we’re Slut #1 and Slut #2,” replied the naked one.

  She said it as if it was his fault she had a name she obviously didn’t like. She didn’t like him, either. Ben sensed that right away. A porcupine was less prickly than her.

  “Tyrell didn’t pick up, but I left him a message,” Jake said as he walked over with his shot glass refilled. “No use talking to my slaves. They’re not supposed to talk without my say so.”

  Ben raised his brows. “And they signed up for this?”

  Jake rolled his eyes. “They’re getting compensated a shitload of money for their time. Plus, they get to live out their Fifty Shades of Grey fantasies.”

  “How much do they get?”

  “I don’t know exactly. I paid just over a hundred thousand for blondie and the black girl.”

  The blond’s stomach growled.

  “Are you hungry?” Ben asked.

  Jake grabbed his crotch. “I fed her this morning.”

  The prospect of food made the blond look up.

  “If they’ve been kneeling here for three hours, they’re probably hungry. Don’t you feed your slaves?”

  “Sure. I just—it wasn’t lunchtime yet.”

  Ben looked at his watch. “It’s past noon. Get them something to eat.”

  Jake stared at him in disbelief. Ben could tell he wasn’t making any friends ordering Jake about, but he wasn’t interested in being the guy’s brah.

  “You are the host,” Ben added.

  With a discontented snort, Jake walked over to the expansive Tuscan-inspired kitchen, opened up the well-stocked refrigerator and pulled out a brand-new jar of pickles. Walking back, he set the jar on the coffee table near the women.

  Ben crossed his arms. “Open it.”

  “They’re not incompetent.” Jake nodded to the blond. “Help yourself to some pickles, slut.”

  The blond reached for the jar and tried to twist the cap off. Jake had already stalked off to the bar, so Ben took the jar from the blond and twisted the cap off for her. She reached in eagerly for a pickle.

  “Just Slut #1,” Jake called from the bar. “I’m not happy with the other one.”

  Ben looked at the second woman, expecting her to hang her head in disappointment. Her stomach had rumbled, too. Instead, she seemed to expect Jake’s response. Her jaw tightened and her eyes flashed.

  “How come?” Ben inquired.

  “She wouldn’t eat her breakfast.” Jake smiled as if listening to some silent inside joke.

  Ben looked at her cheek again. Though her skin was darker than what Ben was used to assessing, the discoloration in her cheek was definitely the beginning of a bruise. “So you hit her?”

  “I didn’t hit her. What do you mean?”

  “Her cheek.” Dipshit.

  “What about her cheek?”

  “It looks swollen.”

  J
ake shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t notice anything. I’m gonna go see if Vince went to pick up some lunch.”

  After Jake had left and while the blond was finishing off her third pickle, Ben turned to the older woman. She looked to be in her mid-twenties. She also looked intelligent. He had noticed her studying him, sizing him up. He sensed she was a little on edge but didn’t want to show it. Only when his gaze dropped to her naked body—he couldn’t help but look at those inviting curves—did she show any discomfort. When his gaze went back to her eyes, he read their message loud and clear.

  Fuck you, they said.

  “Just got a text from Derek that they’re almost here,” Jake announced upon returning.

  “How much for her?” Ben asked. The words were out of his mouth before he could think on them.

  “What’s that?”

  “How much? I want to buy her.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Kimani blinked in disbelief. She wasn’t sure if she should be glad or not that the tall guy who didn’t like to be called Benji wanted her. If it had been a different place, a different situation, she would have found the guy hella good-looking with his wide brow, piercing black eyes, and strong jawline. But since he was a friend or associate of Master Asshole, she wasn’t about to give him credit for anything.

  “She’s not for sale,” replied Jake.

  She had heard him introduce himself on the call to Tyrell. Now that she had a first name and knew that he was involved in the sports profession, she could probably figure out who he really was. But she didn’t just want to embarrass him by writing an expose. Even with the #MeToo movement happening, a guy like him would probably just get off with a slap on the hand.

  “You had your chance,” Jake continued. “You chose not to go to the auction.”

  “I’ll pay double. Take her off your hands.”

  “I can handle two.”

  Benji didn’t say anything, but Kimani sensed he questioned Jake’s ability.

  “Besides, I want to see what jungle fever is all about,” Jake drawled. “I’ve never fucked black pussy before.”

  “Two hundred thousand.”

  Kimani felt her eyes pop out of her head. How did these people throw money around like this? There were hard-working people who would never come close to having that kind of money to spend on frivolous things like a week with a sex slave.

  “Be a good host,” Benji coaxed as if talking to a child. “Give me the girl for two hundred thousand.”

  Jake narrowed his eyes. “Why you want her so bad?”

  “Why do you? Sounds like she’s not a well-behaved slut.”

  “She just needs some disciplining.”

  “I can handle that. Two hundred is my last offer.”

  Jake pursed his lips and scratched his chin. “Fine. You can have her. Even though it was your choice to come stag, I’d feel bad if you didn’t have any pussy like the rest of us. Have the money wired to my account.”

  A long silence ensued.

  “Fuck lunch,” Jake said at last. “I’m going on the boat. You wanna go on the boat, Slut #1?”

  Claire gave a timid nod. Grabbing her hand, he stomped off with her, leaving Kimani alone with Benji.

  Her pulse quickened as they stared at one another. As much of an asshole as Jake was, was this man the lesser evil? She was comforted a little by the fact Benji was nice enough to request food on their behalf, and as she found herself pulled into the ebony pools of his eyes, an odd and kindred sensation wound around her heart. Maybe it was their shared dislike of Jake.

  The man was taller than most Asians she knew, and when he removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, her breath faltered. He had looked model-perfect in his suit, but with his jacket off, she could see he had a really nice build.

  His gaze traveled her body, taking in every naked inch. She flushed beneath his study. She had convinced herself not to care about being undressed before Jake. The asshole was deliberately trying to make her feel exposed, vulnerable and degraded. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. But with the current pair of intense, clear eyes staring at her, she felt self-conscious.

  Her stomach grumbled, and she glanced at the pickle jar. Normally she wasn’t a fan of pickles, but she was pretty hungry at the moment.

  Seeing the focus of her gaze, he said, “Go on, have some.”

  She reached into the jar and pulled out a slice but kept him in her line of sight in case he made any sudden movement.

  After laying his jacket over the back of the sofa, he walked over to the kitchen. She watched him assemble a bag of ice, which he brought to her.

  “For your cheek,” he explained.

  Finishing the pickle slice, she accepted the ice and pressed it to her face.

  “Thank you...” He hadn’t said how she should address him, so she used what the Scarlet Auction staff had recommended. “Master.”

  “Where’d you get the bruise?”

  She didn’t respond. She was pretty sure he and Jake weren’t the best of friends, but she didn’t want to assume too much. What if he told Jake? What if Jake called off the deal and punished her for contravening what he had said? She had already decided she was going to gather as much evidence as possible so that she could nail Jake’s ass to the wall.

  When she didn’t answer, Benji didn’t press. Instead, he went back to the kitchen and made tea using some fancy coffee machine. He brought over two steaming mugs.

  “I’m not much of a tea drinker,” she said.

  “Drink it anyway.”

  Setting down the ice, she took the mug he held out for her. Ugh. Green tea. Her least favorite.

  “Sit down,” he said as he took a seat on the sofa opposite her.

  Sitting down had never felt so good. She had taken to shifting her weight from one side to the other to provide some relief for her poor aching knees.

  “On the sofa,” he added when she plopped down on the floor.

  She crawled onto the sofa and pulled up her knees to provide some coverage for her nakedness.

  “What’s your name?” he asked after taking a sip of his tea.

  She didn’t see many guys his age drink tea, especially when there was expensive alcohol around as an option. She noticed he had barely touched his bourbon. Jake had also mentioned he’d opted out of the Scarlet Auction. Why was that?

  “Your real name,” he clarified.

  Did that mean he wasn’t going to call her Slut #2?

  “Montana.”

  He raised his brows. “Don’t know many black women named Montana.”

  She almost retorted that she doubted he knew many black people at all. To keep herself from saying anything, she sipped her tea and grimaced at the flavor. For a spell, he did nothing but drink his tea and watch her.

  “There any coffee?” she ventured to ask finally, hoping to make him go into the kitchen.

  “Tea’s better for you.”

  Patronizing bastard. His gaze was at her tits. Looking away, he shifted on the sofa and cleared his throat.

  “You mind if I get dressed?” she decided to ask, hoping that he wasn’t as big an asshole as Jake. “It’s a little cold in here.”

  He deliberated for a moment before answering, “I’d prefer you didn’t.”

  She clenched her jaw in disappointment. So much for him being the nice guy. When she met his gaze, she had the strange feeling he was testing her.

  “You went to Nerd Nation,” he commented, eying her class ring.

  She looked at him, startled. Most people didn’t know Stanford by that moniker.

  “I was there, too,” he added. “For my MBA.”

  That doesn’t mean we have anything in common she wanted to say. The people in the graduate school of business were a world apart from the activists and liberal arts undergraduates she’d hung out with.

  “What did you study?” he asked.

  “Communications.”

  “No wonder you need money.”

&nbs
p; She sucked in her breath, wanting to tell him she didn’t need the money, especially his. Well, not that she couldn’t use more—a lot more—to pay off her student loans, but it wasn’t like she was destitute. Especially not after she got hired at the Tribune.

  “How much do you get from the Scarlet Auction?” he asked next.

  “Forty percent.”

  Out of two hundred thousand, that would be eighty thousand dollars. She could do a lot with eighty thousand dollars. But his transaction was directly with Jake, so she wouldn’t see any of it.

  Vince walked in carrying bags of what was probably lunch. He leered at her as he walked by before placing the bags on the table.

  “Where’s Jake?” Vince asked.

  “On the water,” Benji replied.

  Vince helped himself to some bourbon, then sat down at the table and unpacked a sandwich for himself. Benji’s cellphone rang and Kimani heard a guy on the line say, “Hey, Ben.”

  So his name was Ben. Might even be short for Benjamin. She stored the information in her mind to look up a guy named Ben or Benjamin that was associated with the Chinese Basketball Association and went to Stanford’s business school. She was pretty sure she could come up with his full identity.

  She couldn’t make out everything the man calling Ben said, but she heard something about his date having a cousin willing to come to the lake.

  “Don’t bother. I got my own,” Ben replied.

  “Yeah? Cool,” said the other guy “I mean, I’d share mine if I had to, but I’m not really into the threesome thing—unless it’s two girls on one of me, of course. See you soon.”

  Kimani stayed the impulse to toss her tea at Vince, who blatantly ogled her as he chomped on his potato chips. Ben hung up his cell, glanced at Vince, then removed his jacket from the back of the sofa.

  Rising to his feet, he held out his jacket to her. “You said you were cold.”

  She looked up at him first in surprise, then gratitude. Taking the jacket, she quickly shrugged it on. The material was amazing. She had never worn anything so silken before.