Page 8 of The Billionaire's Buy-In

“He’s not giving up any info on her. Must mean it’s serious.”

“Something like that.” I’m deliberately vague once more, still typing on my computer, effectively dismissing them. I’m allowed some secrets. And for right now, Abbie is my secret to keep. Also, Ty wouldn’t approve of the fact I’m messing with Grace’s best friend.

“Don’t worry, dude,” Ash tells Ty confidently. “Challenge accepted. I’m on it. It appears my plans have just been made for the weekend.”

I ignore him, knowing full well what that means.

“I’ll take my regular suite and all the comps,” he demands, knowing I always take care of him. “Make sure I get the free bottles of champagne and complimentary spa shit. My shoulders are feeling a little tight." He stretches his arms and rolls his shoulders for effect. "A full body massage might be needed.” He just likes the idea of having my people jump through hoops to mess with me.

Standing to leave, he says, “Well, gentleman, I’m outta here. Things to do, Chord’s Crossing mysteries to solve.” He grins, points finger guns at me, and winks before waltzing out the door.

The man is like a dog on a bone when he wants to know something. I am so screwed.

Chapter 6

Abbie

Stupid,stupid,sodamnstupid.

I curse myself over and over as I throw my clothes into a beat-up suitcase. How could I be so stupid? Why did I think I could get into his dumb club in the first place? And why did I let that man spread me out on a table and give me an orgasm to end all orgasms?

Because I needed to make rent, pay for Nini’s nursing home and my tuition. Duh. Well, admittedly, that’s not why I let him spread me out on the table. That was pure hot, sexual attraction. My panties get wet just thinking about what I let him do to me. I cringe in embarrassment.

Why did I let him do those things to me? Because I'm a horny idiot. That's why.

Shake it off, Abbie. We aren’t going there again.

The cherry on top of this big shit sundae was losing the damn bet I never should’ve made in the first place. That bet was a deal with the devil. Jail might be preferable to being at Chord Gallo’s mercy all weekend.

And because I’m a loser, I’m now packing for my weekend at Chord’s Crossing. The weekend I’m “his” to do with whatever he pleases, following all his orders, with no questions asked.

I’m envisioning a weekend of “yes, Chord,” “whatever you want, Chord,” or “which way do you want me, Chord?”, but frankly, I don’t know what to expect. I know taking orders from him doesn’t sound remotely like anything I would do. Ever. I’ve never just blindly followed orders.

Does he even know me?Ineverdo as I’m told. It’s a personality weakness of mine. If someone tells me to do something, I dig my heels in and do the opposite. I’m guessing I drove my poor Nini into the nursing home earlier than needed because she didn’t want to deal with me and my stubbornness anymore.

Grace, my best friend, understands and loves me just the way I am. She’s always there to keep me from doing something stupid, or she used to be, until she married her hunky ex-NFL quarterback. I can’t fault her for hooking up with him and moving out. Those two were meant for each other. It’s kind of sickening to watch them together, all starry-eyed and lovey dovey, unable to keep their hands off each other.

It’s doubtful I’ll ever have their kind of love, so I’ll have to be content with my fantasy-husband and my trusty vibrator at night. I figured out early in my dating life there are very few men who could actually make my fantasies a reality. Even fewer I could trust. Hence the reason I’m still a virgin at twenty years old. Nini says I have high standards and little patience for the bullshit. Men also like to be in charge and want to change you. They all think they want some meek princess. No, thank you. Not me.

But since our bet, my nights have been filled with weird, unsettling, erotic dreams. Every time I close my eyes, my fantasy partner shape shifts into an image of the mysterious and sexy Chord Gallo—all dominant and overbearing, licking and stroking my pussy like it’s his favorite treat, then bending me over, and taking me like a man who knows how to please his woman by making her scream his name. It’s at that point, I usually wake myself up when I do, in fact, moan his name, riding the orgasm he’s given me in my dream, without having so much as touched me. Damn him.

Why him?I can’t stand the guy. Sure, I may want his toned, hard body, and I may want to lick his delicious abs, but his controlling personality?

No, thanks.

Why can’t I have Jason Momoa or Henry Cavill dreams like a normal girl?

Peering out the window, the luxury SUV he’s sent for me is sitting in front of my building. My palms are sweaty and my heart’s pounding, both trepidation and curiosity coursing through my veins. I detest being off balance. I’d much rather stay at home, binge watching shows, and stuffing my face with cookie dough than do this, but I’ve given my word, and I always keep my word.

Besides, he’d probably hunt me down and tie me up in his basement if I didn’t show. Sounds like a mafia daddy thing to do. Great, now I have images of Chord tying me up in his basement and doing sordid things to my body repeatedly until I screamed for mercy.

Ugh. Fuck my life.

Doing a mental inspection of my apartment and my suitcase, I make sure I have everything I need. Yoga pants, check. Non-sexy sleep t-shirt, check. I’m about to leave when my phone pings. It’s a text from Grace. Immediately, I call her back instead of texting, needing some girl talk right now. Chord’s driver will have to wait.

“Girl! I miss you so, so much,” Grace says mournfully into the phone as she answers. “You need to come hold my hair while I vomit my guts up like the old days. Being pregnant sucks hairy balls!”

I laugh. “Being pregnant and puking drunk aren’t the same, Grace. You know I’d be there if I could, but I think Ty wants you all to himself.” I don’t mention I have a prior commitment this weekend. Chord is, after all, Ty’s best friend, and Grace loves Chord.

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