2. Evangeline
"Now, before we begin, I have to ask." Lyra leans back, somehow looking every inch a queen in the vaguely cramped backseat. "How far are you willing to go?"
I don't even have to think about it. "As far as it takes." I must win, and I will win, no matter the cost.
She nods as if she expected nothing less. "And what are you willing to offer?"
I flush. Grandpa hasn't granted me unrestricted access to company funds. Spending beyond a certain limit requires Eddie Griffin's approval. Not to mention, every expense is subject to Hightower Group's meticulous accounting practices.
I have a trust fund, but I won't have full access until I'm thirty. I've never wanted for anything, but all my credit cards and bank accounts are linked to my grandpa. My liquid assets are minimal.
Except… I touch my necklace. "I have this."
Lyra motions with impatient fingers, each tipped with blood-red polish to match her lips. "Let's see."
I lift the necklace, intending to take it off, but she snatches it and tugs, drawing me closer. My breath hitches in my chest. I don't know if I'm imagining it, but I swear I can feel the warmth radiating from her body, and it sends a shiver down my spine. I watch as she runs her fingers over my mother's necklace. Sapphires, diamonds, and emeralds depict the depths of the ocean, swirling around a stylized ruby seahorse. It's worth a small fortune, but it's priceless to me.
Lyra lays it back against my chest, her knuckles brushing my sternum between the buttons of my shirt. An accidental touch, maybe, but it makes me flinch back.
I'm still regaining my composure when she shakes her head. "It won't be enough."
I blink. "Someone might be willing to pay half a million dollars for this."
"You're playing in the big leagues now." She dismisses my surprise nonchalantly. "To permit your digital tokens to operate as they are means protecting you from multiple departments and agencies. Billions of dollars are to be made in this business, and everyone wants a piece of it. We're talking about protection from at least the vice prime minister level."
"You promised a way out."
"I didn't promise you'd like it." She gives another of those shrugs that mean absolutely nothing. "You have the pretty necklace, but it's not enough."
"I don't have anything else!"
"Don't you?"
I shake my head, trying to concentrate past the rising tide of hopelessness. "What are you talking about? Do you think if I had anything of value, I would hold it back?"
"If you had anything of value?" She finally looks at me again, almost pityingly. "Come now, girl. Surely you're not that naive. You must know you possess the one thing guaranteed to be valuable enough."
"I don't understand." Except, as her gaze sweeps over my body, I'm starting to. I shake my head.
"You don't dare to suggest..." Fury rises within me.
Her lips quirk into a smirk, as if she's talking about groceries. "Yes, I'm talking about your body. You're pretty, but nothing they haven't seen and tried. Yet, a billionaire's grand daughter from the Commonwealth has its thrill."
Sex. She's talking about sex. I fight not to tense, and I'm not entirely successful. I could brazen my way through this, but...
"I've never had sex before." Ambition and study have consumed me since I was sixteen.
"That only makes what you're offering more valuable. This country is obsessed with virginity." She laughed.
The thought of giving my virginity to some ugly, old man makes my stomach churn. As a young woman, I've had fantasies of true love. A charming prince, a white horse, a castle where we live happily ever after.
"Just one night, or maybe a few. Aren't you willing to exchange that for smooth sailing in this vast country with great potential? Not just your current operation, but anything you do in the future? Lock up the position of heir for good?"
Yes! Of course! It's barely even a question. A voice screams inside me. What are a hymen and a single night when weighed against control of a trillion-dollar empire? It's only sex. If I have no experience with it, at least I'll have no expectations for it. From most of what I've read on the subject, the first time isn't anything to look forward to. Better to rip off the bandage and move on to the good stuff. Even if none of that were true, my answer would be the same.
"I'll do it."
… …
Carmesia's a city of perpetual motion. Even at 9:30pm, its arteries throb with traffic, its sidewalks teem with life. You wouldn't comprehend the sheer density of it without living it.
The Zephyr Noir slices through the traffic like a sleek panther, silent and graceful amidst the urban cacophony. We journey westward, coming to a halt before a towering edifice crowned with the name "Elysian Collection." It's the epitome of luxury, the city's most opulent hotel.
"Let's meet the Investor first." Lyra gestures for me to exit the car.
I squint upwards at the building, then have to scramble to keep up with Lyra's long strides.
I'd envisioned her taller. It's a peculiar expectation, but she'd felt larger than life during our drive. Discovering she's perhaps only three inches taller than my own five-foot-five frame is oddly unsettling.
Outside the car, her aura should dissipate, yet it doesn't. Amidst the throng of pedestrians, she is in a class all her own, a shark swimming with minnows. Like minnows, people flit out of her way as if sensing danger.
The neon light plays across her body the same way the shadows of the car did, drawing my gaze to the way her dress hugs her curves with each stride. She's tall and powerful and confident, and she makes me feel tiny and breakable and brittle by comparison. I don't think I like it. But then, that's my problem, isn't it? I have a feeling she'd walk the exact same way even if I weren't here.
Once inside the building, I nearly lose sight of Lyra as she makes a couple of quick turns, leading me to a secluded corner. She buzzes us through a door, revealing a private elevator. Inside, there's only one button: 77—the top floor.
"You don't have to do this, you know." Lyra's tone is almost kind. Her eyes remain cold, but I sense they don't warm often, so I don't take it personally. Still, she's smiling at me as if trying to be reassuring. I turn back to face the shiny elevator door. "Yes, I do. As you pointed out, I have nothing else to bargain with."
"It may not be worth it. With age, you always value what you lost."
Is she getting closer? I'm not sure, but I'm suddenly achingly aware of how the cut of her dress offers the strongest tease of cleavage. I jerk my gaze away from her reflection, but it doesn't help. Even though there's a polite twelve inches between us, she's everywhere in this small space. My face is flaming, and I can't make it stop.
"That's the only thing I want," I finally manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
She shrugs. "Young and ambitious. Believe conquest can give you happiness. Even if that's not how most of the stories end." Her laugh is deep and sensual, and my skin prickles with an unfamiliar, almost yearning response.
I close my eyes, but even that offers no escape. Her presence lingers, tantalizingly close.
"Stories aren't real life." I retort.
"No, but they contain a multitude of lessons that a clever person heeds." The elevator doors slide open before I can formulate a response. But what response is there?
I've made my decision, and I'm going through with it. It's such a small sacrifice to make for the grand price. People have sex for money all the time, not to mention for a trillion dollars. It's the world's oldest trade, or close to it. There's no shame in this choice.