ONE
No matter how hard I try to search through my so-called principles, what he offers renders me submissive to my innermost desire. Frankly, I’m not quite innocent. I’ve made tough and dark choices before, some not worth advertising out loud, and I can’t say this is far worse than the others, but it’s still new.
A hundred thousand dollars, Ara! You need it, don’t you?
Like a whisper of the devil, I can hear the voice chanting in my head, smooth yet conniving, unfurling the list of needs those dirty bills can fulfill once I get ahold of them.
Perhaps Isla can finally get into the ballet academy she badly wants to join, and Jake can get the supercomputer for school and other projects he usually does that I barely understand. Food expenses, school allowance, water, electricity, and...what else? Rent? Oh yes, the fucking rent! I need to make that intolerable Miss Antoinette shut her lousy mouth before she knocks on my door again like a drunk deliveryman.
Despite my endless needs, the stakes on this proposal are too high. Even for me.
But I’m not a stranger to the dark world I’ve known for the last seven years, either. I can smell the lurking danger by just being here at this particular moment, yet I’m not as afraid as I should be. Something is wrong with me—I’ve always felt it—but I know there’s nothing I can do to fix it because this is just about the payment.
The money.
And I think I can do anything to get it.
“Have you made up your mind, Miss Lincoln?” That nerve-wracking voice snaps my trance via the air pod I’m wearing, a stern reminder that I’m yet to give him the answer to his illicit proposal.
I let out a warm breath through my nose, working around my bearing.
“What do you want me to do, Mister Castle?” I ask nervously, my fingers a bit clammy despite the Air Condition running perfectly in the presidential suite I’m in as his temporary personal assistant.
Yeah, it all began with that. He’s my employer and I’m his part-time employee. Office Romance? Not really, for ours is a bit unconventional.
A story for another time.
“What do I want you to do? Well, I’ll take that as a yes,” he replies coolly, a subtle hint of triumph lacing his voice.
I want to roll my eyes but I’m too pitiful even to dare. He’s the boss here. He’s got me under his intricate web of dark demands in exchange for a tempting sum of money I can only dream to make on the course of long months of torture.
“Of course. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here, would I?” I ignore the speed of my racing heart and the tight knots in my tummy by lifting my head high as though he’s right here with me, watching me, while in reality, I don’t even know what he looks like.
It’s a cyber relationship that we have, as a boss and his assistant. No meetings. Only calls. Weird, I know, but it never mattered.
When I least expect it, I hear him say, “I need you to take off your clothes.”
“Excuse me?” My heart leaps from the sudden exasperation he’s inflicted upon me. “Take off my clothes? What the fuck do—”
“Language, Miss Lincoln!” he snaps quietly. “You agreed to comply with whatever I ask you to... correct me if I’m wrong?”
I roll my eyes.
“And I think we need to work pretty hard on those incorrigible eyes of yours. They seem to have a mind of their own, don’t they?” he adds.
“Well, there’s no way I’m taking off my clothes like a whore you think I am!” I recoil, even though deep inside I think I already am by being here right now whether willingly or not. “I did agree to accept any of your requests but I think we do need to discuss the depth of your sovereignty over me, don’t you think?”
After all, we all have limits.
He doesn’t respond. His silence wilts my confidence, and fear clouds my mind that he may probably choose to call it off altogether, and truthfully, I need the money desperately. I know I do. But I’m also aware that this man may be a sexual predator, but how can I strip naked to someone I’ve never met physically? Isn’t this madness?
“Miss Lincoln,” he calls gently, interrupting my inner thoughts once again. “I’m not a pervert who takes pleasure in staring at nude women if that’s what your intelligence whispers to your brain.”
“Then why the hell are you asking me to undress?” I raise my voice, despite his clear detest for my constant revulsion.
Silence ensues for a while until he answers, “It’s because I can.”
“Oh, really now? So, it’s a game of power? You just order people to do unreasonable things just because you can?” Sneering, I strut toward the window, all in an attempt to quell the blast of anxiety, anger, and other sorts of feelings he makes me feel so effortlessly.
It’s still bright outside, and more tourists are flooding in and out of the Imperial Palace Hotel, wearing ecstatic faces. Las Vegas is a mass of urban activities and unlimited leisure, and it’s always vacation time here. From up here, I can see the cityscape bathed with a radiant silver hue married with turquoise blue clouds in the sky.
“It’s stated in the NDA,” he proceeds, “everything that happens between us is confidential.”
“How assuring.” I roll my eyes again. “But the NDA protects only you, Mister Castle! What about me? What if you’re recording everything right now and then you use it to your advantage later, huh? FYI, it’s already creepy enough that you know who I am, and I don’t know who you are. And even creepier that you can see me, and I can’t see you. So, no, I’m not doing this!”
I hear him sigh heavily. “Then what do you want to do, Miss Lincoln? For the second time, I’m giving you a chance to lay down another term of yours. I told you I’m a fair man. What is it that you want to be added or removed from our agreement? Choose wisely,” he says calmly, and I’m surprised by this little generosity from his seemingly cold heart—does he even have one?
What do I want? I gulp tightly, thinking of many things I want from him right now. I want to understand why he picked me to be his call girl, the one who’s available for him at any time he wishes to have me during his stay here, while there are women more gorgeous and willing to do this without any second thoughts and bargains.
I need to know what exactly he wants from me other than watching me strip naked as though he’s a pervert. Alas, I know he’s not here just for sex. I can feel it. It’s hard to explain how but I know there’s more to him than he lets on. I dare say I’ve encountered horny rich men before and he doesn’t sound like a typical one.
“You’re losing your chances, Miss Lincoln. Overthinking is a downfall for one’s intelligence,” he remarks. He always knows what to say! “Do you want another day to think?” He’s mocking me now.
“No!” I stand straight, head high once again. Sucking a deep breath, I mutter, “I want to see your face, Mister Castle. I don’t want to do this on the phone anymore! Well, unless you’re uglier than I already imagined.” The last part turns incoherent; hopefully, he didn’t hear.
Deafening silence fills the room until I hear his very loud laughter. Okay, I’m surprised he can laugh at all and not just snort and smirk and God knows what else he usually does.
“You think I’m ugly, Miss Lincoln?”
Well, I’ve imagined him a million men by just thinking of his face. He may be tolerable to look at—hot even—if his thick and very deep voice counts. But does it even matter? Not really. He’s just business. Even so, I still need to see him first.
“Well, unfortunately, that’s the only thing I can’t give you, I’m afraid,” he says simply. “You can keep imagining me however you want, Miss Lincoln, because what I look like is inconsequential.”
“Why?” I hate his guts.
“Not until I’m sure you and I are on the same page because I can tell you’re still indecisive about this,” he replies and I feel my chest tightening. “But we can stop using phones; that is certainly negotiable, Miss Lincoln.”
“Wonderful.” I wander lazily toward the built-in executive office space harboring a desk and a set of chairs. “Well, fine. You’re the boss!”
“Tonight at seven, I want you back here. I have an important meeting right now so I’m gonna hang up,” he states.
“What? You’re leaving?”
“Are you disappointed, Miss Lincoln?” He sounds amused.
Jerk!
“No! Not even close, Mister Castle!” I deny it profusely, which is a big lie.
Or not? I don’t know.
He laughs again, softly. “Later. I have something for you that I’m sure you’ll like. Be a good girl.” He hangs up and I feel like cold water is splashed on my face.
What the heck has just happened?
I loiter around the sleek hotel room, every piece of furniture and decoration a hint of luxury that doesn’t belong to me. Independent, seating area with a satellite TV and a minibar, then to the master bedroom rife with all comforts—the view, the walk-in closet, and a huge king-size bed.
Slowly I stroll toward the bed, my head full of thoughts, my mind frayed but still undecided.
“Tonight at seven,” I murmur, trying to weigh the magnitude of what’s to come.
