CHAINED TO YOU: The Contract (6 page)

He walked past me to the door, and I
remembered to asked him, “Where’s your office?”

“Ms. Lane will show you there,” he said over
his shoulder and then closed the door with a click.

“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. My ripped
clothes were everywhere. I sighed and proceed to find a pair of
jeans and T-shirt that was 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 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 of 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 magical
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 bucks.

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 allow 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 back-story rather bland and uninteresting, like he’d heard
that
particular story a hundred times before. I’ll admit it
was rather a common back-story, but when it happens to you, when
every possible shit 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 me 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.

“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 last 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
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 that 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 arseholes ever think
of? Throwing your damn money on whatever you deem attainable?
Whatever you think has a price tag?”

I knew I was stepping 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 whilst 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 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 and deliciously 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 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 that 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 were 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 some
minutes past.

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