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~ Prologue ~
Parents. The people wholove you the most in the entire world. Whose job in life is to protect you from all the nastiness in the world. To keep you safe. And to treasure you beyond belief.
That’s what they are supposed to do anyway. But not my parents. My parents gave me away like some worthless possession to a man they owed a debt to, and now I am his captive, his slave if you will.
Alexander is an enigma. Someone incredibly difficult to work out. Sometimes he looks at me and I can see the sorrow behind his eyes, and other times I feel immense hatred piercing the depths of my soul.
I should hate him. After all, he keeps me here, locked away like one of his many priceless artefacts in this house of his. But instead I crave him, I crave his touch, knowing his strong body knows exactly what to do with a woman like me. I shouldn’t want him, and he has given me no reason to think that he feels the same way too, yet I can’t help but wake from dreams of him at night, totally captivated by him.
So, what’s a girl to do? Do I stay or do I go? To be completely honest with you… I don’t know.
~ Chapter One ~
Rebecca
“Oh, honey. That’s definitely the one. The black makes your skin appear even fairer. The way it fits around your breasts looks amazing. The men won’t be able to take their eyes off you.” My mother peers around the high-end boutique, finally sighting the store assistant. “We’ll take this one,” she calls out.
“Of course, Mrs. Kennedy.” She smiles too largely for her face, an incredibly false one that my mother doesn’t notice. She is used to people sucking up to her. That’s what happens when you pretty much own the entire town.
“I’ll just go take it off then,” I call over my shoulder, as I disappear into the large changing room. I look at myself in the full-length mirror in front of me and I agree that the fit of the dress is lovely. The one-shouldered black ballgown clings to my breasts then flares out in an A line from my ribs. The glitter in the overskirt will sparkle like crazy in the lighting at the charity gala we are attending tonight.
I slip out of the beautiful gown and redress in the clothes I’m comfiest in—well-worn jeans and a loose T-shirt—before returning with the dress over my arm. “I’ll take that for you, Miss Kennedy.”
“It’s Rebecca,” I call out to the shop assistant as she heads to the back storeroom in search of a protective bag.
She returns a few minutes later, my dress now wrapped carefully in a heavy-duty black canvas bag. My mother pays for the exorbitant purchase and we leave a moment later, heading outside to hop straight into our waiting car. “Well, that was a successful trip. No one will miss you in a crowd now,” she croons.
“I don’t want to be noticed, Mom. I don’t even want to go,” I shoot back at her.
“Rebecca Alison Kennedy. These galas are a good way for your father to talk to all the people he does business with. We also get a lot of donations to keep our company going in the right direction. Without these events we wouldn’t be able to live in the home we do, or go out and buy you a new Vera Wang dress every time we throw a party.”
Dad started a computer company when he was in university. He makes the processors that gaming computers tend to use. The companies who create games also seek out Dad to help with the processing times of their programs, then he helps speed them up and other back-end techno mumbo jumbo, that frankly I’m not the least bit interested in. I mean sure, because of Dad’s success I’ve been able to do pretty much whatever I want, but I have no desire to go into the family business.
“I don’t need a new dress every time, Mother. Why couldn’t I just wear one of my others? I only ever wear them once, then they get tucked away in the back of my closet, except for the occasions that Kelly comes along.”
She clutches the string of pearls hanging from her neck, the overwhelming shock written all over her face. Marie Kennedy is the quintessential trophy wife. She dresses the part to a T. From her impeccably made-up face and perfectly styled blonde curls to the designer clothing she wears, she screams rich, kept housewife. “Rebecca, you could never wear the same thing twice. What would the guests think?” She shakes her head. “Besides, one of these days one of the men at these events will take your fancy.”
“Mom, they don’t care what I wear, and I doubt they even remember what I wore to the last gala. I also doubt that any of the men who come tonight will garner my attention. I’m not looking for anyone.”
“They might not remember, honey, but you get photographed every time you attend one of these events.” She sips at a bottle of water she pulls from her handbag, looking me over before continuing. “We know that Zac broke your heart, but that was twelve months ago now. It’s time you got back out there and found your future husband. You’re running out of time now that you’re thirty, you know.” Mom reaches over and takes my hand. She has no idea that I’m already out there, having enjoyed a few short relationships since Zac. They all decided they wanted some sort of commitment from me and I didn’t want to get locked down with anyone, so I broke it off.
“It’s fine, Mom, you don’t need to worry. I’m completely over Zac.” I’m rewarded with a smile, but it soon begins to fade, no doubt from whatever has popped into her mind.
“There is one man coming tonight who your father and I have never met. He sent through his acceptance late last night. We sent the invite purely to be courteous even though he has never attended any of the other times we have invited him. We were actually hoping he wouldn’t attend.”
“Why didn’t you want him to attend, Mom?”
“No reason in particular,” she says before gazing out her side window. Her way of shutting down the conversation. I get to wondering who this man is and why he is coming. And why would she be so worried at one of Daddy’s business associates coming to a gala all about raising more money for Daddy’s charity—the one he created purely as a tax write off for his company.
Once we are home, I head straight to my bedroom and hang the dress in my closet, then throw myself onto my bed and reach over to the nightstand to pick up a book from one of my favorite authors. I open it and start reading a few chapters, escaping into the world of erotic romance. I’m woken sometime later by someone shaking me. “Pumpkin. It’s time to start getting ready.” My eyes flutter open, focusing on my father’s face beaming down at me.
“Well, well, well. Don’t you look dapper in a tuxedo?” I take his hand as he helps me to sit up.
“I’ll never get used to these penguin suits your mother always dresses me in. Why can’t I just go in jeans and a collared shirt?” he asks. My father is a handsome man for his age, with sandy-blond hair with its fair share of silver highlights, and the beginning of laughter lines around his pale blue eyes. I get told often that I look more like my father than my mother, but especially so in the eyes.
“Tell me about it. Just wait till you see the dress Mom chose for me today.” His smile tells me everything I need to know. Mom has told him absolutely every detail from our shopping trip, especially what I will be wearing.
“I’ll leave you to get ready. We will be downstairs waiting for you. Don’t be too long, pumpkin.” He kisses my cheek before turning and leaving my room.
