: Chapter 2

A pervasive chill settled into Julianna’s body as she signed the pages-long legal document with trembling fingers and thrust it back at Richard before she lost her nerve. What was she doing? How had things come to this? She wiped at her mouth, still tasting him. She’d never met a man so handsome yet so utterly cruel. To dangle such a prize in front of her only to snatch it away unless she agreed to his disgusting demand? In all of her life she’d never met anyone so depraved. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, she stared at Richard, repulsed. “How can you work for a man like him?”

Richard remained expressionless as he tucked the paperwork into his interior breast pocket. “Money is a great motivator. I see it motivated you.” Julianna’s cheeks colored, hating that he would throw that in her face, even if it were true. Richard continued with a shrug, “At least I know he’ll never asked me to suck his cock. That’s what he has you for.”

“You think I’m a whore for doing this?”

He ignored her flash of indignation and began walking to her front door, stopping to say, ‘What I think doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not a whore,” she said quietly anyway. Maybe if she kept saying it, she’d start believing it in her heart. “What would you do if you were in my shoes?”

“Everyone has a good story. Even you.”

She balled her fists. “So I should’ve just let my brother rot in that wheelchair, in a place hardly fit for a dog because that’s all we can afford? I guess I’m a whore because I sold myself to help my brother. Well, at the very least, a whore with a heart of gold, right?”

“Why do you care how I feel about you? I am no one to you.”

“Because I don’t like the feeling of being judged for making an impossible choice. I’m just trying to do what’s right.”

“Then it shouldn’t matter what others think. They don’t live your life and they don’t walk in your shoes.”

That simple logic struck a chord and she let it sink in for a moment. “I suppose you’re right,” Julianna slowly agreed, wondering about the older man. She’d assumed that anyone who would work for Boston Kincaid was devoid of all morals but Richard was putting that assumption to the test. “So what do I do now?” she asked.

“A car will come to pick you up in about two hours. Have your things ready to be transported to the house. Be mindful of what you bring. Only bring the essentials; everything else will be purchased at Mr. Kincaid’s pleasure. Also, be sure to wear both of his gifts tonight as he will expect to see them.’

Her stare strayed to the white box formerly tied with the pink ribbon and bit back the hot words that danced on her tongue. She wanted to tell Richard to send the lingerie back because she wouldn’t wear it but to do so would be contradictory to what she’d agreed to and simply nodded. She was already wearing Boston’s other gift, though she hardly considered the lovely bracelet a gift when it was merely a symbol of his ownership of her. Richard smiled with approval when she didn’t balk. “Smart girl,” he said, starting to leave but Julianna stopped him with a question.

“Are you loyal to him?”

“Of course I am.”

“Why?”

“The simple answer is because he pays me to be but the complicated answer is far more complex. I’ve known his family for a very long time. I can say that Boston hasn’t always been this way.”

“You mean he wasn’t always a selfish, self-absorbed asshole?”

“He’s a Kincaid. He always had the potential to be that way. But at one time, he was less hard.”

“What happened?”

“That’s not my story to tell.” Although he appeared ready to leave, Richard paused to offer one last bit of advice. “Do yourself a favor and never question him. If he wants you to wake him up every morning with a blowjob, give it to him. If he wants to fuck you in the ass, bend over, part your cheeks and beg for it.”

The vulgarity of Richard’s advice made her want to vomit. She couldn’t see herself doing any of those things but she’d just signed on the dotted line and the ink was still fresh. “And if I don’t?”

“Then he will make your life miserable and when that no longer works, he’ll destroy anyone who was ever close to you. Starting with your brother.”

What kind of monster had she just tied herself to? How could one person be that bad? “He’s an evil man,” she said, her eyes filling.

Richard surprised her when he disagreed. “Not evil, just determined. You should be flattered. I’ve never seen him so taken with a single woman before.”

Flattered? It was difficult to feel flattered when she suffered the knowledge she’d sold herself to the man. But Boston Kincaid had taught her a valuable lesson — even dignity could be bought.

“What if he beats me?” she asked. “What then?”

At that Richard smiled. “Depends on the kind of beating. Some hits can ring with pleasure.”

“Not in my world.”

“You’re not in your world anymore. Good evening, Miss Holly. And good luck.”

Richard closed the door behind him and she dropped onto her old, worn-out sofa. She plucked at the fraying fabric, a near hysterical smile following as she recalled how she’d been stressed about the seventy-five dollars the sofa had been priced at the thrift store. After Boston Kincaid was finished with her, she’d be able to buy something brand new and expensive. But she liked this worn-out, ugly sofa, she nearly wailed to the empty apartment. She dropped her head into her hands and cried.

There was a time when she’d wished that a handsome stranger would sweep her off her feet and make all of her problems go away. Reality had a way of squashing those girlish fantasies. After Tom’s accident, she’d had no choice but to quit school to pay for the care facility he was housed at because her apartment wasn’t equipped for someone with his needs. Tom was the only family she had left. Their parents were gone with no extended family to speak of, so what was she supposed to do? She thought of the cutting edge rehabilitation center in New Zealand and how Tom would finally get top-notch care and her spirits lifted a tiny bit until she wondered how she was going to explain this sudden lucky break. Should she tell him the truth? Would he believe it? Would he turn up his nose in disgust or would he understand? It hardly seemed possible that she was even doing this at all. She rubbed her temples hoping to massage away the tension headache that was beginning to throb. She glanced around her small apartment and began to pack.

#

“Is she getting her affairs in order?” he asked once Richard returned.

“Yes. The car will pick her up at six and bring her to the house as requested.”

“Excellent.” Boston said, the anticipation nearly killing him. “Did you give her the gift?”

‘I did.”

“And?” he inquired impatiently. “What did she think?”

“She will look quite lovely in it,” Richard answered tactfully and Boston actually chuckled.

“She hated it didn’t she?” he guessed.

“I think she is struggling with the unique nature of your relationship,” Richard ventured. “But I think she’ll come around eventually. You have a way with women.”

“Yes, well, my money does anyway.” He gestured for Richard to leave and was left with his thoughts. What was it about this girl? Generally, he preferred his women tall, lithe and nearly rail-thin. Julianna was the antithesis to every woman he’d ever been attracted to.

But he couldn’t deny that she turned him inside out and backwards and had since the moment he laid eyes on her. A dangerous thing, that. He couldn’t afford such an attraction without finding some way to control it. People were always trying to find ways to get to him — from gold diggers and con artists to desperate business owners hoping to find a deep-pocketed investor — he’d seen it all. In the end, it was safer to keep his circle of trust impossibly tight, and that extended to the women in his life.

He enjoyed the flash of temper that she didn’t try to hide and he suspected she would never tell him exactly what he wanted to hear, which was something everyone else did to varying degree. The saying, “It’s lonely at the top” certainly applied to him, he thought with a momentary pinch of self-pity but then he realized what he was doing and chuckled at his own ridiculousness. Being filthy rich was fabulous. Staying in the best hotels, being assured of the most impeccable service, and never having to glance at a price tag was a luxury few were given. Where was this sudden flash of the “Rich Man Blues” coming from? Besides, in a few short hours, he was going to be balls deep inside the most intriguing, most lovely woman he’d ever encountered — and the best part — she was all his.

Spirits lifted, he returned to his work, his mind already switching gears.