Intense: A Dark Billionaire Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  It was totally surreal. I was alone in my own little vestibule with a small computer screen in front of me. I could see the starting bid and I watched as men began to put money down on her. As soon as I saw that other men wanted her, I knew that I had to have her. I couldn’t let some other bastard take her home, not when I couldn’t be sure how they’d treat her.

  It was a moment of insanity, but I wrote an absurdly high number and submitted it. There was a pause and then my bid was accepted. No other bids came through, and a minute later I won the auction.

  After Aria left the stage, I was escorted out of my room by the same young woman that brought me in there. She took me down a series of hallways and left me outside of a room, saying that Aria is in there and that I can go in any time. She handed me a sheaf of papers with the winning bid amount on it and what appeared to be a contract.

  Then she left, and that’s how I find myself standing outside of this room, my heart pounding.

  I can’t believe how nervous I am to meet her. I’ve met thousands of beautiful women in my life and slept with a fair number of them, too. But I’ve never felt this nervous before. It’s absurd.

  I own her. I bought this beautiful girl to keep for a month. I have responsibilities that were all described to me beforehand, like making sure she’s fed and clothed and made comfortable. She has to be able to contact her people once a day, or else they’ll come looking for her. And they physically check on her a few times as well, to make sure she’s not being abused. If I break terms, there will be consequences, though they didn’t say what kind of consequences.

  I don’t plan on hurting her. I don’t know what I really plan on doing with her, to be totally honest. I don’t want to fuck some girl that I bought and who has to do what I want. That’s not fun, not at all.

  As I stand there, it suddenly occurs to me what I have to do.

  If I’m going to sleep with her, she has to want it. I can’t just take her because I paid for her. There’s no fun in that, and it makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable just thinking about it.

  I know what I need to do. I have to seduce her. I have to make her want to do it.

  That’s going to be hard. She’s an escort and it’s not likely that she genuinely wants to fuck her clients. She’s doing all of this for money, and I have to convince her to do it for sheer pleasure.

  I have a month to pull it off. Maybe I’ll even get some companionship out of this deal if she is never seduced. It’ll be hard to know when she truly wants it, since it’s her job to make me feel like she does, but I’m a good judge of character.

  It’s how I got so far in business. I can read people and understand what they really want from life. I know how to give it to them and how to take it away. I have to assume that I’ll be able to see through her bullshit and truly understand when she wants me and when she’s just putting on a performance for the man that bought her.

  I can feel my nervousness slowly recede as I begin to plan how I’m going to do this. I feel good having an idea and there’s an excitement coursing through me, beneath all the uncertainty.

  I haven’t felt excited in months, not since work got insanely busy. But now I feel it, deep down in my core, and I can’t wait to see what I can do with this woman. With my new toy, my Aria.

  I take a deep breath then open the door. I shut it softly behind me before facing her, a grin spreading out across my face.

  She’s gorgeous. Way more fucking gorgeous in person. She looks about as nervous as I felt standing outside, which makes me feel so much more comfortable. She’s smaller than I expected, too, which I really like. I like that I am physically dominant and larger than she is. I love her small, perky breasts and her hips and her thick ass, her body is perfect.

  And I love the look on her face. This is the first time she’s actually seeing me. I bet she expected some old, fat rich guy with no hair and halitosis. Instead, she’s getting me, and I can tell she already likes it.

  “Hello, Aria,” I say. “My name is Ethan. And I just spent a lot of money to make you mine.”

  She nods, her eyes wide. She looks like she might pass out, so I pour her a glass of water from the side table and place it in front of her. She takes a few sips before putting it back down.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  I put out my hand and she places hers in mine. We shake softly. “Good to meet you,” I say.

  “You too,” she answers, looking away.

  I sit down across from her and place the contract down on the table between us. There are pens in a small holder at the edge of the table and I can’t help but smile to myself. These people are professionals.

  “Are you nervous, Aria?” I ask her, knowing the answer.

  “Yes,” she admits. I find that endearing.

  “Why?”

  “I’ve never done this before.”

  I raise an eyebrow, a little surprised. “Never?”

  “Never,” she confirms. “I’ve never been an... escort before.”

  Interesting. I lean back in my chair and watch her, studying her. She does look more nervous than I expected and she’s having a hard time making eye contact, probably from her nervousness. Finally, I get her to look at me, and she smiles.

  “What?” she asks.

  “Just looking at you. You’re not what I expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “This is my first time, too.”

  “Really?” She sits up. “You’ve never bought an, uh, escort before?”

  “Never,” I say. “You’re my first.”

  “Well then. I’m glad we can do this for the first time together, then.”

  “Me too,” I say. She smiles and I can’t help but feel warm toward her.

  “What’s this?” she asks, taking the contract.

  “I’m not totally sure. I think we’re supposed to sign it.”

  She starts reading over it and I study her as she does it. Her eyes narrow a bit and she subvocalizes ever so slightly. That suggests to me that she needs glasses normally, and they probably wouldn’t let her wear them. I make a note of that for the future.

  She looks up at me and smiles, blushing. “You’re watching me,” she says.

  “Sorry. Does that make you uncomfortable?”

  “No, I mean, this is just weird.”

  I laugh. “Very weird,” I agree.

  “Did you read this yet?”

  “Not yet. I glanced at it in the hallway. Most of it seems like pretty standard legal stuff, NDA and the like.”

  “NDA?”

  “Non-disclosure agreement. I use them a lot.”

  “What do you do?” she asks, cocking her head.

  “I founded World Line. Have you heard of it?”

  She perks up again. “I know that company. You guys manufacture a bunch of stuff. Lots of medical equipment.”

  “That’s right. I’m surprised you know that.”

  “I wanted to be a doctor for a long time.”

  “What happened?” I ask, and regret it immediately.

  She looks down at the contract. “Life,” she says, and I feel like an asshole. She goes back to reading, the moment lost between us.

  What a stupid question to ask. I know she’s clearly not a doctor, though I can’t help but wonder why she’s doing this. From what I can tell, she’s normal, though very attractive and intelligent. I don’t know her at all though, and people have their reasons. It’s just another mystery I’ll have to unravel. I want to get to know the real girl sitting across from me, not just the girl she’s going to pretend to be. I don’t want her to be some slave that makes me happy. I want to own her completely, not just because I’ve spent money on her.

  It’s a dangerous feeling, but I can’t help myself. She finally makes it through the contract and signs her name at the end before spinning it around toward me.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “You’re welcome.”

  She watches
me as I start reading. I glance up twice before smiling at her. “Your turn to watch me?” I ask.

  “Exactly.”

  I can’t help but grin and she smiles back. “I’ve tasted my own medicine and it is bitter.”

  She laughs. “A friend of mine used to say that a long time ago.”

  “It’s a good one.” I flick the pen, twirling it around my fingers, an absent-minded gesture. “Go ahead and watch if you want. We might as well get comfortable with each other.”

  “Good point,” she says, and puts her chin in her hands. “Don’t be shy, Ethan. I’ll just sit here quietly, judging and such.”

  I laugh and shake my head. She’s clever and funny once you get past her nervousness.

  I go back to the contract and begin to read.

  The Syndicate

  Herein, Ethan Locks (“The Client”) and Aria Taylor (“The Seller”) enter into a legally and emotionally binding contract with The Syndicate. Breaking of any stipulation, in spirit or in letter, results in a voiding of this contract. Consequences will be swift and merciless. Nothing protects a bastard, a cheat, or a thief.

  The Client agrees to provide all basic needs the The Seller for the duration of the contract, here listed as One Month. The Client agrees not to harm The Seller without her consent. The Client agrees to allow The Seller to contact The Syndicate at least once a day, and The Client will submit to all inspections by The Syndicate.

  The Seller agrees to obey The Client unless it risks her safety. The Seller agrees to do everything in her power to satisfy The Client. This includes but it not limited to sexual favors, housework, emotional comforts, public displays, gifts, and so on. The Seller is owned by The Client and is bound to do her duty.

  The contract goes on from there, dropping into ever more legalistic jargon, but that opening is fascinating. It’s unlike any contract I’ve ever seen, and the bit about thieves and retribution is fascinating. The Syndicate is obviously a serious and professional group just based on their facilities, but this contract hints at something much more.

  I skim the rest of it. Everything seems standard, laying out NDA clauses, liability clauses, and finally payment. The amount I bid on her is listed there at the bottom. I smile and turn the page toward her.

  “Did you see this?” I ask.

  Aria glances down and looks back up at me. “I did,” she admits.

  “How does that make you feel?”

  She pauses for a second, clearly searching for words. Finally, she says, “I’m not worth that much money.”

  I stare, surprised. I didn’t expect that response, but it hints at something much deeper to her.

  “You’re worth more than two million,” I say.

  “Maybe,” she says, looking away.

  I watch her for a moment then turn the contract back to me. I flip to the last page and sign it, not needing to read the rest of it.

  That moment sealed it for me. I have to have this girl. I need her. I want her more than I could ever have imagined. Not just because I’m paying two million dollars for her, but because she fascinates me. The money is nothing. But her submission, her obedience, her genuine seduction... that’s worth it all.

  Once the pages are signed, the door suddenly opens and the young woman steps inside. “Are you all ready, Mr. Locks?” she asks.

  “I am,” I say, standing.

  “Good. Please, bring that contract and follow me.”

  I look at Aria and she smiles at me. “See you later,” I say.

  “Yeah. See you.”

  I smirk at her for a second longer then turn and follow the woman out of the room.

  My heart is hammering and I don’t know what’s going to happen from here. I just signed that insane contract and now it’s official. I’m going to pay these people then take Aria home with me.

  I own her. She’s mine. I bought her for an absurd sum of money and I get to do whatever I wish with her for one month.

  And I wish to seduce her until she’s begging for me, genuinely begging for me, out of her mind with desire.

  4

  Aria

  I feel better as soon as I get a chance to change into normal clothes.

  Meeting Ethan for the first time made me feel things I never expected. He wasn’t at all what I assumed he’d be. He’s interesting, attractive, smart, and funny. He made me feel comfortable, despite that one tiny blip in the conversation. I actually found myself wanting to be around him, and not just because I’m getting paid.

  I still can’t believe how much he spent. If I make it through this and everything goes as it should, I’ll walk away with over one million dollars. I won’t ever have to do anything like this again. I’ll pay off my debts, find a new apartment, find a new job, or maybe even go back to school. I’ll have options again. I’ll be free.

  But only if I get through this.

  As soon as Ethan leaves, ponytail comes back and takes me into the back rooms again. He instructs me to get changed, which I do, and he brings my bags. Once I’m in street clothes, and feeling much more comfortable, I carry my two bags full of all my earthly possessions out through a back door and into a big black sedan.

  Ethan is sitting in the other seat, waiting for me. Once ponytail closes the door, I realize that I’m really doing this. I’m really going home with this man.

  “Welcome,” he says. “Ready?”

  I nod. “I’m ready.”

  “It’s not a far drive. I live downtown.”

  “Really?”

  He nods as the driver pulls out. We head down Broad toward the center of the city. “It’s an old house. Well, six old houses. I bought them up and renovated them a few years ago.”

  “You live in... six houses?” I can’t help but laugh.

  “I know, it’s absurd. Too much space for just me. Truth is, I spend a lot of time in the office.”

  “Good thing I’m coming to stay with you,” I say, smiling. “Someone will finally give your house some use.”

  “That’s one benefit,” he says, grinning back. “Truth is, I have a full staff back at the house. They keep it all running without me. Plus, there’s Jenkins, and he lives there full time.”

  “Jenkins?” I ask.

  Ethan looks a little bashful, which is incredibly endearing on him. “Jenkins is my butler.”

  I laugh out loud, shaking my head. “You’re kidding?”

  “I’m not kidding,” he says, laughing along with me. “I really have a live-in butler named Jenkins.”

  “That’s the most cliché rich person thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “I know.” He grins and leans back in his seat. “It’s all status stuff. I don’t need Jenkins, but he does make my life easier.”

  “How so?”

  “Simple stuff,” he says. “Jenkins runs the household. Pays the bills, manages the staff, makes sure food is ready when I’m there, makes sure nothing is wasted. You’ll meet him soon.”

  I suddenly feel very, very nervous. We drive into a more residential area of town, one of the richest neighborhoods in the city. I’ve been here before, of course, but only while walking through. I live in the south part of the city, or at least I used to. Now I’m homeless, but I probably won’t tell him that.

  Nobody wants some homeless, ex-addict girl living in their house. I need to keep some things secret from Ethan, because otherwise I’m afraid he won’t like the truth.

  The car pulls up out front of a large beautiful building. It looks like an old brick row home, but it’s much wider, with many windows. It’s immaculately kept, which I assume is the work of Jenkins.

  “Home sweet home,” Ethan says, getting out of the car. He comes around and helps me out, even carrying my bags. He waves off the driver, tips him, and sends him off.

  The car speeds away and we walk up the stoop. Ethan hits a button on the buzzer, pauses a second, and then another buzzer sounds. He pushes open the door and we step inside.

  The entryway is beautiful. The floor is all h
ardwood, gleaming and immaculate. Modern art is hanging on the walls. There’s a stairwell to the right, a door to the left, and a French door to the right, next to the stairs.

  Ethan walks straight ahead and I hurry to follow him. I gape at everything we come across. The hall opens up into a large open space that’s obviously at least two townhouses wide. There’s an immaculately furnished living room area with a ceiling that goes up at least two stories. Back into the other townhouse, to the left is a large modern kitchen with beautiful appliances. I can’t help but stare all around me.

  I’ve never seen anything so nice in my whole life. I knew he was rich, or at least I knew it on some abstract level. But now that I’m seeing his actual objects and the house he lives in, I can really appreciate it.

  The place looks like a museum or a high-end hotel or something. It’s absolutely spotless and nothing is out of place. As we move into the kitchen and Ethan tosses his wallet and keys onto the counter, a door off to one side opens and a man steps out.

  “Jenkins,” Ethan says, smiling. “We have a guest.”

  “Do we, sir?”

  Jenkins is an older man, short and thin, maybe in his sixties. His white hair is slicked back but his crystal clear blue eyes are sharp and intelligent. He looks at me appraising, but he doesn’t smile.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say to him.

  “Charmed,” he responds without looking at me.

  “This is Aria. She’s going to be staying with us for the next month.”

  Jenkins pauses and I catch the slightest surprise on his face. “A month, sir?”

  “Yes, Jenkins,” Ethan says. “Please prepare the second room for her.”

  His surprise is even more evident. “The second room, sir?”

  “Am I speaking clearly?” Ethan looks at me, smiling.

  I just shrug, feeling too awkward to respond.

  He sighs and looks back at Jenkins. “Don’t give me a hard time, please.”

  “Of course not, sir.” He turns to leave.

  “And be nice to Aria, damnit!” he calls out as Jenkins disappears.

  “He doesn’t like me,” I say.

  “He’s just an old curmudgeon. Doesn’t like change.”