Chapter 6

Mia

“I messed up his room,” I murmured to myself. I glanced at that king-size bed with the expensive duvet cover of grayish blue and black and felt a delicious shiver pass down my spine. Then I turned my attention to the floor. I sighed and proceeded to find a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that were still intact. No such luck, of course.

I was midway through pulling my ripped T-shirt on when three knocks came at the door. I quickly pulled the rest of the thin gray material down my body and said, “Come in.”

The door cracked open, and Ms. Lane silently entered. She stood straight as she faced me, her hands clasped before her as she addressed me. “Are you ready to see Mr. Maxwell?”

If wearing ripped jeans and a shirt without a bra—because that very last one lying on the floor was torn beyond repair and unwearable—was ready, then yes, I was as ready as I could be to face the billionaire my brother owed two million dollars, the man who’d seen me with my naked backside in the air.

I murmured, “Yes,” followed by a nod of my head.

“Follow me,” she said and turned on her heel, expecting me to trail her like she expected a lower staff member to obey her order to perfection.

The moment Ms. Lane knocked and then opened a door, my heart skipped a beat. When she stepped aside to let me in, I hesitated. I was suddenly shaking, and I knew I had to get a grip on myself. This was what I was here for. To negotiate for my brother’s release.

I took a deep breath when Ms. Lane nudged me to hurry up by saying, “He’s waiting.”

Before my nerves got any worse, I took a step in and then another.

Standing before me was the gorgeous Mr. J. Maxwell. He had his arms folded across his chest and his backside resting slightly on the edge of the desk. He looked relaxed and casual, but the very sight of him took my breath away. It annoyed me that he should have such a strong, inexplicably powerful impression on me.

The moment my eyes met his, a gasp escaped my lips. I felt uncomfortable and was very aware my breasts and nipples were jutting out against the thin material of my ripped shirt. I really did hope he didn’t notice.

“Sit,” he said, nodding at the chair before him.

I hesitantly did as he commanded.

Yes, there was nothing else in his tone but authority. He had that aura within him, that self-confidence that had the power to take charge, shout out orders, and give commands. Indeed, people would listen and follow his every word. Even the little beast named Alfie was quiet on the other side of the room, snuggling cozily as it watched me with its beady eyes.

I gazed up at him, not knowing how to proceed.

Yes, he’d requested—No!—demanded I be presented here before him, along with his expected two million. Well, all I had was three hundred dollars.

He leaned forward and began. “I was expecting someone much older.”

“I’m twenty-two,” I said sternly. “I’m old enough. Where’s my brother?”

He ignored my demanding question. “Your father allowed you to come here knowing my reputation?”

Reputation?

I knew nothing of his reputation. His rhetorical question, however, planted a seed of apprehension within my mind. Of course I’d dreaded coming here and facing him about the two million dollars. But now that he mentioned his reputation, I wondered if I’d be able to walk out of here alive.

However, the sudden change in subject got me angry. This showed in my voice, which was trembling, along with my pissed-off face, red and stern.

“My father died eleven years ago in a car accident, along with my mother. The only person Andy has is me, his older sister.”

He raised a brow at me, as if he found my tragic backstory rather bland and uninteresting, like he’d heard that particular story a hundred times before. I’ll admit it was rather a common backstory, but when it happens to you, when every possible shitty thing you could imagine got thrown at you, then it wasn’t so common anymore.

“Where’s my brother?” I asked again, trying very hard to calm myself, trying hard not to jump to the conclusion that this Mr. J. Maxwell had already executed Andy with a bullet to my baby brother’s handsome head.

He looked at me long and hard. “I applaud your brother and his friends, Ms. Donovan,” he said, easing his arms from their crossed position and resting them casually on the edge of the desk. “They’ve managed to cheat two million out of me.” He leaned forward, his eyes sharp, his face so close to me that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, which both pleased and unsettled me at the same time. “And trust me. I rarely allow anyone to cheat me.”

He flashed a dark smile that made me want to run and hide and at the same time made me want to kiss him. It was a stupid desire, of course, and I’d never felt like that toward any man before. I felt like I actually wanted to throw myself at him and let him do exquisite, unspeakable things to me. Things that were frowned upon. Things people didn’t talk about outside the bedroom. Things a virgin like me had never experienced.

“So?” he asked softly, drifting his eyes slowly to my breasts and then back to my face. “What will you do? You look like a resourceful young woman.”

He flashed a grin at me that would have made any woman spread her legs wide for him. Not me. It made me want to punch the smirk off his face, because he was implying something that hurt my pride.

He continued. “You’re here to negotiate for your brother’s release. Then let’s do it. The closing date is Friday this week, Ms. Donovan. Two million cash. I get my money; you get your brother back.”

I was so tense; when he suddenly touched my cheek, I jumped in my seat.

“What if I don’t…don’t get the two million?” And in my mind, I shouted, How the heck do I get two million? There was no way that was possible. I get paid minimum wage, and I worked seven days a week to make ends meet. So how the heck would I be able to make two million in two days?

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a way, Ms. Donovan,” he said, drifting his eyes from my face to my breasts again, his fingers caressing my cheek.

Heat rushed to my face as the meaning of his words drummed deep into my mind.

“I don’t fuck men for money!” I said through gritted teeth.

I’d never used the word fuck in the open before. I reserved that severely execrable word for dire situations, but he left me no choice. His assumption of my character pissed me off, and I couldn’t control myself.

Oh, I could have kept my mouth shut like always, allowing everyone to bully and harass me, giving everyone permission to walk all over me, because that was what my aunt and uncle told me good girls do.

My so-called friends in high school, who were no longer my friends, thought I could never fit in because I was too shy and quiet and didn’t know how to dress right. They felt the need to remind me of my shortcomings whenever they thought I deserved it. My aunt and uncle thought I was willful, wild, and stupid, and I wouldn’t amount to anything. They told me they’d done their best with me, teaching me and conforming me to be proper like them by slapping me and whipping me with a belt whenever they thought I needed the discipline.

Get your head out of the clouds and stop wasting your money and time reading those useless books, they’d always told me.

But those wonderful books had gotten me out of the real, harsh world. They had kept me sane and made me happy, at least for a few hours.

Then there was my boss, of course, who thought I was a worthless employee and condemned me to do all the dirty jobs, never missing an opportunity to criticize the small details. My colleagues kept bickering and backstabbing me when they were the ones who got the better pay by doing less. In the past few years, the harassment and bullying had gotten worse, especially at work, and I’d decided it was enough. I didn’t want anyone to walk all over me anymore. So I’d learned how to stand up for myself, to talk back, speak out, and demand attention.

Thus, to not speak what was on my mind now would certainly tell this Mr. J. Maxwell I was timid and juvenile, as he had so assumed my character to be and, hence, concluded I was incapable of finding him the two million dollars. Heck, I knew in my gut I couldn’t find two million in a short two days, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction that his postulation of me was right.

“Is that all you rich assholes ever think of? Throwing your damn money on whatever you deem attainable? Whatever you think has a price tag?”

I knew I was stepping on shaky ground, but I couldn’t help myself. I had no idea how one dealt with a billionaire like this Mr. J. Maxwell. I knew suddenly and with trepidation, however, that I was doing it wrong the moment I saw the dark look in his eyes and the stern expression on his handsome features.

I tensed, waiting for his aggressive reaction to come. Shit! I knew he’d either slap me or call his security guards and let them bash me good while he watched, with enjoyment of course. That was what these billionaires did, right? I saw it in movies. Because they could get away with anything.

When I saw him narrowing his eyes at me and a slight sneer appear about his lips, I knew I didn’t have to wait long to see my imagination unfold before my eyes.

“Well, do you have a price tag, Ms. Donovan?” he said chillingly softly. “Everybody does.”

His words stung, but I didn’t have time to think of a reply before, at lighting speed, his face was right in front of me and his hand was wrapped around the back of my head.

I gasped at his firm hold on me, knowing suddenly I was imprisoned in his arms and I wouldn’t be able to run away. Then I felt the heat of his lips crushed against mine.

I panicked, and in the back of my mind, I knew even if he were to do what I feared most and take me without my permission, and I screamed, no one would help me. Even so, I tried my best to push him back, but the feel of his warmth and his lips against mine was wonderfully intoxicating.

He traced his hot tongue across my lips, causing an exquisite pleasure to soar through my whole body. Then he somehow managed to expertly slip his skilled tongue into my mouth and invade me. I shuddered deliciously. A groan escaped my throat as he stroked and caressed his tongue against mine, playing a small battle with me. I became breathless, and my body squirmed in a frenzy of heated pleasure. At the same time, however, I was actually fighting him to release me, my puny fist shoving at his massive chest, which was, of course, to no avail.

Oh God! Oh God! I was being ravished by a hot billionaire, and I was turned on. My body, weak and frantic and quivering, responded to his intense kiss, even though my head screamed for me to get ahold of myself as he continued to enrapture me.

When he finally moved back, I was heaving and breathless, my whole body shaking. My heart was pumping so fast and so loud within my chest that I was sure he, too, could hear the noise. My head felt light and just a little bit dizzy.

He still had his hand wrapped behind my head as I stared up at him, panting, my breasts rising and falling, my lips red and sore from his wonderfully brutal treatment. He didn’t at all look as though he was affected by the kiss. His breathing was even, though his eyes were darker, with a blue fire like I’d seen when I was naked and met his gaze in his bedroom only a short time ago.

He was stroking my lower lip now. I wanted him to stop because it was dully aching, yet I wanted him to continue.

“Are you a virgin?”

The question took me by surprise, and I shoved his hand away from me.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked. “What the heck if I am? Is it a crime to be a virgin at twenty-two?” I stood, shoving the chair back in the process.

If there were any certainty at all, I’d be a virgin for the rest of my life, because I knew I wasn’t going to settle down with just any man. Then again, I’d also been certain I was never going to let any man kiss me either, unless he was the right one—that gentle, caring man who loved me to my bones, like the way Dad had loved Mom, like the way Dad had cherished Mom.

This man—this Mr. J. Maxwell—was nothing like that. He was arrogant and brutal, and what happened a moment ago had changed the fact that I’d never been kissed.

My head held high, I said haughtily, “Trust me. I’ll get that two million by Friday. Somehow, someway.”

Turning on my heel, I headed to the door.

“Two million. Five years.”

My legs halted, and I turned to look at the handsome man, who’d just given me the most amazing kiss.

“Excuse me?”

He moved just a little, easing his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Two million. Five years. It’s a contract.”

I stared at him, long and hard, my heart pumping loud and fast within my chest. “What contract?”

“The one I’m offering you.” He cocked his head to one side as he gazed at me. “Interested?”

I hesitated.

Two million. Five years. For me? For Andy’s freedom?

I narrowed my eyes and said slowly, “What type of work are you offering me?”

A slight smile formed to one side of his mouth, and I knew. “You’re a fucking bastard!”

Tears started brewing in my eyes and hurt within my heart, I reached for the door handle.

Sick! Just plain sick!

I cracked the door open and was about to run off, when I felt myself being pulled by the arm and spun round. Dizzy and breathless at the sudden reorientation, I gazed at the broad chest before me as the door clicked shut and my back was thrust against it.

My eyes drifted up to the stern face above me, and before I could gasp at the raw fire I saw within those Prussian-blue eyes, firm lips crushed against mine as I felt warm fingers dig deep into my hair.

I whimpered as he kissed me long and hard, thrusting his tongue against mine, stroking and caressing and licking and playing, making me breathless and squirm with a sense of hunger for more. I was gone. My head swam in this deep pool of sensation, and my being floated in midair, surrounded with his warm aura.

His hand moved down to my breast and cupped it, feeling the soft flesh against the thin material of my T-shirt. I gasped and groaned in response, and my breasts became hard and engorged, sensitive at the slightest touch.

When he thrust his muscular thigh between the softness of my legs, my core burned and twisted, crying out its need to be filled with him. It was the moment that brought me back to reality.

I shook my head as I tried to shove him off me. He retaliated by increasing the firmness of his grip. When I tried even harder, he had one hand at the small of my back and hoisted me up until I was riding his thigh. I freaked out because the action and position increased the burning need within me, the craving for his manhood and for him to simply ravish me, take me, and do so in every which way that pleased him.

Oh God! I could feel the hardness of his shaft against me, and my body responded by turning weak, trembling with the need to be filled, shocking me to my center.

My mind, however, refused to submit to his sexual seduction. It was then he let go of my lips. Instead, his hot mouth moved to tease the sensitive spot near my ear. My body shuddered as he whispered, “You’re definitely worth two million. I’d fuck you every night.”

I caught my breath at his words and felt weak and aroused. I was reduced to a wanton wench.

Slowly, he eased his thigh from between my legs and lowered me to the ground. With his face touching mine and his lips caressing my cheek, he said softly, “Make up your mind. Two million. Five years. Your brother will go free. You have until Friday morning.”

He moved his body back, though his hand still trapped me between him and the door. Panting, I watched him as he stared at me, his eyes intense.

“What are you still doing here?” he suddenly snapped.

I heard the frustration and anger in his voice, but how could I move if he was still trapping me there? He was a brick wall, and I was a puny thing. Furthermore, my legs couldn’t move. They were paralyzed in numbness.

My body stiff, he pulled me by the arm, closer to him. I could feel the whole length of him, his muscular, toned body and his hard rod pushing against his pants, against my belly. I squirmed with a flare of sexual heat at the feel of his bulge, evidence of his hunger and desire for me.

“Or have you decided already?”

I hesitantly shook my head.

He cupped my face firmly so I had no choice but to look up at him.

“You know how fucking tempting you are, sweetheart?” he said. “If you don’t want me to throw you on the floor and fuck you hard now—leave!”

I got the message loud and clear. I pulled myself free from his enchanting incarceration and turned my back to him. My hands at the door, I tried to yank it open. When it didn’t budge, I whispered, “The door.”

I felt him releasing a deep sigh, as if it were very painful for him to suddenly let me go. Then slowly and reluctantly he eased his hand from the door.

I pulled it open and slipped out, racing down the hall, my heart pumping loud and fast and tears blinding me.

My heart was still racing from the short, intense, stupefying experience when I sprinted down the grand stairs. I was at the base and was about to leave when Ms. Lane appeared before me. Her expression was once again calm and stern.

“Your backpack,” she said tonelessly, handing me my belongings.

I got ahold of myself and murmured, “Thanks.”

With my stuff back, I ran out the door and down the long driveway. I didn’t stop running until I reached the gate, until I was sure I was far enough away from Mr. J. Maxwell, the man who had hotly kissed me and wanted to ravish me. The man who made me squirm under his touches and made my inside desire to be filled with his hard shaft. The man who reduced me to nothing but a wanton wench. It was only then I collapsed on the grass and allowed the tears to flow down my cheeks and the hunger and craving to be ravished and filled by the man with beautiful Prussian-blue eyes, the man named Mr. J. Maxwell, to consume me.