Hers to Keep (Irresistibly Bound Book 3)

by Anna Stone

  Hers to Keep

  Anna Stone

  © 2019 Anna Stone

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be replicated, reproduced, or redistributed in any form without the prior written consent of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by Kasmit Covers

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Also by Anna Stone

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “Lindsey,” Mr. Grant said. “Can I see you in my office?”

  “Sure.” Lindsey removed her headset and got up from her desk.

  She followed her boss through the call center. It was a honeycomb of identical cubicles, all with the exact same desk, computer, and phone. The walls were painted green, no doubt in an attempt to make everyone forget they were cooped up in a tiny, windowless office for eight hours a day. But the paint had faded to a pale, sickly color, which made it even more depressing.

  Lindsey sighed. How had she ended up here? All her life, she’d had such big plans. She was going to be a renowned artist, whose works were displayed in galleries all over the world. She was going to travel to exotic places, and have a string of passionate love affairs before meeting the man of her dreams in some tiny European town. And they’d fall in love and live the rest of their lives in a villa in the countryside.

  Then Lindsey had grown up. Well, the world had forced her to grow up.

  They reached Mr. Grant’s office. Lindsey sat down on the stiff plastic chair in front of his desk.

  “I think you know what this is about, Lindsey.” Mr. Grant tented his fingers in front of his chest. “Your numbers have been slipping lately.”

  His voice rang with concern, but just like everything else in this place, it was false. Everyone pretended to give a crap, when really, all they cared about was a paycheck. Lindsey saw through it because she feigned the same enthusiasm around her coworkers and the potential customers she called. She was surprisingly good at this job, at selling lies and convincing unsuspecting retirees to sign up for overpriced insurance. Lindsey didn’t like what that said about her.

  “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Mr. Grant asked.

  “It’s nothing,” Lindsey said. “I’m just having an off week.”

  “It’s not just this week, Lindsey. Your performance has been steadily dropping for a while now.” He leaned back in his chair. “Do you still want this job?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Lindsey didn’t want it. She needed it. She should have been grateful to have a job at all, let alone one that paid this well. Half her art school classmates were working at Starbucks. Plus, she’d been in a car accident almost a year ago that had left her with a steep medical bill. A few years working at Prime Life Insurance, and she could make a serious dent in her debt.

  But the idea of doing this for a few years was soul-crushing.

  “You know how it works,” her boss said. “We have quotas to meet both individually and as a team. You need to pick things up.”

  “I know,” Lindsey said. “I’ll work harder, Mr. Grant.”

  “Good.” He gave her a wide smile that looked more like a grimace. “Why don’t you get back to work? I want to see that fresh-faced, energetic employee you were when you started here.”

  Lindsey left her boss’s office and returned to her cubicle. She slid her headset back on and brought up a list of names and phone numbers on her monitor.

  As she stared at the screen, all the numbers seemed to blur together. Her dreams seemed more out of reach than ever. She was never going to pay off all this debt, let alone make it to Europe. At age 23, she still hadn’t fallen in love. And her sketchbook was at the bottom of a box somewhere, untouched since she finished art school.

  Lindsey opened her desk drawer and glanced at the phone inside it. She had a message. The office had a strict ‘no cell phones’ policy, but she didn’t care. Looking behind her to make sure no one was around, Lindsey picked up her phone and read the message. It was from her friend Faith.

  Do you have plans tonight?

  Just grabbing the last of my stuff from my old apartment, then I’ll be right over, Lindsey sent back.

  Lindsey’s apartment building had been shut down for the foreseeable future because of a dangerous black mold infestation. For now, she was sleeping on Faith’s couch. With the housing market in the city as competitive as it was, Lindsey was struggling to find a place within her budget. She wasn’t exactly broke, but money was tight.

  Faith’s reply came through. Great! We’re going to celebrate the fact that we’re roommates again.

  Lindsey grinned. She and Faith had lived together during art school. They’d had plenty of fun together. Not to mention that they’d gotten up to plenty of trouble.

  Lindsey looked up from her phone and glanced toward Mr. Grant’s office. He was standing by the window, staring straight at her.

  Crap. Lindsey stashed her phone in her drawer. She’d better get back to work. She dialed the next phone number on her list.

  “This is Lindsey from Prime Life Insurance. How are you today?”

  Lindsey fished the spare key to Faith’s apartment out of her handbag and unlocked the front door. She dragged her suitcase inside. “Faith? I’m here.”

  There was no answer, but Lindsey could hear the shower running. She walked into the living room, set her suitcase down, and eyed the old, gray couch that was now her bed. Lindsey had crashed on it several times before. At the very least, it wasn’t too uncomfortable. And Faith sometimes stayed overnight with the family she worked for as a nanny, so she’d given Lindsey permission to sleep in her bed when she wasn’t coming home for the night.

  Lindsey opened her suitcase and rummaged through her clothes. She wanted to change out of her stifling work outfit, but she had no idea what Faith’s plans for the two of them involved. Lindsey hoped it was nothing too crazy. It had been a long week, and she was feeling drained.

  Faith entered the living room, dressed in sweatpants and a tee, her dark curly hair tied back in a messy bun. She flopped down onto the couch. “All moved in?”

  “Yep.” Lindsey sat down next to her. “Thanks again for letting me stay with you. I promise I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

  “Take your time,” Faith said. “It’ll be fun to be roommates again. It’ll be just like old times.”

  “I’ll try not to cramp your style when you bring guys home. Or girls.”

  “I’ve given up on guys. Girls are much more fun.”

  “It must be nice to have that choice,” Lindsey said. Faith’s sexuality, according to her, was that she ‘liked pe
ople’ and that was that. She never bothered to put a label on it. Lindsey envied that about Faith. She always seemed so self-assured.

  Lindsey looked Faith up and down. “What’s with the sweatpants? I thought we had plans tonight?”

  “We do,” Faith replied. “We’re staying in and doing what we used to do on Friday nights when we lived together.”

  “You’re not serious, are you?”

  Faith nodded. “There’s some fruit and a bottle of vodka on the kitchen counter. I bought the cheapest bottle I could find. We’re making punch and staying up all night.”

  Lindsey didn’t know whether to smile or groan. It had been a long time since they’d gotten drunk together, and for a good reason. It usually ended in disaster. But wasn’t Lindsey just thinking about how boring her life was? Maybe a little excitement was just what she needed.

  “Okay,” Lindsey said. “Let’s do it. But we’re ordering dinner first. We don’t want a repeat of the first time we did this.” That night, they’d both learned the hard way why drinking on an empty stomach was not a good idea.

  “Sure,” Faith said. “There’s this amazing Thai place a few blocks away. And they deliver. Dinner first, then punch. I’ll order food, while you get started in the kitchen.”

  “Deal.”

  Lindsey got up and went into the kitchen, tying up her long auburn hair on the way. She began to gather the ingredients for their signature alcoholic punch. She and Faith had come up with the recipe in their freshman year. The two of them had been this wild, inseparable pair in college, and their punch recipe had been responsible for more than one crazy night. Since then, they’d outgrown partying, but Faith still retained some of that free-spiritedness. It was another thing Lindsey envied about her. No matter what life threw at her, she seemed to take it in her stride.

  An hour and a half later, they were sprawled out over the couch, the coffee table littered with empty takeout boxes. They had started drinking while waiting for the food to arrive, and Lindsey was starting to feel it.

  Faith refilled her glass, then looked at Lindsey’s empty one. “Want some more?”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to get me drunk,” Lindsey said. It was already too late for that.

  “I just want to see you have some fun,” Faith said, drawing out her words like she always did after a few drinks. “You’ve been so mopey lately.”

  “Yeah, well everything sucks right now.”

  “What’s the matter?” Faith asked. “Other than getting kicked out of your moldy apartment, that is.”

  “It’s mostly work. Spending forty hours a week stuck in a cubicle trying to sell people something they don’t need? It’s so soul-destroying.”

  “Why don’t you find another job?” Faith asked. “Something you actually like?”

  “I wish I could. I don’t have any real skills.”

  “You were one of the best artists in our class. I think it’s safe to say you’ve got skills.”

  “Fine, I don’t have any useful skills,” Lindsey said. “Art doesn’t pay the bills. Not unless you’re some combination of brilliant and extremely lucky.”

  “You could try nannying. It wasn’t what I thought I’d be doing after college either, but it’s fun. And you can make lots of money once you have some experience.”

  “I’m not good with kids. I wouldn’t know what to do.”

  Faith pursed her lips in thought. “There are other ways to make money, you know.” She lowered her voice. “Ways other than jobs.”

  Lindsey sat upright. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s probably easier if I show you.” Faith stood up. “I’m going to go grab my laptop. I’ll be right back.” She headed to her bedroom, swaying as she walked.

  Lindsey stared at the pitcher on the table. She’d already had far too much to drink. But she was tired of being a responsible adult. She was tired of constantly worrying about work, and money, and debt. All she wanted was to pretend that she was still the carefree young woman she’d been just a year or two ago.

  And most of all, she wanted to forget about the fact that she was now living a life that would have made her younger self so disappointed in her.

  Lindsey refilled her glass and started gulping her drink down. Just as she finished it off, Faith returned to the living room and sat down next to her.

  “I should warn you,” Faith said, typing a web address into her browser. “This is a little unconventional.”

  “I don’t care,” Lindsey said. “Show me.”

  That was where her memory of that night ended.

  Chapter Two

  After a long day at work, Lindsey returned to Faith’s apartment. She’d stayed back late for yet another meeting with her boss about her performance. It hadn’t improved. Lindsey couldn’t help but wonder if she was subconsciously sabotaging herself so that she’d be fired.

  She sat down on the couch. She could worry about that tomorrow. Lindsey grabbed her laptop from the coffee table and opened it up. Some mindless TV was just what she needed. Lindsey found a show she was midway through binge-watching and pressed play.

  Her phone buzzed. A message from Faith, telling Lindsey that she was at the grocery store and would be home soon. Lindsey flicked through her phone, only half watching the show playing on her laptop screen. Her email inbox was full of unread messages. She scrolled through them, deleting most of the emails without opening them.

  A particular email caught her eye. The subject line read:

  Welcome to thesugarbowl.com.

  That had to be spam. But the name of the website jogged something in Lindsey’s memory. She opened the email.

  Congratulations. Your application to join The Sugar Bowl has been accepted. Click here to view your profile.

  What was this? Lindsey didn’t remember signing up for anything like it. She clicked the link. It took her to a profile page on what looked like a dating website. Her profile page, complete with photos.

  And underneath her profile picture were the words “Sugar Baby looking for arrangement.”

  What the hell? Suddenly, snippets of Friday night started coming back to her. Lindsey groaned. She’d been right in thinking that getting drunk with Faith could only lead to disaster. Lindsey still didn’t remember the details, but maybe her friend did. She dialed Faith’s number.

  Faith answered in her usual cheery voice. “What’s up, Lindsey?”

  “Why am I signed up for a sugar baby website?” Lindsey asked.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot all about that. Does this mean you got accepted?”

  “Apparently. But I don’t remember any of this.”

  “Nothing?” Faith asked. “Wow. Well, you did drink a lot. But you seemed really keen on the idea at the time. All I did was help you set up your profile.”

  Lindsey shook her head. “This is crazy. I should just delete my profile.”

  “What? You can’t! That website is really hard to get onto, especially if you’re a woman. There are just too many women who want to be sugar babies. Plus, they screen everyone really carefully.”

  “How do you even know all this?” Lindsey asked.

  “That friend of mine from freshman year?” Faith said. “I guess you don’t remember that conversation either?”

  “Nope.”

  “Look, I have to go, but I’ll be home in ten minutes. We can talk about this then. Whatever you do, do not delete your profile.”

  “Fine,” Lindsey said.

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  Lindsey hung up and placed her phone down. She would humor her friend. She wasn’t actually considering becoming a sugar baby. Although, she only had a basic idea of what being a sugar baby involved. And it couldn’t hurt to have a look at the website. To take a peek at this world of money, and glamour, and romance.

  Abandoning her TV show, Lindsey opened up the Sugar Bowl website on her laptop and logged into her profile. A few pictures of her from social media were at the top, and all he
r information, from her age to her height, was listed underneath. She’d written a short biography too. Lindsey had to admit, she and Faith had done a good job. The profile made Lindsey sound much more interesting than she was in real life. And much more alluring.

  There was a red envelope symbol at the top of the screen with the number 23 written next to it. Did Lindsey have 23 messages already? She opened up her inbox and went through the messages one by one.

  The first was from a man who listed himself as forty, but he was clearly at least sixty. And his message? It was polite and respectful at first, but then he openly admitted to having a wife and said he was looking for someone ‘discreet.’

  Lindsey shuddered and moved on to the next message. It was much the same, minus the wife. But it was loaded with hints about the man’s sexual prowess. No thanks.

  The rest of the messages were no better. Several of the men were just looking for sex. A few of them seemed genuine, but they were all old enough to be her grandfather.

  Finally, she reached the last message. It was from someone named Camilla.

  A woman? Lindsey tapped the thumbnail to view Camilla’s profile. There was only one photo of her. It showed a gorgeous long-haired brunette with an inviting smile, bright hazel eyes, and an air of unwavering confidence that Lindsey could feel through the screen.

  Lindsey scanned Camilla’s profile. She was 39 years old, and her biography was concise and detailed. She was a businesswoman, who liked wine, architecture, and art. And nothing on her profile suggested she was after sex.