By the time Heidi returned, my face was red as a tomato.
She looked at me with a curious expression, but didn’t bother to comment. She simply handed me the bathing suit before turning around and giving me privacy.
I still felt weird undressing with someone standing a few feet away, but I knew this was as good as it was going to get. So I shrugged off my clothes, folding them into a neat little pile before putting on the white bikini.
Oh god, it was tight.
The bottoms were practically a thong, something I had never worn before. It wasn’t particularly comfortable. Plus, the top was way too small and my chest spilled from the tiny triangles of fabric.
I felt so exposed.
“Do you have a bigger size?” I asked timidly.
“No, that is our biggest size.”
My face fell. Sometimes, I really hated being so curvy. Well, actually, I hated it most of the time. Finding clothes – much less bikinis – that fit my large frame had always been a struggle, and it was enough to keep me in loose outfits that hid my frame.
“If you are ready, could you please step into the tub?”
“Oh! Sure,” I answered. At least inside the tub, no one would be looking at my body.
Carefully, I stepped inside and moaned softly as the warm water soaked into my skin.
Mmm, it felt so good.
I sunk deeper into it, head nearly submerged.
Oh, this was nice. Very nice.
I closed my eyes, resting my head on a rolled-up towel perched on the edge of the tub. A second later, Heidi reached into the water and grabbed my arm. I jumped in surprise and gasped as water flicked my face.
“Relax. Just let me do my job,” she said in a soothing voice, running an exfoliating sponge along my skin. She was gentle, taking her time while working away.
For a while, we said nothing.
Soft music played in the background.
This was actually quite nice. In a different life, maybe I could enjoy this on a regular basis. A girl can dream, right? Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted.
“So, you’re one of Mr. Black’s girls, huh?”
“What do you mean?” I asked timorously.
“Oh, so you don’t know?” she chuckled. “That’s different.”
“What don’t I know?”
“I think it might be better for you to figure it out on your own.”
I bit my lip, growing nervous. “Don’t you think I should know as much as possible before I get to meet him?” The woman merely shrugged.
“You know what they say, ignorance is bliss.” I sighed, sinking deeper into the bubbles. You just can’t win with some people.
When I left the spa, I felt like a different person. My body felt weightless, skin tingling, and face refreshed. I had never been so pampered in my entire life.
“Did you enjoy your stay?” The chauffeur asked as he opened the door for me.
I nodded, too dazed to respond properly. He helped me into the limousine before jumping in the driver’s seat. “If you’re hungry, I took it upon myself to get you some appetizers.”
It was then that I noticed the tray of food laid out at the mini bar. I inspected my selection. While I was in the spa, I had eaten my fair share of chocolate strawberries, but it was well past lunchtime and I was starting to get a little hungry.
So I picked out a cream cheese and avocado sandwich, nibbling on it carefully, trying not to make a mess. The avocado was perfectly ripe and I smiled as I chewed.
“We’ll stop at Lacey’s Boutique first,” the chauffeur said. “It’s very popular with the ladies, so I hear.”
“Okay.” At this point, it was easier not to argue. After all, I was already on this crazy train ride. I might as well see it to its final stop.
The chauffeur parked in front of a dainty little shop. In the windows, mannequins wore beautiful designer gowns that hugged their plastic bodies.
Apprehension and dread swelled in my belly. It was clearly a store for girls who never ate. Girls who were nothing like me. I would never find anything in my size.
Nonetheless, I plastered a nervous smile on my face and walked inside.
“Hello? How may I help you?” The retail worker scrunched her nose as soon as she saw me still wearing my crumpled pajamas.
“I’m here on account of Mr. Black.” Just saying his name was enough to make me blush.
Her eyes widened. “You are?” She looked me up and down, clearly in a state of disbelief. She glanced over my shoulder. When she spotted the limousine parked against the curb, a knowing smile came to her face. “I see. Victor brought you?”
“Victor?” I repeated, confused. “Oh, you mean the chauffeur. I mean, yes, I suppose.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t actually matter. Come on, let’s see if we can find something for you to wear that isn’t flannel.”
We looked all over the store but nothing fit.
I knew it. My face flushed, before going beet red. This was so embarrassing. And in the end, I left the store empty-handed.
Victor drove me to another store but still, no luck.
Finally, at Le Clair, I was brought to the back where a seamstress started to measure every inch of my body. “What’s going on?” I asked. “I thought we were going to look for clothes.”
The woman shook her head. “We could look all day, but we’d never find anything in your size. I rather not waste our time. As Mr. Black would say, time is money.”
Why did it seem like all these women knew Mr. Black?
Who was he, anyway?
“Um, I’m sorry. I’m kind of new to all this, but do you mind telling me more about this Mr. Black person?”
She looked at me, tilting her head to the side. She was silent for a moment before bursting into laughter. “That’s a good one. Everyone knows Mr. Black.”
I didn’t.
“Um…”
“Oh, honey, you’re not kidding, are you?” she said in a sympathetic voice. But her lips were sealed as well, and she went back to her job. The seamstress continued to wrap her measuring tape around my body, never saying a word. Occasionally she would write down a number on her pad of paper, shaking her head ever so slightly.
She was making me very self-conscious. As if I didn’t feel bad enough about not fitting into any of their sizes. Finally, she spoke again.
“Mr. Black is a lovely man,” she said, waving her hand in my direction. The way she said that made me nervous. A part of me suspected that she was lying just to make me feel better.
“I mean, I can see why you’re here.”
“What do you mean?”
The woman shot me an exasperated look.
“You’re beautiful, sweetheart. Exactly Mr. Black’s type.”
I blushed deeply.
What? I wasn’t beautiful. No, this woman was just being nice. She worked at a luxury boutique where dozens of stunning women walked through the door every day. Surely, I was scraping the bottom of the barrel. But the woman continued, clucking her tongue.
“Oh yes, Mr. Black loves curvy women.”
Huh? How did she know that?
“You’re just his type,” she continued. “Especially with the brown curly hair. He’s a sucker for that too.”
What the hell?
So he’s done this before? Suddenly I felt a chill go down my spine.
I was being used.
I took a shaky breath. It was hard not to feel scared and nervous – after all, I had no idea what was going to happen to me. But no matter what, I’d have to go through with it. If I wanted to help my mother, there was no other choice.
This is just a job, after all. A scary, dangerous job that had my heart pounding in fear … but I’d already come too far, and it was too late to call it quits.
Chapter Six
Melanie
“We’ve nearly reached our destination,” the chauffeur announced, glancing back at me in the rearview mirror. “I hope you’re prepared to
meet Mr. Black.”
“I guess so.” Realistically, I didn’t feel like I had much choice in the matter. My mother had dragged me into this mess and now it was up to me to hold her up to her end of the bet. If there wasn’t so much money on the line, I wouldn’t be doing this, but the thought of my mother finally getting treatment for her alcoholism motivated me.
I would go through hell and back if it meant helping her.
“There’s really nothing for you to worry about. Mr. Black is kind at heart.” The chauffeur finished speaking and smiled, obviously trying to comfort me.
“Right.” I nodded, despite the butterflies already swirling around inside my chest.
Peering through the window, I watched as the neighborhood transformed from everyday middle-class homes to extravagant mansions. The buildings loomed into the sky, decorated with detailed architecture and impressive entryways. I couldn’t even guess how much some of these must have cost.
Probably a fortune.
Eventually we arrived at a large, golden gate. With a push of a button, it opened, swinging back silently on its hinges. The chauffeur carefully maneuvered the limousine into the driveway.
I craned my neck, desperate for a better view but the large pillars that supported the gate blocked my line of sight. So I waited and a few seconds later, my eyes nearly bugged out of my head.
It was ginormous.
“Wait, this is Mr. Black’s house?” I asked, gaping in disbelief.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“This is a castle,” I gasped with disbelief. The word tasted unfamiliar in my mouth, like even the word “castle” was too good for the likes of me.
Victor chuckled. “Not quite. But you’re right in that Mr. Black drew his inspiration from many of the medieval castles found in the Portuguese country side.”
I continued to stare at it, unable to do anything else but gape. It really was huge. Constructed entirely of stone, the house stood atop a hill, looking like a gray giant. White marble accentuated the outer details, creating a very pleasant aesthetic contrast.
I turned my head as the car inched closer and closer, amazed by the immaculate lawn that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see. It was perfectly green with blooming gardens pushed against the edges of the mansion.
The entryway, however, was so stunning that I couldn’t look away. A large, wooden door stood guard. On either side were large marble columns carved with intricate designs all the way to the top. The more I looked at it, the more it reminded me of the Pantheon. It was stunning. And to the side was an impressive water fountain depicting Aphrodite and the golden apple.
“Wow,” I whispered to myself.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” the chauffeur asked with a chuckle.
“Impressive doesn’t even come close to describing it. This place is amazing.”
“Wait until you see the interior,” he said with a wink before parking in front of the entryway. A second later he opened my door, offering a hand. I took it and slowly stepped out of the car.
As I stood in front of the massive building, my heart started to pound.
For a few minutes, the mansion had distracted me from my so-called ‘job.’ I had forgotten all about the bet and what was now expected of me but it came crashing back in seconds, along with a sense of crippling doubt.
I gulped.
Even wearing expensive clothes and with my hair and make-up professionally done, I felt inadequate. I didn’t belong here. This was rich person territory and I was anything but. I felt like an unwanted tourist. Or an imposter.
And, the worst part was, I had no idea what to expect.
A million and one thoughts swirled through my head.
Was he going to expect sex? The thought of sex alone was enough to make my heart race, but sex with a stranger? My stomach twisted into nervous knots and a bead of cold sweat dripped down my neck. I’d never even seen a man naked before and now I could feel the pressure closing in around me.
Was he going to expect me to do extremely sexual things like play with toys or bondage? I gulped, nearly panicking.
“Ms. Carmichael, are you all right?” The chauffeur gently placed a hand on my shoulder. His eyes were warm and understanding. “Do you need a minute?”
“Um yes,” I whispered, finding it hard to breath properly through my mini panic attack. But unfortunately, Victor only kept talking.
“I wouldn’t linger too long. Mr. Black doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” he said.
I nodded, leaning against the limousine for support. Closing my eyes, I told myself to relax as I began going through some breathing exercises that I had picked up at yoga class.
Finally, I managed to calm down. I straightened myself out, rolled my shoulders back, and stepped forward. It was now or never. Either way, I had to do this – for my mother’s sake.
“Okay, I’m ready now,” I said, trying to sound as confident as possible.
“Then please proceed to the front door. You’ll find it unlocked.”
Unlocked? That was weird. Was this Aaron Black one of those eccentric billionaire types? Oh no. I looked back at Victor, waiting for him to guide the way, but he stood stationary, hands clasped behind his back, looking like a statue. I guess I’m on my own. Taking another deep breath, I nodded, unable to speak. Well, here goes nothing. Doing my best to keep steady while balancing on my new heels, I started forward. The shoes clicked loudly as I walked, and I felt like a show pony about to perform before a crowd.
Just relax.
It felt like there were a million stairs to climb but eventually I reached the front door. When I glanced back at the chauffeur for direction, he simply nodded again with encouragement.
I guess I really was on my own. Slowly, I reached forward, wrapping my fingers around the golden door handle. With little effort on my part, it swung open. I stepped over the threshold.
Damn.
Now this was the lap of luxury for sure. Polished marble floors. A glittering crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. A spiral staircase complete with a carved marble banister that matched the outside pillars. And not to mention, the stunning paintings that lined the walls. They were all framed by expensive-looking moldings that really brought out their color and beauty.
Unable to move past the front door, I just stood there, practically drooling.
Suddenly, an older woman wearing khakis and a polo shirt appeared from the left-hand archway that seemed to lead into some sort of formal dining room. She smiled and held out her hand. “Hello, I’m Grace, the main housekeeper here at the Black Estate. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. We’ve all been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”
“Oh, it’s nice to meet you too.” I said, my voice falling flat as I shook her hand. “I’m Melanie.”
She nodded. “Come in please, and let me show you around.”
As we ventured deeper into the house, my eyes grew wider and wider. Grace led me out of the foyer and down a long hall lined with more exquisite art. I couldn’t begin to guess what everything had cost.
“We have two floors. The main floor is where Mr. Black likes to entertain his guests, so you’ll find the main kitchen, sitting area, and a few drawing rooms. Upstairs is more private. Bedrooms, libraries, and his office are all located there,” she explained, pointing out certain rooms as she went.
There was so much to take in that it was hard to concentrate. Drawing rooms? It sounded like an Edith Wharton novel from the Gilded Age. Still, I tried my best to play it cool.
“And we’ve reached one of Mr. Black’s favorite parts of the house.” Grace swept out her hand toward large floor-to-ceilings that looked out into the backyard. I stepped forward, surprised to find a beautiful infinity pool that sparkled with crystal clear water.
“Wow,” I whispered, blown away by the amazing, mountain-top view of Tucson. Already, it was starting to light up for the evening, looking like a sea of twinkling stars.
“Yes,” Grace said. “Mr. Black always
enjoys the view.”
I swallowed nervously and tried to imagine him here. What kind of man would keep such a house just for himself? And when he stepped outside in the evenings to admire the view, what sorts of things were running through his mind? It was strange – my impression so far of Mr. Black was that he was a cultured, elegant man.
But men with elegance and culture don’t usually go around buying virgins.
Grace cleared her throat and I flushed. “We have more to see,” she said as she turned on her heel and led me back inside. “Come with me, please. To the right, we have the kitchen.”
The housekeeper diligently led me around. At times, I struggled to keep up with her. Every room seemed more luxurious than the last, and I couldn’t deny that my own curiosity was mounting as we made our way through Mr. Black’s splendid home.
Finally, we ended up at the stairs once more. Without skipping a beat, Grace grabbed hold of the banister and started the climb. I followed suit.
For some reason, my heart started to race.
I hadn’t seen Mr. Black anywhere on the first floor which meant he was probably upstairs. Did this mean I was going to meet him now? The thought made my stomach tighten. I wasn’t ready.
Still, Grace continued to the top of the stairs. From there, she turned left, proceeding down a long, carpet-lined corridor. It seemed to drag on forever but eventually we stopped in front of a door.
Grace stepped forward, knocking on it. She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she opened the door, gesturing for me to step inside.
Gulp. I hesitated.
“Go on,” she whispered, offering an encouraging smile.
I nodded, taking a deep breath before I stepped inside, trying to gather every ounce of courage I had.
It was a study, masculine and spare. And sure enough, the man of the house stood by the window, clad in a fitted suit that accentuated his figure. Tall, lean, and powerful. My heart raced even faster.
The door closed behind me. I didn’t move.
Slowly, he turned, and my heart skidded to a stop because my buyer was drop dead gorgeous. Black hair swept up from an tanned forehead, revealing perfect blue eyes and a patrician nose. His lips were curved into a sly smirk and his skin was bronzed with good health. He was obviously older, but looked confident and sexy and a sharp thrill of attraction ran down my spine as I fought to tear my gaze free.
Buying A Bride Page 5
