Aria glances down and looks back up at me. “I did,” she admits.
“How does that make you feel?”
She pauses for a second, clearly searching for words. Finally, she says, “I’m not worth that much money.”
I stare, surprised. I didn’t expect that response, but it hints at something much deeper to her.
“You’re worth more than two million,” I say.
“Maybe,” she says, looking away.
I watch her for a moment then turn the contract back to me. I flip to the last page and sign it, not needing to read the rest of it.
That moment sealed it for me. I have to have this girl. I need her. I want her more than I could ever have imagined. Not just because I’m paying two million dollars for her, but because she fascinates me. The money is nothing. But her submission, her obedience, her genuine seduction... that’s worth it all.
Once the pages are signed, the door suddenly opens and the young woman steps inside. “Are you all ready, Mr. Locks?” she asks.
“I am,” I say, standing.
“Good. Please, bring that contract and follow me.”
I look at Aria and she smiles at me. “See you later,” I say.
“Yeah. See you.”
I smirk at her for a second longer then turn and follow the woman out of the room.
My heart is hammering and I don’t know what’s going to happen from here. I just signed that insane contract and now it’s official. I’m going to pay these people then take Aria home with me.
I own her. She’s mine. I bought her for an absurd sum of money and I get to do whatever I wish with her for one month.
And I wish to seduce her until she’s begging for me, genuinely begging for me, out of her mind with desire.
4
Aria
I feel better as soon as I get a chance to change into normal clothes.
Meeting Ethan for the first time made me feel things I never expected. He wasn’t at all what I assumed he’d be. He’s interesting, attractive, smart, and funny. He made me feel comfortable, despite that one tiny blip in the conversation. I actually found myself wanting to be around him, and not just because I’m getting paid.
I still can’t believe how much he spent. If I make it through this and everything goes as it should, I’ll walk away with over one million dollars. I won’t ever have to do anything like this again. I’ll pay off my debts, find a new apartment, find a new job, or maybe even go back to school. I’ll have options again. I’ll be free.
But only if I get through this.
As soon as Ethan leaves, ponytail comes back and takes me into the back rooms again. He instructs me to get changed, which I do, and he brings my bags. Once I’m in street clothes, and feeling much more comfortable, I carry my two bags full of all my earthly possessions out through a back door and into a big black sedan.
Ethan is sitting in the other seat, waiting for me. Once ponytail closes the door, I realize that I’m really doing this. I’m really going home with this man.
“Welcome,” he says. “Ready?”
I nod. “I’m ready.”
“It’s not a far drive. I live downtown.”
“Really?”
He nods as the driver pulls out. We head down Broad toward the center of the city. “It’s an old house. Well, six old houses. I bought them up and renovated them a few years ago.”
“You live in... six houses?” I can’t help but laugh.
“I know, it’s absurd. Too much space for just me. Truth is, I spend a lot of time in the office.”
“Good thing I’m coming to stay with you,” I say, smiling. “Someone will finally give your house some use.”
“That’s one benefit,” he says, grinning back. “Truth is, I have a full staff back at the house. They keep it all running without me. Plus, there’s Jenkins, and he lives there full time.”
“Jenkins?” I ask.
Ethan looks a little bashful, which is incredibly endearing on him. “Jenkins is my butler.”
I laugh out loud, shaking my head. “You’re kidding?”
“I’m not kidding,” he says, laughing along with me. “I really have a live-in butler named Jenkins.”
“That’s the most cliché rich person thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I know.” He grins and leans back in his seat. “It’s all status stuff. I don’t need Jenkins, but he does make my life easier.”
“How so?”
“Simple stuff,” he says. “Jenkins runs the household. Pays the bills, manages the staff, makes sure food is ready when I’m there, makes sure nothing is wasted. You’ll meet him soon.”
I suddenly feel very, very nervous. We drive into a more residential area of town, one of the richest neighborhoods in the city. I’ve been here before, of course, but only while walking through. I live in the south part of the city, or at least I used to. Now I’m homeless, but I probably won’t tell him that.
Nobody wants some homeless, ex-addict girl living in their house. I need to keep some things secret from Ethan, because otherwise I’m afraid he won’t like the truth.
The car pulls up out front of a large beautiful building. It looks like an old brick row home, but it’s much wider, with many windows. It’s immaculately kept, which I assume is the work of Jenkins.
“Home sweet home,” Ethan says, getting out of the car. He comes around and helps me out, even carrying my bags. He waves off the driver, tips him, and sends him off.
The car speeds away and we walk up the stoop. Ethan hits a button on the buzzer, pauses a second, and then another buzzer sounds. He pushes open the door and we step inside.
The entryway is beautiful. The floor is all hardwood, gleaming and immaculate. Modern art is hanging on the walls. There’s a stairwell to the right, a door to the left, and a French door to the right, next to the stairs.
Ethan walks straight ahead and I hurry to follow him. I gape at everything we come across. The hall opens up into a large open space that’s obviously at least two townhouses wide. There’s an immaculately furnished living room area with a ceiling that goes up at least two stories. Back into the other townhouse, to the left is a large modern kitchen with beautiful appliances. I can’t help but stare all around me.
I’ve never seen anything so nice in my whole life. I knew he was rich, or at least I knew it on some abstract level. But now that I’m seeing his actual objects and the house he lives in, I can really appreciate it.
The place looks like a museum or a high-end hotel or something. It’s absolutely spotless and nothing is out of place. As we move into the kitchen and Ethan tosses his wallet and keys onto the counter, a door off to one side opens and a man steps out.
“Jenkins,” Ethan says, smiling. “We have a guest.”
“Do we, sir?”
Jenkins is an older man, short and thin, maybe in his sixties. His white hair is slicked back but his crystal clear blue eyes are sharp and intelligent. He looks at me appraising, but he doesn’t smile.
“Nice to meet you,” I say to him.
“Charmed,” he responds without looking at me.