AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“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.
-3-
Even though the walls were cathedral-like, the air in the room seemed in short supply. Richard had dropped her off with her luggage at Boston’s home — was home the right word for the massive structure? — and quickly deposited her into Boston’s bedroom suite, which, honestly, looked like a small apartment, complete with a kitchenette.
“Boston wants you to wait for him here. Do not wander. The house is very large and you’re likely to get lost. Stay put. You can watch television or read. There is a full library attached to the bedroom, through that door.”
At the mention of the library, Julianna recalled Boston’s admission that the last time he’d been in there, he’d been having sex, not reading and she tried to push the image away. “Thanks,” she murmured, caught by the insane desire to beg Richard to stay and keep her company even though the older man was hardly the companionable type. She watched Richard leave and then once she was closed into the room, she suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to run back from where she came. Screw this. But then Tom came to mind, lying helpless in that stupid, awful bed, wasting away from depression as much as his injury and she knew she would do whatever it took to get Tom the help he needed.
Well, one thing was for certain, Boston Kincaid believed in surrounding himself with the finer things in life. She wasn’t well-versed in priceless art but she was going to wager a guess that the stuff on the walls weren’t Wal-Mart specials. Not exactly her cup of tea, though. As beautiful as everything was, there was an impersonal nature to it all. Honestly, not a single personal photograph? Her small apartment was crammed with candid pictures and fun mementos of good times with friends. It struck her as very sad until she realized what was happening and she rebelled. No, she refused to feel bad for the “poor rich boy.” He was the enemy.
The enemy who was about to take her virginity, a small voice reminded her and she shivered.
