Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels (88 page)

“This is the girl,” Marion told the man. The man nodded and put his arm lightly around my back and led me out of the building and towards a small, red sports car.

“What’s your name?” The man asked, not unkindly.

“I can’t remember.” I told him honestly.

The man nodded as though he expected that answer. “Well, that will be resolved soon enough.”

I wanted to ask him more questions.
Who are you? Where are you taking me? Is this your coat I’m wearing?
No, this coat was made for someone much taller and much broader than him. I decided I wasn’t going to ask questions and instead continue to be grateful for everything that had happened to me in the past twenty-four hours. This was probably the only chance I would get to escape from poverty and I might as well make the most of it.

Chapter Two

I wasn’t aware that I had fallen asleep until the driver nudged me lightly on the arm a couple times. I opened my eyes and stared in wonder at the change in scenery. It looked to be late afternoon or perhaps early evening. We were driving up a gravel path surrounded by acres of gorgeous green grass with horses grazing behind pure white fences. It felt strange to be away from the tall buildings and busy, loud streets of San Francisco and to find myself in such a quiet, peaceful looking place.

What caught my attention the most was the sprawling mansion at the end of the drive. It was stunningly beautiful; however I could not get past the feeling of apprehension as we parked out in front of it. The mansion was dark and looked as though it were made out of stone, like an old, gothic European castle.  The roof sloped up into points with giant, dark windows underneath. The grounds were beautifully landscaped with an array of colorful winter flowers and large, looming succulents, but it did not help keep away the forbidding vibe the mansion gave off.

I shook my head. Perhaps my imagination gets the better of me sometimes. “Where are we?” I asked the driver.

“This is going to be your new home.”

Home.
In this massive house? I laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No, miss. I’m afraid I’m not,” the man said, his voice completely serious.

We stepped out of the car. Without saying a word, the driver led me up the front steps and through the ornate, wooden door. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as I walked through the threshold and into what I later learned was the foyer. To my relief, the inside of the mansion did not look as gloomy and desolate as the outside. Bright light shone through the windows. Two large staircases spilled into the center of the foyer; the steps were covered in what looked like a Persian rug, and the banisters were leafed in gold. The floor was a white marble tile and extended underneath the staircase where pure white columns held up an alcove where a grand piano sat. What intrigued me the most was the vast array of artwork that surrounded me.

Large vases that looked to be from the Ming Dynasty sat on either side of the staircase. Intricately carved Grecian sculptures stared back at me with their stony silence. On the walls were a collection of Pre-Raphaelite paintings, and I swear I almost swooned at the sight of an original John William Waterhouse. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven with all of this art. My extensive knowledge of art theory and history was the one link that led to my past. It was too bad that the link wasn’t something more useful, like a name or a place to remind me of who I was
.
 

“Holy shit,” I whispered softly. I twirled around in a circle, trying to soak in everything around me. “I’m actually going to live here?”

Was there going to be someone behind a curtain that was suddenly going to jump out and say “Just kidding!” This was way too good to be true.

The man stopped and turned around to look at me. We were just about the same height, I noticed. Yep, this jacket was definitely not his.

“Yes, if you agree to the terms and conditions that the master of the house has laid out for you, then you will indeed be living here.” He continued walking further into the house. “Come, I will show you to your room.”

The way he talked was so prim and proper. This guy must be a butler, I thought as I followed him towards the staircase. I felt slightly self-conscious about walking up the carpeted steps with my shoes still on, only to remember that everything I wore—no, every single damn inch of me—was absolutely clean. I still felt like I could easily defile the place just with my presence. I lightly ran my hand over the golden banister as we ascended the steps, and quickly stopped as I realized I was smudging the smooth finish with my fingerprints.

When we reached the top of the stairs, he led me to a room at the far end of the hallway. I was already prepared for another surprise—I mean, a house this fancy must also have amazing bedrooms—but my mouth still hung open in shock as I stared at the huge, four-poster bed with red velvet curtains drawn back, revealing plush, red and white pillows and sheets that probably felt like clouds when sleeping on them. A massive, mahogany armoire sat in the corner next to the bed, its dark wooden color lit up by the sun shining through large, rectangle paned windows. I stepped into the bedroom and circled around it, trying not to become too overwhelmed. When I saw the adjoining bathroom, with sandstone tiles and a giant tub next to a window overlooking the grazing horses below, I had to sit down.

I could tell the man took pity on me; he gave me a small smile. “This will be your room if you choose to accept the contract,” he told me. “There are a few things in the wardrobe and in the bathroom for you to use, but if you need anything within reason, you may make requests.” He walked over to a small desk on the other side of the room. On the desk sat a small stack of papers and a pen. “This is your contract, and I advise you to read it thoroughly before you sign it. However, a decision must be made by tomorrow.”

A contract? I walked over to the desk and glanced over his shoulder at the papers. I could understand a few words, but there was no way I would be able to figure out all that was written on there. Great. Now I had to reveal my complete ignorance. It seemed like blasphemy to admit my illiteracy underneath this fancy roof.

“Could you go over it with me?” I asked tentatively.

He seemed surprised at first. “Of course,” he said, and I sat back down at the foot of the bed as he read it to me. “I will summarize it for you. Let me know if you have any questions and I will... do my best to explain it to you.” I nodded to him. “This contract outlines your duties and responsibilities within this household, and what you can expect from Victor Draper.”

Victor. I played the name through my mind, mouthing it silently, getting a taste for it. I brought the collar of the jacket I was wearing towards my nose again and breathed in the scent of the cologne.

The man continued reading off the contract to me:

“ ‘At this date (your name) is entering the service of Victor Draper. In order to pay for your room, meals, and other necessities, you will be required to perform general housekeeping duties as assigned by the employer, Victor Draper. You will wear a standard blouse and skirt, and you will wear your hair up. Jewelry and excessive makeup is not allowed. You will be expected to work Monday through Friday from 8am to 5pm, or when determined by the employer.’ ”

That seemed straightforward enough for me. I was about ready to tell him that I would sign the contract right then and there until the man cleared his throat. “There is a second part of the contract. Once again, let me know if you have any questions about this:

“ ‘At this date (your name) is also entering into a 24 hour power exchange relationship. By signing this contract you agree to act with manner and decorum in the presence of your employer (the Dominant) and you will be expected to address him as ‘Sir’…”

“Manner and decorum?” I wondered out loud, confused by the wording. Before he could explain, I suddenly realized what it meant. “Oh, that could be a bit of a struggle,” I said wryly. If there was anything I lacked it would have to be good manners. That kind of attitude would get me sacked out in the streets. I waited for the man to continue:

“ ‘You (the submissive) agree for your body to be available to him any time of the day and in any way he demands, which includes partaking in the act of sexual favors, as well as serving as decoration during social functions.’ ”

Decoration? Is he going to hang me around his neck like a scarf and show me off? And what was this about sexual favors?

“ ‘The Dominant will take full responsibility for the health and well-being of the submissive, and although there will be forcible punishment for acting out and/or for not following the rules, the Dominant will never leave a permanent mark or punish the submissive in a way that may require any outside treatment. Instances that may require punishment include:

1. Failure to address the Dominant as “Sir”.
   
2. Failure to adequately perform duties the Dominant assigns.
   
3. Failure to live up to the standards of manner and decorum as required by the Dominant.
   
4. Refusal or reluctance to partake in any activities the Dominant requests.
   
5. At any other point or time the Dominant deems necessary.’ ”
   

Punishment?
All right, perhaps this was getting a bit weird. Why should I let someone punish me for not living up to their standards? And what did “punishment” actually mean? Was he going to whip me? Or chain me up and leave me in a dungeon? I was almost positive that a house like this had some secret underground lair. I looked under my feet. Or maybe a trap door...

He continued. “ ‘This contract lasts for the duration of three months from the date signed, at which point there can be discussion of whether or not to terminate the contract or renew it. At any time the Dominant fails his duty to protect the submissive’s physical or mental health, or the submissive decides she no longer wants to abide by these terms, the contract may be terminated, but this is seen as a last resort.’ ”

He pointed to a line right below the blocks of letters. “If you agree to these terms, then you can sign your name below. Or, in your case, you can mark it with an ‘X’.” He made the symbol for an “X” in the air with his finger, to make sure I understood. I gave him a hesitant smile.

“I am told that you are free to rest for the night, but please have your decision made by tomorrow morning. Mr. Draper does not like to wait.” The man made for the door.

“Wait,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Oscar,” he told me kindly.

After Oscar left, I stared down at the contract. Some of the wording he used was a bit confusing, but I was able to make out most of what it meant.  What burned in my mind was the part about giving my body readily to Victor. The thought made me a bit uncomfortable, but the contract did say that one of his duties was to look after my well-being. That was a little reassuring, as was the fact that I could walk away from it all in a moment’s notice.

I sighed. It all really didn’t seem too bad. Different, yes, but it all seemed like a small price to pay to live in a huge, warm, house and eat what I expect to be delicious and comforting foods. Did I really want to go back to being homeless? Even if I did take that bus ticket, who’s to say I would be any better than I was before? I picked up the pen and wrote a big “X” as my signature. There, it was signed. Now I was ready to see what fate had in store for me.

Chapter Three

A sudden knock on the door woke me from a blissful, deep sleep. Moaning, I rolled to my side and opened my eyes slowly. A smile formed on my lips as I realized I wasn’t waking up in some smelly alley in the middle of the city; I was lying in a luxurious, comfortable bed, under the roof of a mansion. Outside I heard birds singing to each other, and the faint sound of a horse nickering. When was the last time I had felt so peaceful upon waking?

Oscar opened the door, and noticing that I was awake and staring at him silently, he walked in, carrying a hanger that held a white blouse and charcoal-colored skirt. He placed them at the end of the bed and quietly picked up the signed contract from the desk, studying it for a moment.

“The kitchen is downstairs, straight through the foyer and to the right. There will be some breakfast waiting for you. The maid will then tell you where to start working.” He gave me a small smile before leaving as quietly as he came, shutting the door softly behind him.

Excited to actually be able to do something productive rather than being pushed here and there by a bunch of strangers, I pushed the blankets off and studied the clothes Oscar left for me. Although I seriously lacked fashion knowledge, I knew the clothes had to be designer. I took my white slip off and began taking the blouse off the hanger when I realized I didn’t have a bra to wear with it. Frowning down at the fullness of my small, perky breasts, I knew that I wouldn’t look as sophisticated if I wore the blouse without one. I imagined the smartly dressed business women I would see in the Financial District walking to and from work with an air of confidence surrounding them. Whoever Victor was, I wanted to do my best to look as professional as possible in front of him. Right now, I was a businesswoman as well.

I thought I had no other choice but to make an embarrassing call to Oscar for him to get me a bra when I finally remembered the large, mahogany armoire next to my bed. Opening one of the two drawers underneath the cupboards I found ten neatly folded panties on one side, and a selection of bras in matching colors on the other. I decided to wear white. I wasn’t expecting them to fit me at first, but as I slipped my legs through the panties and hooked the bra in place, I knew it was an exact fit. Of course, the women at that Victorian building had measured me from head to toe. Now I knew why.

I rushed to button up the blouse and zip up the charcoal, knee-length skirt so I could admire myself in the full length mirror next to the vanity. Holy hell, I looked so much different from the girl who had been taken off the streets just yesterday. I marveled at how clean my slightly tanned skin was, how my honey-colored hair hung in waves all the way down to my waist. Perhaps I might even be considered pretty. My large, dark eyes took in the narrow slope of my skinny shoulders and my slender legs. I suppose having a meal three times a day will change my malnourished body soon enough. Thoughts could not even describe how thankful I was for that. I found myself grinning as I brushed out my long hair with a comb I found on top of the vanity. A pair of small pumps had been placed next to the door. I put them on my feet and walked around gingerly. It was my first time wearing heels and I was frightened that I would fall flat on my face.