by Pamela Ann
Plucking one out of the leathered case, I reached for my ivory encrusted cutter. It was a present from one of my lovers; one of the few gifts I truly enjoyed. The ivory tusk it had come from wasn’t the byproduct of a poacher—or such was Evangeline’s promise. She’d said it was from her elephant pet who had become horribly ill and they’d had to end her life. She’d loved the pet so much that she wanted me to have something beautiful that had meaning. She was one of the tribal African princesses, so I didn’t question her. Surely princesses didn’t lie? I thought with amusement as I recalled her stating the same thing. She was a woman of beauty and quick wit. I admired that about her. It was unfortunate when we ended our relationship because she was due to marry someone of high ranking from her country.
Lighting my cigar, I thought of Dana and the contents of the safe. The items in there were of value, however they were of no importance in regards to anything vital—those were kept in a place where no one could access it other than myself.
Taking a long draw, I was leisurely exhaling the smoke as I savored the smooth taste it left on my tongue when I heard another knock. Angered that someone dared knock on my door when I had given orders not to be disturbed other than by Benoît, I practically growled in response.
“What?”
I heard the man himself clear his throat before breaking more news. “There’s another urgent matter, sir.”
“Merde!” It was barely noon and this day had led more surprises than Bastille Day. “Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?” (What’s happened?)
I wasn’t known for my temper, nor did I often display it, most especially to the people I employed, but for the past week after that short and curt meeting I’d had with my father, I’d been on a short fuse, about to explode like a ticking time bomb to whomever stepped on my wrong foot.
Father kept reminding me of the oath I had taken. Each year was the very same speech, and it wasn’t as if I was going to ever forget my vow. Yet every year, on the very same day, he visited to make sure I was in check—that I wasn’t being reckless, as he sarcastically put it.
Reckless wasn’t part of my anatomy, however the old man persisted. Though I couldn’t lay the blame on him; we both weren’t at fault that we had been cursed. It had caused my father tremendous pain and suffering, and his “yearly reminder” was done out of love with a hefty amount of caution. It was a curse we both grieved and would endure until we left this earth.
Benoît came into view, seeming undeterred from my outburst. “It’s a matter of a Class A client, sir. He was caught counting cards, and when security detained him, it showed he had insufficient funds to reimburse the checks.”
Money made the world go fucking round and round, just as it did with mine.
“How much does he owe?”
“Three hundred thousand euros,” he uttered without a blink.
“C’est des conneries!” (This is bullshit!) “This man owes me three hundred thousand euros, and he still managed to get inside my casino to gamble some more—, and security didn’t flag him?”
“The finance department wasn’t notified until an hour ago. The security team wouldn’t have known that, Monsieur Xavier. Our men follow protocols, never fear of that.”
They did. Of course, he was right. He was the one who made sure everything was perfect. Batard.
“Where’s this man now?”
“He’s in one of the rooms next to the finance office, Monsieur.”
“Meet me in the casino in the elevator lobby in ten minutes.” I nodded, nose flaring as I put down my cigar, wondering how unlucky I was to be dealing with such bullshit so early in the morning.
Sixty-Four
Hugo
“My daughter—she’ll work the debt off,” the man before me said in such a temperamental tone it somehow set me off like a rocket.
“I beg your pardon? I don’t do this sort of negotiation, Monsieur Callas—you must be mistaken.” This pompous ass of a man was telling me that his daughter—his very own daughter—was to pay off his debts. What a disgrace! The likes of him didn’t deserve any love and support from a daughter he would unthinkably offer like they were chopped meat from a butcher’s stall.
My subtle decline of his “generous” offer seemed not enough to get my point across because he pulled out his phone before sliding it towards me. “She’s willing to pay the debt off for me, if you let me walk out of the door without charges.”
Mon Dieu! This man was beyond appallingly dense. “And what do you suppose she’d do, Monsieur Callas? I am fully staffed. Paying off three hundred thousand euros would take her years—I don’t have such time to waste. I’m running an empire, not a trade show.” I ignored the phone before me, unwilling to even consider the most absurd of ideas.
This wasn’t the first time a man had written bad checks. In fact, this sort of atrociousness happened all the time. Rich men who couldn’t afford to bankroll their expensive lifestyle anymore were willing to auction off their best assets; heirlooms, paintings, cars, yachts—name it, I’d taken them all. I was ruthless in the business arena and every time a man offered their wife or daughters to “pay the debts off,” not only was I harder to negotiate for terms after, but I simply lost respect for them as a person, as a man.
A knock on the door interrupted us.
“Oui?” Barking at the mahogany door, I loosened my tie as I felt my temper rising. Truly, this day was outrageous.
“His daughter is here, sir. She’s requesting to see her father.” Benoît’s voice came through the slit of the slightly ajar door.
“Merde!” I muttered through my gritted teeth as I glared at the overly confident man before me. “You invited her here?” I said accusingly.
Dark, detached eyes met my own. “I alerted her the second the security team asked me to step aside. She lives close. Besides, you might find her a gem.”
This was becoming a circus. Was this man’s gambling a family affair then?
“Let her in—” This better be worth my time, I thought the second the words left my lips.
Constantin Callas was known to be a brash, unscrupulous womanizer and a degenerate gambler. This was the first time I had met the man, and I disliked him on the spot.
Both of our heads turned towards the door when we heard it creak open. Upon entering, a slim figure of a woman with ink black hair and the most fascinating eyes with a small, delicate face captured my undivided attention, striking me like I had never been before in my life. My throat and my groin constricted at the same time, spellbound by the beauty and confidence she exuded. What a sight she was….
“I apologize for interrupting your meeting, Mr. Xavier, but my father said it was urgent I join you both.” Her voice was soft, yet it hinted of enough force to mean she was to be taken seriously. Well, the woman walked into the right room because things truly just became serious.
“Leave us,” I commanded, eyes unwavering at her while the rest of the party in the room, including her father, started to retreat behind the doors. The moment I heard silence, I decided I wanted a better view, therefore I stood up, face not giving away my thoughts, as I sized the would-be prize. My eyes roved over her delicate figure, admiring her beguiling beauty. “What’s your name?”
Her eyes snapped to mine, enthralling me for a second. A heartbeat. “Isobel,” she stated proudly as those blue eyes with hints of violet struck me within. It was immediate. The rush so potent it left me reeling. I felt it in my gut, fueling the heated fire in my groin all the way to my cock.
“Isobel,” I tried her name on my lips, unsure what to make of it. “So… Isobel… What are you doing here?”
She met my gaze, brazen and painstakingly beautiful. “I’m here to help my father.”
Ah, the old man. He was a man who knew quality, and he was certain I would get entranced the moment I laid eyes on his daughter. He knew how to bargain, I’d have to give him credit for that.
“How do you plan to help your father, Isobel?” I raised my brow,
wanting to see where and how far she’d take this conversation. “Three hundred thousand euros is not a small number.”
Determined, she only lifted her chin at me. “I can work for you—be a secretary, a cook, a companion,” she rasped out. “I could be whatever you like…” She trailed off at the last bit of the sentence.
My mouth quirked when she couldn’t utter what she truly meant. No, she didn’t blush, but I could tell it made her uncomfortable. As it should. No right-minded woman should offer herself to pay off her father’s debts.
“I have three girlfriends—well, two at the moment.” I retracted the second I recalled what Dana had been up to. “I can get a woman without having to pay her that hefty amount.”
She looked confused then panicked when my words finally sunk in. “Please, Mr. Xavier—I beg you—I can fill in the third position.”
She seemed desperate, making me more curious as to why she was doing this. There had to be a good reason. “Now, why would I do that? Do you have any special skills to please me that Sherry and Chantel can’t do?”
Beautiful eyes blinked blankly at me. “No.” She shook her head dejectedly. “I do not.”
Gazing at her luminous skin, I felt almost tempted to touch it before common sense took over. “Very well. So tell me again, why should I hire you?”
“Because you’re a good man, and you’d take pity on me.” Her voice was strained. “My father is a hard man, and I’m sure you have no ounce of remorse towards him, but my brother and I—my brother most especially needs him. If father decides to cut him off from his monthly allowance from my grandfather’s estate, things could get very ugly and difficult for the both of us.”
“So you’re saying you’re willing to sell your body to secure your brother’s lifestyle and yours? Did I get that right?”
My heart turned cold. How often did I see these demure, beautiful women and think them angelic, only to be proven wrong when they turned out to be after one thing? Money was a powerful thing to behold. It turned gentle souls to cruel, ruthless beings. It bred selfishness and greed, but most of all, it propelled more evilness in this world. And yet, without it, there would be no system. It was disappointing to learn Isobel was in the same pond as the rest; however, I couldn’t really say I was shocked by her admission. After all, if your father was Constantin Callas, could one really expect more of you?
She opened her cherry glossed lips to protest, but shut them instead and made a small nod, agreeing to everything I threw at her. “I suppose, if you put it that way, then yes, I am selling myself to you.”
There was something in her voice that tugged at me, as if her sadness was something I should take notice of… care for. It was odd.
Remaining mum, I strode towards the silver tray, took the carafe, and poured myself some red wine. “Would you like some?” I offered before taking a sip, eyes still watching her, taking in every expression that crossed her beautiful face.
Biting her bottom lip, she shook her head to decline my offer before stepping closer to me, brows furrowing. “What will happen to my father?”
Precisely like the rest. Since the fool didn’t want to offer anything else apart from her, it said a lot about him and how much he cared for his children. Some people weren’t fit to be parents. But that problem wouldn’t ever be mine. I supposed I could be grateful for that.
Gazing into the remaining liquid in my glass, I paused before answering her. “He’s going to jail. As expected.”
“No. No. Please—help me,” she persisted. “Let me be at your disposal. I promise I won’t let you down.”
Very well. I shall test her resolve… “Come tonight. And no, I won’t do anything to you, but I want you to watch how I take a woman. Then you can decide if this is something you want.”
She licked her lips before nodding nervously at me.
Striding towards the door, I gave her one last, lingering look. “I’ll have someone come get you tonight. Until then… Isobel.”
Sixty-Five
Hugo
At exactly midnight, she entered my bedroom, joining Sherry and Chantel just as I had requested of them. Both of my women were beautiful, but there was something about Isobel that stirred a far more formidable reaction within me. Possibly it could be due to the mere fact that didn’t come to me as a willing woman. She was desperate to fix her father’s crucial problem; consequently she had to sacrifice herself like a lamb to be at my disposal.
Be that as it may, though my principles protested, there was something about the thought of having a reluctant woman forcing herself to open up to a man she barely knew because of an obligation. It was twisted at its best, but the appeal fired my nearing boredom of my usual tastes.
Apart from her beauty, Isobel was different. My cock was certain of it.
I liked aggressive, sensual women, and she was plainly the opposite of that. She had a way about her that gave away the veil of innocence even though she masked it as much as she could. The animal in me wanted to strip it bare—literally and figuratively—and lavish on her unmarred innocence. I felt compelled, driven to be the very man to unleash her into a world full of sensuality, rutting into unparalleled mating.
Staring lustily at her beauty, I saw she had changed her clothes into a demure, black dress while Sherry and Chantel both wore silk robes, ready at a snap of my fingers.
“Mon chéri,” Sherry rasped out as she brazenly strode across the room, bridging the gap before us while the other two stayed back, waiting… watching. My beautiful, blonde, seductive woman gave me a whisper soft kiss before she slowly started to take my clothes off, starting with my silk tie. “We’re here to make you feel better.”
My cock alarmingly didn’t salute to her soft caresses. Sherry was my main lover. She’d been with me for about five years, and in those years never had this ever happened to me. My cock worshipped her, yet tonight, her voice and her soft touch didn’t feel enough.
My hunger was thriving for more…
For Isobel.
However, I had made the promise earlier that I wouldn’t do anything to her. I meant to keep the vow even though I’d end up blue and frustrated. A man of my word was what I was known for, but tonight, my passionate nature tempted to overrule my senses.
Needing more of a distraction before my mind wandered off to the inevitable, I snapped my hard gaze towards my other lover. One look was enough command to have her coming to her heels, naked in a blink of an eye as she abandoned her robe without thought.
“Mon Roi.” (My King.) She seductively smiled at me then got on her knees and slid the rest of my clothing off my body before I felt Sherry’s lips on the back of my neck, breasts pressing against the expanse of my back as her nails dug into the skin of my buttocks.
Across the room, I heard Isobel’s sharp intake of breath just as Chantel’s mouth met the head of my shaft.
Glancing towards her, she had both of her arms wrapped around her stomach as she bit her bottom lip, looking like she’d been caught stealing something valuable. Our gazes clashed and the turmoil of emotions in her face awakened the beast in me. I wanted to comfort and hurt, provide pain and pleasure, anger and delight. The wave of feelings awash over me, leaving me strained and confused, but most of all, raging with a fire so fierce the woman with enchanting eyes could alone stoke it brighter.
Eyes locked together, I was held mesmerized as I felt both Chantel and Sherry sucking my cock, softly, gently—hungrily.
Each second that ticked by without her breaking contact, the harder I got. Though the ladies’ ministrations were excellent, it was the woman across from me—the air of reluctance she portrayed and the avid curiosity—that got me going. Moreover, when I let out a deep, pleasing groan and she dared break contact, the savage beast in me emerged, needing to come out and play.
“Ladies, I need to speak with Isobel,” I spoke softly yet succinctly. Without glancing at my lovers, I knew my cutting command confused them, yet I didn’t have the luxury of time to ex
plain anything. Besides, I never explained anything to anyone. These were part of the rules in being my kept woman. I showered them with all the beautiful things life had to offer, and in turn, they gave me gratitude.
From my peripheral vision, both women quietly gathered their robes and slipped out of the room until it was just the two of us left. She still looked aghast and frazzled. I remained boldly naked—and harder than I had ever been in my thirty-four years of manhood.
Giving her enough time to breathe and get used to the idea we were alone before deciding to close the gap between us, I languidly strode towards her while her eyes fought the need to glance towards my emboldened member, charging with purpose. Once I reached her, my hunger tripled.
“Good evening, Isobel,” I greeted as calmly as I could, mismatching the storm raging within.
Her brow furrowed, nervous and unsure of herself. “Hello, Mr. Xavier,” she meekly said, meeting my dark depths.
“Hugo,” I corrected her. “Let me hear you say my name.”
She nervously licked her lips before whispering my name. “Hugo.” The sound made me groan with pleasure as I felt a small bead seep out of the head of my shaft.
Her eyes dropped towards my raging manhood as I noted the emotions that flittered across her beautifully delicate face.
“Frightened of what it could do to you?” My control was slipping as I tried to portray the unaffected man before her, yet my member gave me away, seeming beyond enraged. Wanting to progress further, I went on with one purpose. “Touch it. It’s been waiting to make your acquaintance.”
Shimmering eyes focused on me, baffled and questioning. “I thought you said you weren’t planning on doing anything with me tonight.”
Her vulnerability made me feel amazingly powerful. “And I will keep to my word, but I never said anything about you not doing anything to me, ma chéri.”
