by Angela Blake
PROPOSITION
A Dark Billionaire Romance
By Angela Blake
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Jewels. Power. Billions. I’ll burn it all on her. If she’ll agree to my proposal.
I walk alone. Always have. I clawed my way into this billion-dollar life. I don’t owe anyone a damn thing. And no one is going to con me out of my money. Least of all a pretty face.
I’m out celebrating the deal of my life tonight. It’s pouring down. I see a figure on the street. Its cowering in the corner. Long hair. Face like a dream. A young beauty out on the streets. Exposed to the world.
I take her in. Why not. We both get what we want. She gets a roof over her head, a luxury apartment. And I get to have her any way I want. Those are the terms.
I call the shots. I make the rules. She wears what I say. She walks how I say. She f*cks how I say. I’m getting hard thinking of all the positions I’m going to put her in.
Extravagance, skyscrapers, the London city lights, my fortune. I’d share it all with her. If she’d agree to my proposition.
WARNING: This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. It may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults ONLY.
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Copyright 2017 by Angela Blake - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
Table of Contents
PROPOSITION
BONUS CONTENT
Bad News Bad Boy Collection
The Alpha Male Collection
PROPOSITION
George
It was a Friday night and, as usual, I was due to go out with my work colleagues after a hard day at work. This wasn’t just any day, however; my software company, which was already the talk of the technology world, had just signed a deal to put my software on almost every major mobile phone in the world. It was the kind of deal which meant I wouldn’t have to work another day in my life if I didn’t want to, but that wasn’t me. I was brought up in a low income household and knew the value of hard work. I was also learning how to enjoy my money, as I’d recently bought a luxury apartment overlooking the great city of London.
It was time to dress up for my night out in the way I always did, in smart jeans and a fairly plain top. I spent the whole of my week wearing a suit, so never wanted to for a night out. It was, as usual, finished off with a few sprays of my favorite aftershave. It was the same scent I’d used since I got my first office job as a teenager—I was a creature of habit and once I liked something, I just kept with it. The only difference now is that while before I was getting changed in my parents' small house, these days it was in front of my apartment window with the city beneath me, with its illuminated streets like arteries tracing their way into the city’s heart.
I made my way out of the building to make the walk into town. Something about walking through the old streets of London gave me a feeling of nostalgia, a romantic step into the past. I loved people-watching, observing. It was the beautiful symphony of life played out before you and I always wondered about the stories that each person had to tell. It was a much better time than spending it in the back of a taxi, having to be put through that tortured conversation. It was time to get some money out of the machine; I spent my money mostly by card, but the feeling of having a wallet full of cash always felt empowering.
As I turned away to continue my walk, I saw a figure in the distance crouched down, leant against the wall. It was one of the city’s many homeless—I rolled my eyes. I usually felt awkward and tonight was no different. I had enough money in my wallet to make this person’s month, but I’d rather walk on by. You can’t help everyone, right? This time, though, I made the classic mistake, what you must never do when you’re trying to avoid a homeless person: make eye contact.
This, however, was different. Usually I’d instantly turn my face away, but instead I was transfixed. I was expecting the face of a downbeat and dirty man to be looking back up at me, but instead it was a face so pretty that it almost felt like a dream. How could she be like this? How had she ended up here? Questions were running wild through my head.
Sophie
“Do you have any spare change?” I asked the handsome man. He had a confused look on his face, almost as if he was trying to work out if he recognized me. I hoped he didn’t.
He said nothing back, which was usual. You see many tricks adopted throughout the day by people walking by, the most common one for people to pretend they’d just received a message or a call, and that’s exactly what the man did. You could always tell the truth, though. I always tried to think to myself that they must be poor too, and have no spare change to give. It was naïve, I was naïve, but these streets were making me grow up fast.
I watched him as he walked on by down the road—he didn’t even bother keeping up the pretence of being on the phone, and placed it back in his pocket as soon as he had his back to me. I was sure he was going to have a fun night, but I certainly wasn’t.
I still didn’t know what I was meant to be doing. Each day was a struggle. The incumbent homeless seemed to have their own little community like it was an exclusive club, at least the ones I'd met. Some were helpful, but I felt like I didn’t belong. I suppose everyone must feel like that at the start.
I used to watch people go into the bars and clubs, spending their hard-earned money on expensive drinks and wishing I could be that carefree. In their fancy clothes, smelling delightful and looking their best . . . for the start of the night, at least. For the meantime I’d be just sitting here, hoping and waiting.
George
We’d made our way into a nearby strip club. It wasn’t the sort of place that I enjoyed too much, but I went along anyway. The time shortly came for private dances, but I declined. People-watching in a strip club was particularly enjoyable. I just enjoyed watching people a different way to everyone else in there. Men a lot less wealthy than me spending more money than they could afford on cheap thrills—I found it fascinating. I liked to pretend that I was above it all, but in truth I’d find a dance far too awkward and embarrassing.
Drink would help with that, but it was only the start of the night. My genius mind that helped take technology to the next level had its demons, which I tried to keep hidden. I felt awkward around new people and I was terrible at conversation. Thankfully for a man in my position, other people are more than willing to make the conversation. All I had to do was show my wealth and some gold-digger would soon approach. It was easy; the hard part was getting them to leave as soon as possible the morning after.
The anxiety and wealth were a dangerous combination, however, which left me somewhat bitter and loveless. The only way I could attract women was by showing off, and the type of girls who fell for that trick weren’t exactly the type that I wanted a long-lasting relationship with. I didn’t think I was bad-looking by any means, but girls expect to be approached and I could never do that. Well, sometimes I could, if alcohol was involved. I’d try and attract women without mentioning my bank balance, but that never usually worked.
It was usually at this
point of a night where I’d either show off my wealth or just straight up tell a girl how rich I was; if subtlety didn’t work, then I was happy to be blunt. Except this night I decided against it. The euphoria of a great week and the night had died away, and I was ready to go home before I got too drunk.
Just like the walk in, I liked the walk home too. This walk usually sobered me up a bit, but I hadn’t drunk too much and it wasn’t that late. The takeaway shops were filling up and the air was loud with drunk voices trying to talk over each other. It had started to rain, not heavily, but enough to be an annoyance. I considered getting a taxi, but thought I’d persevere with it. The cool rain on my face felt nice after the oppressive heat of the bars.
As I walked on I saw a figure in the distance, crouched down and leant against a wall. It was the same figure as before. I was slightly confused. Usually at this time the city’s homeless had drifted away to find shelter, especially when it was raining. As I approached there was no begging for change. There was just the figure curled up in a ball, quietly sobbing to herself.
I hesitated for a moment and then walked on. Then a sudden urge came over me to turn around. It was probably the alcohol still running through my veins that gave me the courage to talk. I approached her, cautiously.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “Are you okay there?”
The young girl uncurled herself from the ball to check it was her that was being spoken to.
“Me?” she said with her sweet voice.
I nodded my head, and once again I was taken aback by her beauty, this time at a closer glance. Her lips were pale, her skin white from the cold, hair tied back and her face untouched by make-up. But behind all that was one of the prettiest faces I had ever seen.
“Not really... no,” came the reply. It was a fairly stupid question with a fairly obvious answer.
I didn’t really know what to say after that, so instead I pulled out my wallet and gave her my remaining coins. I took a glance at my notes, but decided to keep them. I was no philanthropist and had never really learned the art of selflessness. As soon as I gave her the change, I turned my back and went to walk away, not knowing why I went to engage with her in the first place.
“Is there any way you could help me?” came her voice, desperate, stopping me before I could leave.
“Like what?” was my curt reply.
“I don’t know, I just don’t know what to do. I’m new to this.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you,” I said. My instant reaction was to always say no, and I turned away to go home. After once again travelling a few steps away, I couldn’t escape the gravity of this young girl’s beauty. If the first time I was stopped was because of curiosity, this time it was because of a sinister fantasy.
I turned around and the stricken girl looked up at me, waiting on my next words.
“I’ll give you a bed for the night if you fuck me,” I said, bluntly. I thought I might play the situation to my advantage and live out a risqué fantasy at the same time.
Sophie
I contemplated the idea for the moment, but there wasn’t much to think over. I’d found myself on the street without any knowledge of what to do, and here above me was a smartly dressed man who would give me some shelter for the night, for what I thought would be a few moments of his pleasure. I greeted the query with a simple “Okay” as I got up from the floor.
I was wearing sweatpants covered by an old coat, and flat shoes that were giving me no protection from the elements. It was a cold night, not freezing, but cold enough that I was going to be extremely uncomfortable through it.
I started walking and ambled by the side of this man, my head bowed and arms crossed. I was excited, scared and nervous at the same time. I didn’t know what to think.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Very,” I replied with a snorted kind of laugh, indicating that hungry was a bit of an understatement. I had hardly eaten for a week.
We stopped by a nearby burger place, ordered and sat down. It was a very surreal scene, a smartly dressed man accompanied by myself, who looked every bit like the homeless girl I was. I tried not to eat my food too quickly, but I was desperate for each bite.
“What’s your name?” he asked as we wrapped up our meal and exited the restaurant.
“Sophie,” I replied quietly. It felt odd giving personal details after the offer he just gave me. “What’s yours?”
“George.” His reply was a lot more confident than mine.
“I just couldn’t get it out of my head,” said George. “How does a girl as pretty as you end up on the streets, begging for change?”
I was closed. I didn’t want to be in this situation, selling my body for a roof over my head, but I was only here as it was a better option than sleeping out in the wet and cold. I was a girl of dignity who was a victim of circumstances out of my control. I just wanted to get this night over with and tackle the next day.
“I got kicked out of my house,” I said, though there was a lot more to it than that, but I didn’t exactly want to pour my heart out to a man that wanted to use my body for sex.
A taxi was driving past and he called for it. I couldn’t wait to get to the warmth of the building.
I still wasn’t in the mood for a conversation, but questions were ringing around my head. I had presumed I was being taken to a small studio apartment, but this was one of the city’s newest skyscrapers. Nothing about George’s appearance screamed immense wealth, and of course, neither did the fact that I’d encountered him twice walking the streets. He dressed in nice clothes, but there were many pretentious men in the city who liked to make it look like they had a great job.
I was quite bewildered, and wondering why such a man would pick up a girl from the street. So many thoughts were racing through my mind—this felt like a dangerous situation, but no less dangerous than spending a night out on the streets. I was desperate, and this seemed like the lesser of two evils.
While the building had the feel of luxury, as I walked in, I did wonder whether he was maybe renting one of the smaller apartments, or had the use of it by some other means. I felt so out of place, I had tried to keep myself as clean as possible on the streets, but there is only so much you can hide. Thankfully it was late and the only people around were security staff. They must have thought I was his tearaway sister or something. Hopefully they didn’t think the truth of the situation. I didn’t want to think about it myself.
Into the elevator, the conversation was non-existent. I had no idea what to say and it seemed like he no longer had an interest in speaking with me. The warmth of the building was starting to comfort me, no wind and no rain... it was the most comfortable I’d felt in a while. Well, physically; I was still feeling very mentally uncomfortable. This all seemed a bit too good to be true. It was not like this man looked like a creep—far from it. He was the type of guy I’d happily date under different circumstances.
My preconception that he’d be living in the worst apartment in the building was quickly blown away, just by how many floors we were going up.
“Nearly there,” he said with a smile. A quite charming smile, actually; for a moment I felt like I was coming back from an actual date. For a moment, I felt human. From that point, I decided that’s how I was going to treat the rest of the night, if he’d let me pretend like this was all perfectly normal and we were just a guy and a girl coming back from a date.
I wondered if he’d try a move in the elevator, but he stayed well away. He probably wasn’t interested in the current state I was in. As we ventured higher and higher, my mind wondered to just how nice this apartment was going to be. I was starting to get excited. As soon as we left the elevator George quickened the pace. He seemed to be in a hurry to get into his apartment as soon as possible—not because he wanted to fuck me as soon as possible, though, I just think he didn’t want anyone to see me.
As soon as I walked in I was blown away. It was luxurious, spacious, clean and contemporary
. I was expecting a bachelor pad of sorts, an untidy boys' den, but this was sleek and spotless. He must pay a cleaner, but still, I was impressed, especially when I delved deeper into his home. There was a panoramic window with a view over the centre of London, a view I had only ever seen in pictures. It was beautiful and could have sat there the whole night, watching the city beneath me. I was lost in my own little world for a moment.
“Your bedroom for the night is through here, and there is a shower with everything you need. Get yourself clean and I’ll see you in 20 minutes.”
That was music to my ears. I was still scared and nervous, but more pressingly my clothes were cold and damp. The flat was warm, but I couldn’t wait to have the warm water of the shower wash over me and then get myself dry. George walked me through into the room, where the bed faced out onto a window that went from floor to ceiling, without any blinds.
“Aren’t you worried about people seeing you get changed?” I asked. I didn’t know if I should be speaking, but I was curious.
“Ha, no,” George swiftly replied. “It’s a one-way view, people can’t see in. It does take a bit of getting used to.” I was slightly put at ease and slightly disappointed at the same time; it’s quite erotic to be seen.
George
I wasn't really sure what I was doing, as the alcohol was starting to wear off and I was already starting to regret offering her a place to stay. Ah well, she’s hot and will do anything that I ask. This could be a fun end to the night. I thought it might be hot to fuck her out on the streets, or in the elevator, but the musty smell of her clothes was too much of a turn off. A good wash was what she needed, to wipe the dirt from that beautiful face.
