Suddenly His Page 2

  My phone beeps and I take my eyes off the road long enough to see that Kirk has texted me the security code for Creed’s gate. A moment later, my tires squeal to a stop in front of it and I hammer in the numbers with my finger, barely restraining myself from hitting the gas and plowing my Bugatti right through the gate.

  Finally, it opens and I burn rubber, reaching the circular driveway in a matter of seconds. Whereas my estate is modern, this perverted motherfucker is all about old world charm, a throwback to the mob’s glory days, and it curls my lip in disgust. I wouldn’t give a second thought to his design choices if he wasn’t using the extravagance to hide the manipulation of girls who can’t turn down the extra money. Girls like Maisy.

  Although…I can’t quite believe she’d come here willingly.

  It just doesn’t fit. And I like it even less knowing that she might have been coerced.

  With a growl, I try the handle on the front door and find it locked, so I’m forced to knock, molars grinding. I’m impatient. To pay whatever I have to pay and get Maisy out of here, even though I have no clue how I’m going to explain my obvious determination to win her when we’ve never met. Or how I’m going to explain my aggressive bidding on an eighteen-year-old girl when I’ve never been to one of these pervert parties in my life, nor would I.

  Some old fucker answers the door and I breeze past him, pasting a huge smile on my face as I enter the living room—which is actually more the size of a ballroom, with antique furniture scattered in intimate clusters. Not to mention lots of flat surfaces where the winner can collect on his bid afterward while everyone watches.

  Not with Maisy. Not even over my dead body.

  I untuck a cigar from my suit jacket and light it, waiting for the bidding to pause and everyone to give me their attention. “So this is where all the dirty old men have been hiding,” I drawl, blowing a smoke ring into the air. “I’m already bored. Did I win yet?”

  Maisy is standing in the front of the room and I only allow myself a split second to look at her. To determine that she’s unharmed. I’ve been in board rooms with a lot of these sharks and if they sense how deep my infatuation with her runs, they’ll circle her all the faster. So I glance away as quickly as possible, but it’s enough to brand the sight of her in pink silk and a terrified expression forever.

  Oh, she definitely isn’t here willingly.

  “Ah, Jack Lincoln.” Winston Creed’s smile is brittle. “You’ve never accepted an invitation to one of our gatherings. I was surprised when your associate here agreed to pay the membership fee and immediately started throwing around such hefty bids on the new girl.” He runs lecherous eyes over Maisy and I force myself not to stiffen. “There must be something very special about her, men.”

  Kirk approaches me from the side. I don’t shift my attention from Creed while Kirk whispers in my ear. “We’re the lead bid as of now. It’s already at two hundred and fifty thousand.” I don’t flinch at the number. I can make that in my sleep. Problem is, so can the other men in this room and they’re old members. They have seniority. I’ll need to pull my dick out to make them go away. These veterans only know one language and it’s aggression. “There are five men in the running, all old enough to be her father.”

  I keep my smile in place, but my jaw is about to shatter. “Why don’t we end this now, since you’re all up past your bedtimes? 60 Minutes ended hours ago.” I saunter closer to the front of the room, desperately needing Maisy to be within reaching distance. “A million dollars for the girl. Cash. Do we have a deal or will you bore me further?”

  Murmuring starts behind me and I use the guests’ distraction as another chance to look at Maisy. Jesus. She’s so beautiful, she rattles me. Goodness radiates from her every pore. Makes me want to pray, to thank a higher power for creating her, when I haven’t acknowledged my maker in years. I’ve had Kirk send me pictures of Maisy, daily, for the last six months, but film doesn’t do her justice. Doesn’t capture the gentle curve of her mouth, the virtue in her brown eyes, the way she shines.

  Her virginal body.

  All limber limbed and soft as fuck, swells and valleys in all the right places.

  A million dollars would be a bargain.

  How is she looking at me?

  There’s some curiosity, surprise…and definite resentment. Of course there is. She thinks I’m here to purchase her for sex. She has no way of knowing I’d never make her go through with it. That I’d rather die than fuck her when she isn’t willing.

  But I can’t tell her any of that. Not now.

  These men need to believe I’m as unscrupulous as they are. Or they’ll be threatened. They want me culpable. To sink as low as them. Or they’ll worry about me ruining their ongoing party. And in a lot of ways, I am unscrupulous. Hard. Demanding. A bastard.

  That’s why I watch her from a distance. That’s why I don’t touch.

  I smile at her—with teeth—and she sucks in a breath.

  “Two million,” a man’s voice calls out behind me. “Haven’t had a virgin since I was in high school.”

  “Gosh, Eisenhower must have still been in office,” I grit out, refusing to show my panic. Slowly, I turn on a heel to face my opponent. “How about ten million, you saggy-balled motherfucker? Remember, you’re retired. I’m still raking it in.” I clamp my cigar between my teeth. “I can go all night.”

  There’s a long pause.

  I can hear Maisy’s whimpering intake of breath behind me. The sound is an icepick through my chest, but I strive to maintain a cocky appearance.

  It’s usually not so difficult.

  “Do I hear eleven million?” Winston Creed asks behind me, his tone gleeful. “No? Ten million going once, going twice. Sold. I suppose it’s somewhat fitting that our freshest meat goes to the newest member, Jack Lincoln. Congratulations.”

  Relief floods me, but I shrug, as if winning Maisy is no big deal. I turn around and meet her dazed eyes, wishing I knew how to be reassuring. She needs it, the poor girl. She’s trembling, for godsakes, her knees knocking together. At least I know I can ease her worries by getting her the hell out of here. Home where she belongs.

  Feeling completely inept, I hold my hand out to her. “Come on, angel,” I say hoarsely. “You’re done here.”

  “No, she’s not. Neither of you are,” Winston Creed croons, already guiding the next girl to the front of the room. “Perhaps you should have read the membership agreement before joining, Mr. Lincoln. The highest bid of the night is consummated in the viewing area.” His lips bend into a smile. “Where we can all watch.”

  3

  Maisy

  I don’t know whether to be relieved or horrified.

  Both. Definitely both.

  My mother’s boss just paid ten million dollars to sleep with me.

  I can barely wrap my mind around that fact. The fact that my twenty percent cut is going to make me rich at the end of tonight is something I’ll have to think about—to marvel over—later. Right now, I can only stare at Winston Creed in horror. Did he just say…?

  The highest bid of the night is consummated in the viewing area.

  Where we can all watch.

  There’s no way. I won’t live through the humiliation. These men and the lecherous way they stared at me tonight will tax my memory forever. My skin is still crawling, the fear still weaving through my nervous system. To have my first sexual experience in front of them would not only tarnish it forever, but it would traumatize me.

  “Yeah,” laughs Jack Lincoln, his eyes hard. “That isn’t going to happen.”

  Cool relief coasts into my stomach and I step closer to Jack, recognizing him as my ironic savior. This is a man who pays my mother peanuts to clean his twenty-bedroom, eighteen-bathroom mansion. He’s the reason she can barely afford to put food on the table. The reason I had to take a job cleaning, instead of starting classes at the community college this fall. In our apartment, his name is synonymous with the devil.

  When th
e man in the audience started calling out bids, claiming his client—Jack freaking Lincoln—was on the way, I thought it had to be joke. I’ve never even met Jack. And I definitely, one thousand percent would recall meeting this man. He’s nothing like the bitter old man I’ve been picturing. No, he’s young. Maybe thirty. He’s charismatic and wildly arrogant.

  To say he’s good looking would be an understatement, with his wind-whipped black hair, a square jaw and piercing blue eyes. All that abundantly muscled height. If I didn’t know for a fact how poorly he treats my mother, I would call him a romance hero in the flesh, but facts are facts. He’s a romance villain.

  He’ll pay to deflower a virgin, but he won’t pay the help a proper salary.

  Those priorities tell me all I need to know about him.

  However, he is the lesser of two evils here.

  And he’s just told Winston Creed that there’s no way he’s collecting on his prize while this roomful of men watch it happen.

  “It is going to happen,” Winston says, with deceptive calm. “This club has been meeting for decades and we follow the rules. To the letter. If you’re refusing to have her in the viewing area, I’ll have no choice but to offer her to the second-highest bidder.”

  A line jumps in Jack’s cheek. “I wouldn’t suggest you try that.”

  If I wasn’t a believer in Stockholm syndrome before, I definitely am now. Jack is paying to have sex with me, yet I’m granting him sainthood for wanting to do it privately. Have I lost my mind? Every man in this room is morally corrupt, including Jack.

  So why am I putting my hand in his?

  Why am I twining my fingers through his much larger ones and moving into the protective heat of his side? It makes no sense.

  When our palms meet, Jack jolts a little, his arrogance slipping. He looks down at our hands, visibly shocked for a number of seconds, before tightening his grip and pulling me closer. I curl into him almost automatically, hiding my face in his chest, and now it’s my turn to be shocked. Since arriving, his attitude has almost been blasé. Yet his heart is stampeding like a pack of wild horses.

  I peek up to find him looking down at me. He looks…caught.

  Because I’ve discovered his crazy heartbeat?

  He clears his throat hard and shifts his attention back to Winston. “I’ll pay more to have it done privately.”

  “Bidding is closed,” Winston says, enunciating each word. “And perhaps you should read the room a little better, Mr. Lincoln. Can’t you see they’re salivating to watch you fuck the hot little virgin? It has been a while since we’ve had two young, attractive people in their prime give us a show. Too long.” I turn in Jack’s arms to find Winston gesturing, bringing two men forward.

  They have guns.

  Jack slowly turns me until he’s using his body as a shield. “What the fuck, Creed?”

  “There is a…steep penalty for not following the rules,” Winston purrs. “If you’re not actively participating, then you’re an innocent bystander. A witness with no guilt. And we like everyone here to be nice and guilty, so there’s no fear of you talking to the Feds.”

  Through the expensive material of Jack’s suit, I feel his muscles grow taut. An angry vibration sifting inside of him. This is a powerful man who never gets cornered, but we are quite simply that. There is no way out of this, is there?

  “I’ll take that check now,” Winston says in a slithering voice.

  He knows he has us.

  The man who bid on me in Jack’s stead comes forward, removing a checkbook from the inner pocket of his overcoat.

  “Make it out for eight million,” Jack instructs him in a voice that could cut diamonds. “I’ll give the girl her cut directly.”

  “The rules—” Winston snarls.

  “Fuck your rules,” Jack growls. “I want to make sure she gets the money.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  Jack just laughs at that. “Where is the viewing area, as you so romantically named it?”

  Winston gestures to the room. “We’re not done with the auction.”

  My stomach turns at the word auction. Gina and Darlene still have their turn ahead. And I wish they wouldn’t put themselves through this. I wish there was an easier way for them to make money, but I also understand why they’ve made the choice.

  I wish I’d been given the same one.

  “Continue your auction,” Jack says. “I’m taking a few minutes alone with her. Before.”

  Winston waves a hand toward the back of the house. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

  That ominous statement makes me shiver.

  Jack seems relieved to get me out of the room, away from the armed men, further confusing me about his character. Is he a good man underneath all that arrogance?

  No. I have to refuse this notion that we’re on the same side. We’re not. He is paying to have sex with me. He is one of them.

  Although…did he join this club just for me?

  I don’t understand why he would do that. We’ve never met. So I sincerely doubt he’s aware that my mother is his housekeeper. Even if he knew about the relation, he certainly wouldn’t pay ten million dollars to rescue the daughter of the cleaner.

  Especially one he underpays.

  We round the corner into another oblong lounge, this one overlooking the backyard, complete with pool and tennis courts. At the end of the lounge, a red light glows from a high, arched doorway. Jack hesitates before guiding me toward it. The closer we come to the ominous red glow, the more my nerves start to jangle, my thin slip dress an insubstantial defense for whatever lies on the other side.

  I realize I’ve skidded to a halt when Jack turns and looks down at me with a flash of concern. “It’s going to be all right, Maisy.”

  An alarm bell peels in my head. “How d-do you know my name?”

  He tilts his head slightly, a line forming between his brows. “One of your friends called out to you as we were leaving. Didn’t you hear her?”

  “No.”

  “Hmm.”

  I have no choice but to believe him. How else would he know?

  Slowly, Jack brings my wrist to his mouth and kisses my pulse, his lips hard, warm. His body is outlined by the red glow of the viewing room and confusion dances in my bloodstream, along with…reluctant heat. Who is kissing me? A savior? Or the devil himself?

  “Don’t be scared of me, angel,” he whispers, kissing the soft inner skin of my forearm now. “Trust me to make this good for you.”

  My mouth falls open. “Oh, there’s no way to make this good for me.”

  A single brow ticks up. “Is that a challenge?”

  Jack doesn’t give me a chance to answer.

  He simply scoops me up in his arms and carries me through the glowing red doorway.

  * * *

  Through the doorway is a den of depravity. There is no other way to put it.

  The décor is decadent, just like the rest of the house. Luxurious wall hangings, thick Aubusson rugs, a high ceiling. But the entire space glows with a dark, sultry red.

  In the center of the room is a flat, undecorated bed, fitted with a white sheet. No pillows. No blankets. The red light is more concentrated on the center of the room, while the outskirts are more shadowed. Leather armchairs are positioned in a circle around the bed, no less than five feet from the mattress. So close. These men are going to be so close. Watching me. Hearing everything. Seeing everything. Seeing me.

  Even Jack seems taken aback by the blatant debauchery of it all, but he carries me toward the bed and sits me on the edge of the mattress. He shrugs off his jacket and tosses it casually over one of the leather armchairs. I get the odd sense that he’s nervous, but that can’t be right. I’m just trying to make him my savior again, because I’m vulnerable here, in this place.

  “Maisy.” In the process of unbuttoning his shirt, Jack comes to stand in front of me, close enough that I can feel his body heat on my knees. “I wouldn’t have chosen to…m
eet you like this—”

  “Then why are you meeting me like this? Why did you bid?” I shake my head. “You weren’t even a member of the club before tonight.”

  “Yes. That’s true.” His hands pause in the act of releasing his buttons and he seems to search for an explanation. “Would you believe I’m a vigilante? I hear a virgin is in danger of being slobbered all over by a Centrum Silver-popping grandpa and I show up to save the day.”

  “No. I wouldn’t believe that.”

  He winks at me. “It was worth a try.”

  Don’t laugh. This is not funny.

  He finishes his task of button popping, then eases the sides of his dress shirt open, slowly peeling the garment off his body. Putting on a show, I realize. Flaunting for me. Stubbornly, I try to keep my eyes above his neck, but there’s no ignoring his physique. It’s a work of art. A deep natural tan lovingly hugs his thick rolls and slabs of muscle. Big, meaty pecs and cantaloupe biceps. His abdomen is drum tight and these thick veins spear low, low into the waistband of his black pants.

  My toes protest and I realize I’ve got them curled tightly enough to hurt.

  Jack steps closer to me, his hips pressing to my knees and I find myself gallingly short of breath. Very…very short. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal.” He brushes a loose strand of hair off my bare shoulder and gives me a lopsided smile. “But if you had to sleep with someone for two million dollars, couldn’t you do worse, angel? I’m basically a fucking stallion.”

  A laugh trips over my lips.

  I can’t believe it.

  He made me laugh.

  When Jack hears the sound, he exhales in a rush, some of the tension leaving the corners of his eyes. “There you go, Maisy. It’s okay to relax. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, all right?”

  Is it okay to believe him?

  I don’t know. I don’t know.

  “I think it’s about time we introduce ourselves properly, right?” He plants his fists on either side of my hips, his sharp eyes traveling over my face, my shoulders. “I’m Jack Lincoln. Thirty-one. Hedge fund owner. Tequila enthusiast. Vintage video game collector. Rock climber. Purest asshole you’ll ever meet. Your turn.”