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.”
“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.