Bluefield, West Virginia

Many years later...

I was beaming like a fool but I didn't care.

Since I was thirteen, I've had a series of odd part-time jobs on weekends and summers and I did my best to enjoy each one of them. The only one I regretted was my stint at a pet grooming store two summers ago where I sneezed my whole way through it. 

The only job I've always wanted to score was one at Books Cabin, my favorite local bookstore where I'd spent many hours and money in. I'm no academic—romance books made up the bulk of my collection. I've always been perfectly happy to slip away into a fictional world where everything ended happily ever after. It's all I ever needed out of a book.

Books Cabin had been hard to get into though. The small staff had worked there for years and turnover barely happened.

With college a few months away, I had to make one last play to get in there before I moved out of Bluefield. 

So this morning, I printed off my resume, walked over there and handed it to to Lorne who owned and managed the place. He always reminded me of old St. Nick with his silvery hair,  rounded flushed cheeks and gruff laughter. We always got along well considering I was one of his regular customers but I amped up the charm today as I begged and coaxed for just a couple of months on the payroll.

It took about an hour and a half before he said yes, reminding me that he was only taking me on because I was one of his favorite customers and that like his youngest daughter Rebecca, who was heading for NYU this fall, I was moving away.

I bounced out of the bookstore with a stupid grin on my face.

The fact that I haven't heard back yet about my scholarship applications didn't dim my excitement. It still felt like things were looking up for me. The financial assistance would be a massive help but if for some reason I can't qualify, Timothy had assured me that my college money was safely set aside to cover my tuition. The money from the bookstore would help pay some of my initial living expenses until I could score another job around campus. I was setting off for college no matter what and I had the entire summer to spend in the company of happily-ever-afters.

"Cassie!" 

I whipped around the sidewalk and saw a yellow Chevy truck swerve past a cyclist and pull over at the curb next to where I stood.

Kathy and Deanna, two of my closest high school friends, stuck their heads out of the side windows and beamed at me. Their boyfriends, Chad and Nolan, pretty much chorused a 'Yo!' my way. High school boys. 

"Where have you been?" Kathy asked with an attempt at a glare. With her sunny blond hair and bright blue eyes, she always failed at looking anything other than an angel. "We thought you were meeting us at the lake."

"We waited and waited but Nolan had to drive back home for Travis's party," Deanna added with a slight arch of her brow as if to remind me of Nolan's brother's birthday barbecue. "You're still coming to that, right?"

I smiled and nodded. "Of course. I went to apply at Books Cabin, that's why I couldn't make it earlier. Sorry. But they hired me! Can you believe it?"

Kathy groaned and rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you're spending the entire summer in that bookstore. It's our last summer before college. You've got two months left on your high school life and you're going to waste it around moldy books."

I instantly felt sheepish. 

I didn't have many friends in high school because I seemed to prefer books over people but Kathy and Deanna had stuck by me since middle school and there were many times in the past when I skipped out on them to go book-shopping or read at home instead. I liked most people in our year but to be honest, I wasn't always sold on the usual things that interested them. At times, I felt like I was decades older than the people around me but I try not to spoil everyone's fun by acting like it. So when the girls made me promise to spend this summer hitting the lake and attending all the parties we could possibly get into before we parted ways for college, I agreed.

Kathy was going to Columbia and Deanna to Boston University. I was headed to the University of Pennsylvania.

"The money's going to help me with my move because Timothy would never give me any extra for that. But I'll still have plenty of time to hang out with you, don't worry," I reassured them with the sweetest smile I could manage. "Now go and I'll meet you guys at five, okay?"

"See you later, babe," Deanna said with a wink before Nolan rolled back into traffic.

I glanced at my watch. I had half an hour to get ready before the party. I should head straight home. I had to talk to Timothy about my not being able to work for him this summer. If he'd been more like Uncle Gary, I'd find him at the family-owned pawnshop, but he wasn't and I didn't have the time to hunt him down. Besides, it was going to be an ugly conversation and I'd rather save it for when I wasn't about to go out and have a good time.

I walked for another ten minutes before reaching the charming yellow house with a white wrap-around porch on the street corner. It belonged to the Pendleys, first by my uncle and his wife, Aunt Hilda, who was my mother's sister, and then by their only child, Timothy, who was a good fifteen years older than me. 

My mother, Gabriella, died of cervical cancer when I was ten. She'd been a young widow and my aunt and uncle took me in. They weren't by any means rich but they managed well, running a small pawnshop they simply named Pendleys. Timothy had been living somewhere else at that time so I didn't see much of him until his parents' death from a car crash two years ago. 

He was currently my legal guardian and although he acted perfectly normal out in public, we did not get along well.

His gaze always lingered a little too long on me, his comments often off-color. Then there were also the dozen or so creditors calling several times a week, hounding after our unpaid bills thanks to his frequent trips to the casino and the bars where he recklessly spent whatever money the pawnshop brought in if it did at all. Hard to be sure these days as he barely shows up there to run it. I've aired my opinion once or twice about it and thankfully got no more than a cold look or a snide remark for it. He made no secret of the fact that he had absolutely respect for me—or just women in general.

I've tried to take the higher road before, persisting in being kind even when he wasn't because it was just the two of us now and life would be so much easier if we got along. But the few times I tried to look after his well-being backfired on me. He was rude and mean when he was sober but when he was wasted, I would sometimes have an assortment of "accidents" which is what he calls them the next day after he spots a bruise or two on me. I'd come close to reporting him but considering the hold he had over my life and the funds necessary for me to start over somewhere, I resentfully kept my mouth shut. 

I just had to keep busy this summer and bolt to college as soon as I could.

I came in through the front door and trudged up to my bedroom.

I stepped out of my clothes and quickly showered, flipping through my small closet for something to wear while I towel-dried my hair.

I had just plucked out a lemon yellow sundress, slightly faded on some parts but pretty enough for tonight's party, when I turned to throw it on the bed and noticed Timothy standing by my bedroom doorway.

"What the hell!" I dropped the small towel in front of me, clumsily trying to cover what my bra and underwear couldn't hide.

"You should've knocked, Timothy!" I snapped furiously at him before I managed to grab my old, terry cloth robe hanging on one of the four low posts of my bed, and shrugged it on. "What the hell do you want?"

I pressed my lips together, trying not to bite his head off with a stream of colorful language.

The way his eyes were scanning me shrewdly caused an ugly shudder down my spine. There was a calculating look to him, his mouth curling into a satisfied smirk. 

I tightened the robe's belt around me and glared at him. I had no idea he was home. It was too early. If I'd known, I would've locked my bedroom door and put my chair against it as I normally did.

"I came to tell you something," he finally answered, moving away from the doorway and walking up toward me.

I instinctively walked backwards until I was on the other side of the bed. My heart was pounding but I kept my chin firmly up as I refused to let my gaze waver from his. The last thing I wanted was for him to think that I was afraid of him.

"What?" I bit out.

"A family friend has invited you to stay with them for the summer," he said, plopping down lazily on my bed. He was a tall and wiry man with a forgettable face, seemingly harmless if you didn't know him well enough like I did. I wanted him to stay far away from me.

"I didn't know we had family friends," I answered cautiously. "And since I've never met them before, what would they want with me?"

Timothy stared into space for a few seconds before locking his gaze back on me. "A friend of your Mom's, apparently. They have a beachfront at Cobalt Bay, real stunning. I know you love the beach and that you hate not having one around here. You loved Cobalt Bay, didn't you?"

I swallowed hard.

My mother and I had lived in Cobalt Bay until just a few months before her death. It was a small city northwest of California which had grown stronger economically in the last few decades after many businesses opened their corporate offices there and rich people started building and buying multi-million-dollar properties along its once-untouched, white-sanded banks that stretched along the beautiful, cobalt-hued ocean. 

I had loved it even though all we had was a small, one-bedroom apartment in the outskirts of downtown. We had spent many weekends having a picnic by the beach and strolling by Baywalk.

"Why, after all these years, do they want to see me now?" I asked again, doing my best not to show any excitement at the prospect of returning to Cobalt Bay again. 

"Why do you ask so many damn questions?" Timothy grumbled, rolling his eyes. "They thought you were doing okay here with my parents. They had just found out about the car accident. Also, I'm trying to get them to partner with me in the pawnshop. With their investment, I can do all the repairs and upgrades I've been planning on. It would really help if we grant them this small request."

I almost snorted at that. Timothy was more likely to take their money and spend it all on a night at the casino and the strip club. Still, I was curious.

"Who are they?" 

Timothy pursed his lips and furrowed his brows as if trying to remember, "Mr. and Mrs. Vi-Victory. Their um, daughter, is the same age as you. Monica. Yeah. She'll be there too. Going to Harvard this fall, I think."

I studied Timothy for a few minutes.

"I can't," I finally said after weighing between my doubts, my newly-found hopes and the facts of my current situation. "I just took a job at Books Cabin. And I've promised to spend the summer with my friends. Plus, I have to get ready for fall—"

"They're not as important," Timothy hissed, suddenly bolting to his feet and marching toward me. 

I was backed up against a corner and could go no further when he grabbed my arm and shook me hard. A tendril of fear wrapped itself around my spine. He'd never hurt me when he was sober but I've come to expect every dumb, vicious thing from Timothy.

"I have a lot riding on this, Cassie," he ground out, his eyes flashing. "Remember that college money my folks saved up for you? I might be very tempted to dip into it if I can't find the extra capital for the pawnshop. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

My mouth fell open with a gasp as I stared at him.

He really did just threaten to cut me off from my college funds! 

The nerve!

"That money is mine," I uttered in a low, hard voice.

Timothy smiled cruelly. "No, that money was my parents', therefore, mine. Unfortunately for you, they did not think of putting it into a trust. All it is is just a tidy little savings account they promised to spend on you. But there's nothing in writing for that now, is there? If I wanted to, I could just simply drain it and close it and you can forget all your dreams of going away for college and instead stay here and work at the pawnshop. If you're lucky, I might just give you a nice little allowance if keep me happy."

Bile rose in my throat at his emphasis on the word happy and in that moment I knew that everywhere else was preferable than staying in this hell house with a man who was going to abuse me far worse than he already has sooner rather than later.

"When do I leave?" I asked in the steadiest voice I could manage.

He blinked, smiled and eased back, releasing my arm although I was already certain his fingers were going to leave me with a cuff of bruises.

"Tonight, actually," he answered, turning and walking to my closet to pull a battered magenta-colored suitcase from the rack above the row of hangers. "We have about a two-hour drive to Charleston. We stay the night there. Our flight is at six in the morning."

My panic button went off at the thought of me spending the night with Timothy at a hotel in another city, away from anyone who could help me. "Why do we have to spend the night there? We can just leave early tomorrow morning."

Timothy shook his head. "I'm not a morning person. Besides, I have some business at Charleston tonight. I'll drop you off at the hotel. It so happens there's a big poker tournament there that I can't miss so you better start packing. Bring your nicest clothes."

I was stunned at the speed things were going but all I could utter in reply was, "I don't have a lot of nice clothes."

He glanced at me with a scowl before flipping through the hangers and yanking out a couple of sundresses. He tossed them on the bed next to the yellow one I had been planning to wear tonight. "These will do. Find more of those. Bring your bikini or whatever. It's by the beach. Bring shorts and tank tops and those kinds of things. You have half an hour."

He quickly left and I sprang to my feet and shut the door.

I backed up against it, closing my eyes and pressing a hand at my wildly beating heart.

I was going to leave behind my new job, my friends, my summer plans all for Timothy's whim. I could've put my foot down and fight him about it but other than losing the money I had so dearly counted on to get me out of this house and into the next chapter of my life, there was the threat of Timothy a couple doors down. Did I really want to spend the summer dodging him when staggers home drunk or lying awake in my bed at night, dreading the sound of his footsteps heading toward my room? As he lost more money and the more aggressive the creditors became, the more irate he became. He was a ticking bomb at this point.

I glanced at the window, wondering briefly how to survive getting down from the second floor of the house. Even if I did manage to survive without breaking anything, where would I go? My friends couldn't help me; Timothy was my legal guardian. I had no verifiable proof of his threats or malicious intentions. I could run away but go where? I had nobody else. I had no money either. I barely scraped together two hundred dollars in cash since Timothy started giving me my allowance only every other week instead of weekly. I had some more in a savings account but it wouldn't tide me over for very long.

Maybe I'd be safer staying with these people, strangers they may be, I thought with a resigned sigh as I went to my closet and started taking out clothes to pack. 

I could at least avoid Timothy and get by until I leave for college by fall.

And if they turned out to be worse than my sleazy cousin, I at least knew Cobalt Bay. I could blend in, find a job there easily as there were more opportunities there having become an important financial center in the country. Timothy would never find me.

As I committed myself to packing, I absently wondered how my life turned upside down in a matter of hours and whether things were ever going to go according to plan from now on.

***

Once at the hotel, I didn't see Timothy again until dawn after he snuck into the room and plopped down on the other double bed across from mine. He reeked of cigarette smoke and alcohol. 

I thought he was going to catch an hour or two of sleep but a few minutes later, he started moving around the hotel room before finally sitting down at the desk where he'd turned on the lamp and started writing something. 

As tired and sleepy as I was, I didn't dare drift off. 

He behaved during the drive to Charleston and seemed to be in a good mood actually but that didn't stop me from clutching my small flick knife under the sheets.

An hour later, I decided to get up.

He barely spared me a glance as I grabbed some clothes and went into the bathroom to shower and change. He didn't so much say a word during our drive to the airport except when we stopped by a McDonald's drive-thru for some breakfast.

It was a long flight.

After two connections, we arrived mid-afternoon in San Francisco and sat in the boarding lounge for about an hour waiting for the puddle-jumper flight up the coast to Cobalt Bay. 

Despite my hunger and exhaustion, I had not once glanced away from the window of the taxi, too busy in absorbing the sights and sounds of the Cobalt Bay I remembered from more than seven years ago. It was familiar although not quite the same, the skyline now outlining tall and shiny skyscrapers set against the backdrop of the glittering sea and clear open skies.

All that Timothy told me about the family I was staying with was that they lived in the poshest part of Seaside, the exclusive, beachfront neighborhood where the multi-million dollar houses stood proudly. It was at least a half hour drive from downtown but as soon as we rolled up the hilly, scenic drive, I couldn't help but sigh happily.

I loved the ocean and I mourned its loss after I moved to Bluefield. 

Despite all the things spiraling out of control in my life, I was happy for a moment.

Soon, we were going up a more private road, steep and winding along the side of the cliff. 

Then we passed an elegant sign of stainless steel letters on a black metal plate that said Cove Manor.

"They must be ridiculously rich," I murmured as I craned my neck to see if I could spot the house in the distance but the taxi went through a few more curves.

"Ridiculously rich," Timothy echoed with an almost bitter smile on his face. "And knows it too."

I was going to say that he wasn't encouraging me with that comment but I forgot instantly once my eyes caught sight of a portion of the enormous mansion gleaming white against the late afternoon sun. 

The taxi stopped by the immense, white wrought-iron gate and Timothy quickly slipped out and unloaded my suitcase from the trunk.

Confused why were unloading outside of the gate, I stepped out and watched my cousin walk to what looked like an intercom device of some sort by the side of the gate. He was speaking to it in a hushed voice.

I took my suitcase and held tight to my light blue, leather cross-body bag, an old birthday gift from my aunt and uncle from three years ago, and slowly walked to the edge of the cliff where the mansion stood, staying behind the protective railing that ran all the way down to the bottom of the driveway.

"Cassie, come here!"

I turned and found Timothy beckoning me. He now stood next to the passenger side of the taxi and a curious expression was on his face. He seemed... nervous.

He gripped my shoulder and bent low as if he wanted to whisper to my ear.

I froze, careful not to move in any way that might incline my head towards his. I so do not want to be kissed by him. Ugh.

"Cassie, listen," he started, his voice low and serious. "It's time you pay back this family. Do whatever he wants. Don't question him. Don't fight him. It's for your own good. You think you're afraid of me. Wait till you meet him. Don't ever try to run away or get help. This can only end badly for you if you do."

I blinked, as if in a daze, unsure of whether I was hearing Timothy right.

"What are you—"

"Give this to him," he interrupted, pushing a folded note into my cold, frozen hand. "I'll pick you up at the end of summer. Don't fight it, okay? It was inevitable anyway. Either him or me. Remember, you have college riding on this. Don't disappoint me."

And before the truth could slam into me, Timothy leapt into the back of the taxi and sped away.

The impact hit me with a force that sent me gasping for breath.

Oh, my God. 

He just abandoned me—not in the care of a family friend he'd made up but a man—a man who was several times more dangerous than my rotten cousin!

"Breathe, Cassie. Breathe," I told myself as I closed my eyes momentarily, hoping that when I opened them, I would find myself in my bedroom, surrounded by my beloved books, safe and sound from this nightmare.

"Miss!"

Shit. This wasn't a terrible dream.

I opened my eyes and turned to see an older, stocky man in a crisp black suit and matching tie, his head shaved, his face square and tanned. As he walked towards me, I spied the ear piece and figured he was security.

"Where is your companion?" he asked in a flat, businesslike voice, swiftly assessing me and my luggage. 

I started to speak but my voice came out a squeak at first I had to clear my throat and try again. "He's gone."

"What's your name?" the man asked. 

"C-cassandra. Collins. Everyone calls me Cassie."

He frowned, his brows knitting together as he looked around and glanced briefly at the now-empty driveway. Timothy must have just buzzed the gate and ran off. It didn't look like we were expected at all.

"What is your business here, Ms. Collins?" he asked again.

I opened my mouth but quickly shut it, realizing I had no idea why I was here in the first place. I could tell them Timothy's lie but I doubted that would solve the puzzle.

My hands twitched and I remembered the note Timothy wedged into my fist.

"I have a note," I said with the steadiest voice I could force out, slowly holding up the letter.

I watched as he flipped it over, catching the initials Timothy hastily scrawled on one side that said S. V..

The guard didn't open it though. 

Another guard, a tall, blond one in a very similar uniform, came through the gate with a black labrador on a leash.

I tensed at the sight of the canine, wondering if they were going to order it to maul me to death, but all it did was glance at me with its dark, almost knowing eyes, before sniffing around me and my bags.

Satisfied, the second guard pulled the dog back.

"Let's get you inside then, Ms. Collins," the first guard said, motioning me to follow him. "Leave the bags. They'll be taken care of."

"I'll have Morris track him, Jennison," the blond guard said to the other man who must be Jennison, before turning to disappear through some path around the grounds.

I didn't have the time to marvel at my surroundings, too nervous at the circumstances that were unfolding.

I thought I had managed a temporary escape from my maggot of a cousin yet here I was, in the mercy of a mysterious man who seemed to have gained me as prize.

What he planned to do with me, I couldn't allow myself to imagine.

I glanced over my shoulder, longing for the eclipsing sight of the gate. 

Don't ever try to run away or get help. This can only end badly for you if you do.

I silently shuddered at the gravity of Timothy's warning, fear overriding my building fury at his deception.

"Please take a seat, Ms. Collins," Jennison said, motioning to an elegant, Victorian-style sofa swathed in deep blue velvet. "I'll be a few minutes. Mrs. Simmons will bring you some refreshment. Excuse me."

I stared after the guard with a cultured speech more refined than that of some rich folks I've come across before seating myself and finally glancing around the bright and airy living room I'd been escorted into. The windows were large and the ceilings high, bringing in the light and azure beauty of the sea the house overlooked. The pale, blue-gray walls and white and metal gray accents were simple yet tasteful, almost deceiving an observer to think of casual comfort when each item in the vast room was of the finest, most expensive quality.

I wasn't seated long when a short and plump middle-aged woman in a simple housekeeper's uniform arrived with a friendly smile on her face. 

"Hello, Ms. Collins. Welcome to Cove Manor," she greeted with a slight, courteous dip of her head. "I'm Mrs. Simmons, the housekeeper. May I get you anything to drink or snack on?"

"Just some water, thank you," I replied, reciprocating the smile. 

Then all of a sudden, my stomach roiled quite audibly, reminding me that Timothy hadn't bothered to get us something to eat when we landed. The in-flight meal of a meager ham and cheese sandwich and boxed apple juice was long gone.

My cheeks burned hot but the housekeeper just flashed me an understanding smile and promised to be right back.

Five minutes later, she arrived with a tray laden with two tall glasses, one of water and another of what looked like lemonade, and small plates filled with an assortment of biscuits, cookies, cheese cubes, cold cuts and some grapes and strawberries.

She encouraged me to eat well and lots before excusing herself.

I was just nibbling on a raisin scone when I heard footsteps and a murmur of voices.

"—damn him... babysitting... enough things to worry about... he thinks she'll be my slave..."

I froze at the last phrase I caught, the scone pausing on its way to my open mouth.

The voices abruptly stopped and I looked up and saw Jennison come through the door, a step behind the man who must've been grumbling on his way over.

I didn't remember to shut my mouth in time.

"You're staring shamelessly," was the first thing he said to me, his mouth, wide-set and well-shaped, curved up on one corner in condescension. His voice was deep and dark with a faint trace of a British accent.

I snapped my mouth shut, my hand holding the half-eaten scone dropping to my lap. 

I didn't stop staring though.

I couldn't.

Standing well over six feet, almost six foot four or so, he had broad shoulders and strong arms, flexing with muscles under the white dress shirt he wore open around the throat and rolled up to his elbows. His long, powerful legs were clad in soft, classic jeans that he paired up with simple brown leather shoes.

His thick hair was a silky, dark chocolate brown, its soft waves and curls tapering just behind his ears and neck. At a slight change of angle, streaks of burnished gold caught in the light. His face was strong and square with high cheekbones and a pronounced jaw hinting at a cleft chin. 

He had an aristocratic nose, dark, thick brows and a set of the greenest eyes I've ever seen, like two emeralds glinting through the dark frame of long, sweeping lashes that were too long for a man.

You think you're afraid of me. Wait till you meet him.

He was dangerous, alright. 

He could be handsome but his beauty was austere and sinister that handsome was too mild a word. 

At my tender age of seventeen, I've seen my small share of cute guys, mostly from school. Although I've observed from afar, I've learned to appreciate the male specimen. The only time I've come intimately close to one was with Kyle Bobson who was in the swim team and boasted one set of the few, beautiful, broad male shoulders on campus. We dated for six months but mutually parted ways when he realized that I wasn't ready for his advanced intimacy level. 

However hot Kyle was, he would pale next to this stranger whose name I suspected had the initials S.V..

I cleared my throat and calmly put the scone down on the plate, brushing my fingers lightly on the table napkin before setting it aside.

I slowly rose and dipped my head politely. "Hi."

His smirk held for a few seconds as his eyes narrowed at me, before it broke into a full, rakish grin. An unfamiliar tingle rode up my spine.

"Jennison, leave us," he briefly commanded without glancing at the guard who promptly turned on his heel and left the room.

I tried not to swallow the lump in my throat as my heart quickened, aware of the unnameable energy in the air. 

This man, no awkward teenage boy, was doing something swift and devastating to my sensibilities. 

"Cassandra Collins," he finally spoke after a minute of his silent yet undisguised appraisal of me. 

"I apologize for showing up at your doorstep when I am clearly unexpected and unwelcome, and you may not believe me but I don't have much of an explanation to enlighten you," I started, aware I was rambling.

Then, I hesitated. "I'm afraid I don't even know who you are, sir."

"Splendid," he said with a snort, clearly unconvinced. "Did Pendley write your entire script? Because if he did, I'm warning you to scrap it right now. I want to know what you think you're doing here and what stupid, little scheme that bastard put you up to."

I was doing my best to remain polite and unperturbed and handle the situation as calmly and painlessly as possible but his sniping comments rubbed raw. 

My hands clenched into fists on my side.

"If you think for one second that I'm here as a willing accomplice to Timothy's maggot-brained idea, let me assure you of the opposite," I ground out, glaring at him fully. "My cousin, hellspawn that he is, no disrespect to my beloved aunt and uncle, plucked me out of what would've been an idyllic summer with fabrications that a family friend wanted me here and that to appease them would secure him the financial back up he needs to hang on to the pawnshop his parents unwisely left him in charge of. At the last minute, after he deposited me at your gate, he finally dropped the act and instead offered a mouthful of warnings to embrace my fate. What that fate is, I trust you to enlighten me."

His brows rose in surprise, his green eyes glinting with amusement.

After a second, he handed me the slightly crumpled note my cousin had penned.

Trying to steady my fingers, I slowly straightened the hotel stationery out and took a deep breath.

To Sebastian Vice,

This is my cousin Cassie. A real, pretty thing, don't you think?

I saw you look at her picture on your recent visit. She's prime goods, very young and I'm certain a virgin. Break her in for me, will you? Don't worry, she'll be more than happy to oblige your wants and needs for the entire summer. If she isn't, I'm sure you can use the excuse to discipline her.

She doesn't clear my debt to you but I'm hoping she will keep you distracted enough to grant me an extension. Give me six months. I'll have it by then.

I'll collect her at the end of summer. 

Indulge in her till then.

T. Pendley

The breath I didn't realize I'd been holding came out in a slow hiss as I dropped the note in revulsion as if it had turned into a handful of worms.

"So I'm a virgin sacrifice," I blurted out before I could stop myself, my eyes lifting to lock with his. 

He nodded, his mouth curling into a crude smile that nevertheless still managed to send a ripple through me. "And I'm the beast privileged to ravish you. How very archaic."

I muttered a silent curse, my eyes briefly closing before I raised them heavenward as if I could solicit some divine intervention.

"My question is," he started, walking in lazy circles around me, not too close but close enough that I could smell sandalwood, mint and pure masculinity. "Did he think a presumed virgin is worth a fortune? Because that's what he owes me, sweet, and no offense, but I can pay for a virgin, had I really wanted one, for a lot less."

I ignored the insult that was somewhere in that statement and groped for a lifeline, no matter what it will cost me, literally.

"I have some money set aside," I said before wincing at the reminder that I didn't actually physically have it. "Well, I don't have it with me. It's for school. My aunt and uncle provided it for me. Timothy can give it to you. That's what he held over my head to get me here but you can have it if you'll just let me go and forget about this whole thing."

He blinked at me and then threw his head back laughing.

I scowled. "It's about sixty thousand. I should think that's a lot of money."

He plopped down on a plush armchair, his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms spread out lazily over the back of the chair. "It's not change but I'm afraid it barely scratches the surface of the amount Pendley owes me. Also, I hate to break the news to you but that money is long gone. Your cousin is at the brink of bankruptcy. All his remaining assets are tied up with that. I doubt he can replenish your piggy bank for you."

"Shit," I gasped out, turning my head away as scalding tears stung my eyes. I blinked them back, trying to breathe steadily, despite the hollow ache in my chest that seemed to have been carved out by his statement. 

I wasn't surprised.

I was mad as hell and regretted the future that was now quickly slipping out of my reach, but I wasn't surprised.

"I'm sorry."

I turned to look at him and saw the pity in his eyes and hated him for it.

The dam inside me overflowed and anger was coursing through me like molten lava. 

My fists curled in an effort to stem the flow.

"How much does my cousin owe you?" 

His eyes watched me curiously. "He owes me a rare piece of art valued around two million dollars."

I gasped again at the exorbitant amount as if hearing it physically hurt my ears.

"And just how did he end up owing you that much money?" I demanded in disbelief.

Sebastian shrugged. "I don't know how Pendley managed to worm his way into a private, high-stakes poker party I was at in Las Vegas but he lost to me. Actually, he enticed me to play that last round with the promise of a rare painting I've been looking for that his father had come across with in the pawnshop. I think he'd hoped to win that last round and recoup his losses. But he lost again and I let him walk away. That was two months ago. He'd been hard to reach since then so I paid him a visit while I was at Charleston a few days ago. He'd apparently already sold it a while back before he even offered it to me as stake. He was supposed to retrieve it for me but here you are instead, offered up as interest while he's unable to pay the principal."

"Well, I'm not paying his debt," I replied evenly, holding his intense green gaze. "I'm not here to spread my legs open for you. I'm not—"

"How old are you?"

I blinked at his question. "Seventeen."

He frowned. "Don't lie. It's enough for you to be advertised as a virgin. I don't need more embellishments."

"I'm not lying!" I snapped. 

He studied me for a moment before closing his eyes and sighing wearily. "Bloody hell. What a nightmare."

Then he opened his eyes again and perused me in the most perturbing manner, as if his eyes could peel off all my protective layers, one after another.

"You surely don't behave like someone that young. Yet you are."

And in that pregnant pause between us, we understood the unspoken implications.

I was considered underaged here in California and I was just handed to him for sex.

"How old are you?" I asked, actually curious.

He arched a brow at me. "Too old for you, that's for certain."

I studied him. 

He was definitely older. The light in his eyes was ancient but he was probably in his late twenties. 

Yes, definitely too old.

But there was that tendril of sensation that pooled in the pit of my stomach—an excitement for wicked possibilities.

Control yourself, Cassandra, a warning voice in my head said. He could definitely be the beast that would ravish you.

And of course, I didn't want that.

Did I?

For a virgin, I didn't expect to recognize it but the ache spreading around my body couldn't be anything else but lust.

When Kyle touched me intimately, the sensations hinted at it and might have progressed had I let him continue further but what I was feeling right now, standing in front of this dark prince of a man whose eyes observed me with unconcealed interest, was full-blown desire.

I shivered.

"Are you married?"

He laughed harshly. "No. Never."

"So what are you going to do now?" 

"Send you home. What else can I do?" he answered in a dry, ironic tone. "Your cousin may be a moron to think this a brilliant idea but I have more important things to do than babysit you, and other uncomplicated women who can easily provide what you were sent here to offer."

"I don't doubt it but there's no need to sound so disinterested," I grumbled, glowering at him. "I'm aware I don't have much to offer but don't forget that I didn't come here volunteering to charm you."

He swiftly got up and reached me in two easy, long strides and I tensed up but didn't take a step back.

I'm five three on my best posture but with him so close, I had to look all the way up to meet his gaze. 

His green eyes burned with startling heat but I didn't back up an inch.

His gaze lowered to the rest of my face and I fought every urge to close my eyes and let my senses take over.

"You look tired. Mrs. Simmons will prepare you a room for the night. Tomorrow, you'll be on a flight back to Bluefield."

Then he backed away abruptly and I instantly felt the loss of his body heat.

I stared at his back as he started to walk away. 

I should leap and twirl and clap my hands to realize that he was releasing me but I stopped cold.

He was sending me back to Bluefield to live with Timothy who would most likely rape me and then kill me, not necessarily in that order.

After all, I'd just ruined his plans. 

I didn't know much about Sebastian Vice until today but I knew enough to agree with Timothy that he wasn't a man to cross. 

Timothy was going to pay and not just for duping him about the painting.

He would pay too for sending Sebastian Vice a sacrificial lamb that was too young and rebellious to feast on.

He mostly seemed disinterested but I didn't miss the heated darkening of his expression before he learned my age.

He didn't like being enticed with a meal he couldn't enjoy especially since he seemed like the man who got everything he wanted.

May Timothy rot in hell for what I'm about to do.

"Sebastian."

He froze at my use of his name but he said nothing to correct it. 

I would probably use Mr. Vice under different circumstances but with the conversation we've just had, I couldn't help the familiarity.

"Can I stay?" I asked, the slight tremor in my voice betraying some of my nervousness. 

Slowly, he turned around, his eyes unreadable as he raised his brows in question.

"I mean, can I stay in a different capacity?" I rushed out before I could change his mind and before he could interpret my meaning differently. "I'm a good worker. I can stay and help with the house. I won't be in your way. Maybe you can consider it my alternative way of fulfilling what has been promised to you."

His eyes narrowed. "I doubt that I would get the same level of satisfaction from that bargain."

No doubt my face turned crimson at that not-so-subtle double meaning but I refused to be cowed. 

"I'm afraid that's all I can offer," I replied indignantly. "I have no money, no inclination to play the virgin sacrifice and nowhere to go. Going home will only guarantee my punishment for foiling Timothy's plans and although we're related by blood, I wouldn't put anything past him. Believe it or not, I think I'll be safer here."

"You couldn't be more wrong," he said softly, his eyes traveling up and down on me.

I stiffened but kept hold on my calm resolve. "Familiarity is more dangerous if you ask me. There's nothing like being caught off guard by someone you ought to trust. At least with you, I know to watch my back."

"It's not an option," he firmly said. "I refuse to be saddled with a teenager who clearly doesn't know what's good for her. Don't confuse me for a charitable relative."

"I'm not. I'm treating you like the businessman that you are," I retorted, issuing him a challenge with my glare. "You don't just give free passes, do you? I'm here, your painting isn't. You might as well get something out of me. Why lose it all?"

His eyes hardened and he turned to fully face me. "Don't think I'm giving Pendley a free pass by sending you back. I intend to acquire my payment by any means possible. Meanwhile, I'm not foolish enough to grant his cousin free food and lodging. I am a businessman. I know how to prevent further losses."

I didn't back down.

"Oh, come on. You don't look like you're pinching pennies. Just look at this place." I swept an arm around dramatically to highlight his expensively decorated living room. "I don't think that's the real reason you don't want me around. Maybe you just can't stand being constantly tempted to take what you were offered as payment."

This time, his green eyes flared with heat and I fought not to swallow at my sudden nervousness.

I was never a natural flirt but I'll be damned if I've ever heard a more blatant invitation.

He didn't say anything at first, his searing gaze once again moving over me and I did my best not to squirm under his inspection. 

I never caused jaw-dropping reactions in my life but I wasn't sad-looking either.

My petite frame was proportionate, bordering on curvy, with full breasts the boys were forever ogling, and well-shaped hips. The lemon yellow dress Timothy insisted I change into after he saw me step out of the hotel bathroom in jeans and a shirt this morning, did well in showcasing my figure despite the red Chuck Taylors I paired it with. Timothy wasn't happy about that but I told him I had no intention of traveling in heels.

My hair was alright. It could be great, my friends told me, but I was happy to let the long and thick, dark auburn mass hang down to my waist or pull it into a high ponytail.

I was called pretty occasionally, on my best days when I bothered to fix myself up, but the rest of my heart-shaped face was ordinary like my dark brown eyes, small, perky nose and full mouth. The only real interesting features I had were the light smattering of freckles just over the bridge of my nose that I couldn't erase no matter how hard I tried and a pair of dimples that showed even with my faintest smile.

I wasn't in the same league as the women who probably surrounded a man like Sebastian Vice but he could do worse than me, I guess.

Not that I worry he won't be interested in me.

It's not like I have any real intention of competing for his amorous attentions, as my romance novels sometimes call it.

God. I wish he'd at least stop looking like he was seriously thinking about it.

Whatever emotions he'd given free reign on his face disappeared completely. The only thing his expression now conveyed was indifference, if there was such a specific look for it. 

"I want you out my way," he said in a hard voice. "If you're going to force yourself on my charity, leave it out of my notice. Stay if you have to but I don't want to be bothered by it. Understood?"

I swallowed and nodded. "Yes. Thank you."

With one last lingering look, he turned and walked away.

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A/N: What do you think of the story so far? I cried a lot when I was writing this story. It may just be me but give it a chance. Read on. Vote and comment please as the reason I'm putting this out here in Wattpad is to get feedback on this. It's something I wrote offline and one of the ones dearer to me.

Thank you!!! 

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