by Shandi Boyes
Even a novice in this industry knows there are rules you can’t break. Touching something that doesn’t belong to you is at the top of the list. As much as this dweeb wishes it weren’t true, Roxanne isn’t his, and I’m more than happy to remind him of that.
“Shutdown surveillance before requesting Rocco to take Roxanne to my downstairs’ office.” Smith isn’t just shocked at my request, he’s pleased with it. The profiles of tonight’s guests would even make non-parents’ stomachs swirl. We have every combination you can think of. Millionaire tech giants, schoolteachers, politicians, doctors, and the absolute kicker, an OBGYN who was so eager to place a bid on Roxanne, he didn’t attempt to woo her with the coin he was willing to spend a night with her. He went straight to the hierarchies with an offer, the amount staggering.
My father would have accepted his offer in an instant. It was three times the amount the other bids received, and there were no added stipulations such as proof of her purity or that shipping costs be included in the sale of her virginity.
Dr. Bates’ eagerness won’t go over as easily with me. Nothing against Roxanne, she has the looks to set any man’s pulse racing and a body of pure dynamite, but in this industry, you only pay over the asking price for one reason—you’re not planning to follow the rules. Roxanne’s sale was touted as a virginity-only trade. There were no long-term commitments or talks of marriage. This was a one-night-only deal. So why the fuck is Dr. Bates offering a little over five hundred thousand dollars for the privilege?
His bid set alarms off in my head, but for once, instead of them ringing in warning, they’re sounding in victory. For months, I’ve constantly felt one step behind my enemies, but tonight is the first time I feel like we’ve raced ahead. Although we’ve been working toward this for months, I truly don’t believe it would have been achieved tonight without Roxanne’s help. She has the bidders eating out of her palm so readily, they divulged information to her the sternest torture wouldn’t have unearthed. She was handed business cards, blank checks, and keycards for permanently-booked suites in Manhattan. That’s a treasure trove of information that makes our guests tonight easy to trace, and it was handed to Roxanne quicker than Smith could run their faces through the database.
The shocked excitement on Smith’s face grows when I say, “Once I’ve shown our guests out, I don’t want to be interrupted for the rest of the night unless it’s urgent.” I should have said morning considering it’s well after two, alas, I am too tired to consider how stupid I’m acting.
I didn’t sleep a wink last night, so I’m not just tired, the whiskey I’ve been guzzling to dampen the fire in my gut is hitting me harder than usual. I’m half fucking tanked, but alcohol isn’t giving me the buzz I need. I need something more potent, more addictive. Something you can’t get artificially.
I need blood and warfare, and perhaps the heat of a woman’s cunt around my cock.
Aware Smith will follow my orders no matter how imprudent, I exit his computerized hub. While pacing through the party-like atmosphere which died remarkably quick since all the guests were chasing the same woman, I scan my eyes over the ones who barely got a once-over. My gaze usually sharpens on the redheads in the room, my favorable choice, but tonight, they seek a sultry blonde with a tiny waist and grassy green eyes that are more sinful than saintly.
When my eyes collide with a woman matching my requirements, she stumbles like she chugged down the fifth of whiskey warming my veins. Even with her focus seemingly on a man with ginger-red hair and a knockoff Tom Ford suit, she watches me cross the room. The heat of her watch is as stifling as it was before I joined Smith to assist with surveillance, and the exact reason I kept my distance the past six hours.
If I hadn’t stepped back, our ruse would have never had the effect it did. Not even men who pay are willing to look past undeniable chemistry. They would have mourned the missed opportunity for a few seconds before moving onto their next target.
I owe it to Fien not to let that happen.
That’s done and dusted now, though. Preferring to go home alone than with a woman not close to Roxanne’s league, the high-priority guests lodged their bids and left. Although they’ll still be scrutinized with the same fine-tooth comb as the more well-to-do guests, I don’t believe the stragglers have the gall to pull off the scam Rimi has been running the past two years. Kingpins don’t let their prospective playthings be wooed in front of them without incident. He’d control everything she does from the moment she registered on his radar, and perhaps mark her with his scent so every other man would get the hint to back the fuck up. He might even go as far as removing the fingers that touched her skin without his permission.
Roxanne’s virginity may have been on offer tonight, but her sale came with a heap of rules, the main one, she wasn’t to be touched. I don’t appreciate my directive being ignored, and will have no trouble relaying my annoyance in both physical and non-physical manners.
I don’t know which side of the coin Roxanne’s punishment will be on yet. With my cock as tight as my jaw, it may end up being a combination of both.
Don’t misconstrue. I’m not saying Roxanne should be punished because she was touched against her wishes. It’s the way she leans into her prospective purchasers’ side to keep her legs upright I’m frustrated about. Instead of letting her knees buckle out in response to the tension bristling between us, she accepts comfort from another man.
That is unacceptable.
Women like Roxanne don’t want to be nurtured like children. They want to be claimed like we’re still in the Stone Age, protected with the infamy of a madman, and fucked like possessiveness is the highest form of flattery.
They also want to be owned, and I’m about ready to stake my claim.
Chapter Thirty
Roxanne
Nerves tap dance in my stomach when the handle of a door that was locked earlier tonight slowly lowers. A man with so many distinguishable features, Smith unearthed his true identity faster than I could snap my fingers and attempted to guide me into this room earlier tonight. Timothy Jamison—a primary-school teacher if you can believe it—was so desperate to talk to me in private, he acted as if he could sidestep Rocco’s shadow as easily as Dimitri avoided my heated watch from across the room.
It was unfortunate for Timothy that Rocco didn’t cave as easily as Dimitri. I was only onto suitor number three when Dimitri made a beeline for the exit with clenched fists and a firm jaw. He raced out the room like his ass was on fire, and if you exclude him offering to show my final suitor the way out an hour ago, I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since.
I won’t lie. When the full extent of Dimitri’s ruse smacked into me while I was showering, I was fuming mad. I couldn’t believe he was undervaluing me as my father always had. Then I thought about it a little longer. For years, I wanted what every little girl wants—the love of her father. I did everything and anything to get it. I was the good girl who didn’t speak when told to be quiet, spoke politely when given a chance, and I always remembered my manners.
When common courtesies didn’t work, I gave the opposite a shot. I lashed out and got angry. I screamed at the top of my lungs. I became an exact replica of my father. And do you know what? It still didn’t work. No matter what I did, he didn’t give me the love I was seeking.
Even with the crazy world still being new to me, I’m confident in saying Dimitri’s daughter will never face the same issue. He hasn’t seen her in the flesh, yet he loves her so much, he constantly sets aside his needs for her. I doubt one thing he’s done the past two years has been for him. Every decision he makes is based on how it will affect Fien. He wouldn’t even breathe if it had a chance of negatively impacting her. That’s how much he loves her.
My decision to forgo tonight’s event was already teetering, but when I exited the bathroom, they fully imploded. The sketches I had worked on for hours on end weren’t where I left them. They were gone, replaced with an art lover’s vault of pencils, p
aints, sketchpads, and charcoals. The items covering every inch of the desk in Dimitri’s room couldn’t have been gathered on the fly. Some of them can’t be picked up at any store. Whoever purchased them for me went out of their way to do so.
My gut wanted to believe Rocco is as generous as he is stirring, but my heart refused to consider it for even a moment. It knew my gifts were from Dimitri, just like he knew I was going to participate in his ruse even if it came with a risk I wouldn’t come out of it unscathed. Fien deserves the chance to experience a father’s love as I never have. If I help her achieve that, perhaps my own failure won’t feel so horrific.
I jump up from the couch like an obedient lapdog when Dimitri enters the large office in the lower half of his compound. Although the well-decorated space is shrouded in blackness, I know who he is. Not only have my eyes adjusted to the dark, his scent is highly distinguishable as is his suffocating aura.
It chokes the air of oxygen even more when he barks out, “You did good tonight, Roxanne. The bidders’ eagerness to woo you had them spilling secrets left, right, and center.” Air whizzes out of his nose. “But you also did bad. What was the first rule Smith told you tonight?”
The nerves twisting in my stomach are heard in my reply, “That I wasn’t to touch anyone.” I’m not worried I broke the rules. Just remembering the men were here to buy my virginity assured my hands wouldn’t get close to them. I’m petrified I haven’t given Dimitri a reason to punish me. His punishment would have been far more pleasurable than painful.
When Dimitri slants his head, the light outside the hall unshadows half his ridiculously handsome face. “And what did you do?” I’m about to answer, kept my hands to myself, but he continues talking, foiling my chance. “You touched.”
I almost shake my head until I realize it isn’t anger pumping out of Dimitri. It’s jealousy.
A one-way ticket to hell drops into my inbox when I mumble, “I didn’t mean to. I find it hard to communicate without my hands.”
I anticipate for him to call me out as the liar I am, so you can imagine my shock when he commences pacing to a big wooden desk in the corner of the room. His arrogant walk wasn’t dissuaded from the seediness of tonight’s undertakings. It’s as cocky as ever, and it has my pulse racing.
Once Dimitri has the starchy material of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, he strays his eyes to mine. They are as brutally beautiful as ever. “Remove your dress and bra. You can keep your panties…” His lips curve to his infamous half-smirk before he adds, “… for now.”
I almost double back, stunned he’s gone straight for my jugular. I’m not comfortable being naked, but the collision of our eyes alters the direction of my course in an instant. Just like when he commanded me to remove his shirt earlier tonight, his steely blue eyes expose this is another test.
Although I hate that he’s forever testing me, only days ago, I decided that failure will no longer be associated with my name. So, with that in mind, I raise my shaky hands to the neckline of my dress to undo the first button.
The first four buttons come away without too much drama. The same can’t be said for the final few. The heat teeming out of Dimitri is too much. It has me torn between wanting to fall to my knees and beg forgiveness for my lie and marching across the room to soak up every blister of his scold. I’d rather he not be angry, but I also prefer his jealous fury over no emotional response whatsoever.
Once my bra is sitting on top of my dress, I raise my eyes to Dimitri’s. Not even the dark can take away from their allure. They’re icy pools of seduction.
My already brisk heart rate breaks into a canter when he jerks his chin up. “Come here.”
I pace across the room, my strides so shaky, you’d swear I was wearing heels instead of flats. Alice’s choice of wardrobe nearly made it impossible to validate my father’s claims I’m a virgin. If it weren’t for Smith suggesting that I ask Dimitri’s housemaids for help, I may have still been in my room, sewing together four skimpy outfits with the hope of making one modest one.
Smith’s unexpected assistance scared the crap out of me, however it also assured me I wasn’t going into tonight blind. I had eyes on me—many of them—including the pair gawking at me now.
After sitting in his fat leather chair, Dimitri pushes it away from his desk. “Sit.”
I want to crawl into a ball and die when my attempt to straddle his lap has the faintest of chuckles ringing in my ears. This is more horrifying than I could ever explain and has me suddenly knowledgeable about why I’ve only ever dated men who thought they could milk my loins of their nectar.
“Ass on my desk.” When Dimitri lifts and locks his eyes with mine, the lust in them reveals my embarrassment is unwarranted. He isn’t chuckling because he thinks I’m an idiot. He’s pleased I am as naïve as his guests tonight hoped. “Legs opened wide.”
Through quaking, breathless lungs, I do as requested, confident Dimitri is too possessive to let anyone see me in a vulnerable state. I like when he watched me climax in the alleyway many months ago, but that doesn’t mean I’m open to a free for all.
After planting my backside on the edge of his desk, I part my thighs in an unladylike manner.
“More.”
My thighs are stretched to the width of Dimitri’s large frame when he scoots his chair back in close to his desk.
“Keep them there.”
It’s virtually impossible to follow his clipped command when he runs the back of his hand down my lace panties. Since I couldn’t morally borrow underwear, I had no choice but to don one of the many risqué thongs Alice added to my collection. They leave nothing to the imagination, which means I feel every delicious callous on Dimitri’s newly-battered hand.
“How much?” Dimitri strains his words through the jealousy clutching his throat. I know this as his voice has the same gravelly deliverance mine had when several women approached him at the start of tonight’s event. They didn’t have the eyes of any of the men wanting to get to know me. They didn’t care. They had their target locked, and they weren’t going to stop until they had him. “How much was the highest bid you received tonight?”
Even aware he knows the answer since Smith recited each offer to him as they were received, I say, “One hundred and eighty-three thousand dollars.”
My thighs press together when his low growl races lust through my womb like a wildfire. It has my knees curving inward even faster than it has his face sitting within an inch of my aching sex. “Then why aren’t your panties soaked through with the scent I can smell building in your clenching cunt? Weren’t you turned on knowing how much men we’re willing to pay to spend one night with you?”
While fighting my hips not to gyrate toward his mouth, I shake my head. They could have offered me ten times as much, and I wouldn’t have been flattered. Money shouldn’t enter the equation in exchanges like this. Hell, right now, I’m not even sure love should. It’s all about lust and chemistry so blistering, even if it fizzles out as quickly as it ignites, it deserves to be explored. Ignoring something this sweltering should be criminal.
When I say that to Dimitri, he runs his hand down my panties for the second time. His fingers don’t make it through the carnage unscathed this time around. The wetness glistening on them is as noticeable as the fiery glint darting through his eyes. I’m soaked in an instant, and it has Dimitri paying more attention to me than he did my final suitor when he kissed my cheek goodnight. He looked seconds from killing him, although it has nothing on the urge masking his face now.
“Some of the bids tonight were the highest I’ve ever seen.” I lose the ability to breathe when he mutters, “Yet here you are, sitting on my desk, getting wet over my briefest touch.”
After switching on the lamp on his desk, he scoots in so close, nothing but his next breath is on my mind. They batter my aching sex with so much heat, my delirious head has me confusing them as excited breaths instead of angry ones. I’ve never been more turned on and terrifie
d in my life.
I’m not scared of him. I’m terrified he’ll never touch me like I’m silently begging him to. The amounts thrown around tonight were impressive. If my esteem was as low as my father aimed for it to be, I may have considered their offers to fund my studies. Alas, even with him wrongly believing I’m to blame for his daughter’s captivity, my body yearns for only one man.
I begin to wonder if Dimitri has mindreading capabilities when he says, “You could have your choice of any man, but that isn’t what you want, is it, Roxanne? You don’t want a man. You want a monster, a bastard, a man who’d rather destroy you than ever have you believe you deserve more than him.”
His usually icy eyes switch to the color of a bottomless ocean when I shake my head. “You’re not a monster, Dimitri. You’re angry and confused, and oh-so-fucking tired, but you’re not a monster.”
The air that whizzes out of his nose sends my senses into overdrive. “I allowed men to bid on your virginity after beating a man for doing the same thing.”
His underhanded confession about hurting my father should dampen the intensity brewing between us. it doesn’t. Not in the slightest. If anything, it doubles it. “You may have let them bid for me, but you never had any intention to let them cash in their bids.” He’s too possessive for that, too neurotic, but since that confession could possibly knock our exchange back a few spots, I keep my mouth shut.
It’s for the best. I can barely breathe when he slips my panties to the side. When my pussy is awarded the heat of his breaths without hindrance, the dampness his fingers briefly felt moments ago jumps to saturated. His thorough inspection of my private parts should make me feel vulnerable, whereas all I’m feeling is wanted. My prospective buyers peered at me with the same hungry, wanton eyes, but not once did their gawks have the edge Dimitri’s does now. He stares at me as he did in the alleyway a year ago, his watch so needy, if he can’t get past his neurosis that he shouldn’t touch me, I’m willing to pick up the slack on his behalf.
