Page 12 of Bought

I’m going to show him that he’s messed with—and made a mess of—the wrong girl. He’s used to throwing his weight around with powerful people. He’s got cops paid off. He’s got thousands of people indebted to him. Millions of people use his products, give him their data. And I just let him fuck me over an interrogation table, but that doesn’t mean he owns me.

Sitting there, wet and getting increasingly self-righteously angry, I start to formulate a plan. So what if he’s winning right now? So what if I fucked him? So what if I liked it? It doesn’t mean he’ll win in the end. In this game, the only way he wins is if I give up. And I will never give up.

* * *

We roll into a compound in the hills above Silicon Valley. High walls surround the perimeter, of course. Rich men can’t help but turn their homes into fortresses. Gates more than twice as high as I am tall swing open for the car and we proceed up a long tree-lined drive toward a house that is built precisely the way I’d expect it to be. This is a home for a modern emperor, two great wings spanning the drive that circles around the front of the house. There are people here, but not family or friends. I see them as silhouetted sentinels. They’re soldiers for hire, men who I am sure have guns, even if I can’t see the weapons themselves.

Even in the dark, the house is impressive. It’s big enough for a small village to live in, but I doubt he shares it with anyone. I doubt he shares anything.

The entrance swallows me as I step out of the car. I find myself between large stone columns that tower in clusters leading to the grand front doors. This is a home built for giants. Everything is designed to impress, and to dwarf. Except Ethan does not seem diminished by it. He’s tall and this all fits him. Old style and modern dominance are blended in every part of him and this home.

I glance over my shoulder as Ethan strides toward the front door. He’s not even keeping hold of me now. He’s taking my presence and my compliance for granted. I could run right now. I could head for the bushes and hide among the trees. This part of the hills is pretty wild, and though I could follow the road back down to the city, the idea of doing it in the dark is more frightening than the idea of staying where I am.

There are probably mountain lions out there, maybe coyotes, maybe bears. I’m a city girl at heart and by nature. I’m happy when there are four walls close around me and a flow of traffic outside keeping me connected with the world.

This place is isolated by wealth. I can feel the absence of humanity around us. It’s freeing, but it’s also scary. We all live in Ethan’s world, but I am being drawn ever more into the swirling core of his villainy.

My thoughts are dramatic, but this situation is nothing but drama. He’s pushed me further than I knew I could go. And he will take me further, if I’m not careful. Maybe too far. Maybe so far I can never come back.

The door opens just as Ethan gets to it. At first I think he has them on some kind of auto-open mechanism like the gates, but then I see a man standing inside, his hands on each of the handles as he sweeps them open with a flourish.

“Welcome home, sir.”

“Thank you, Forsyth.”

Of course Ethan has a British butler. I roll my eyes in the dark. He loves everything connected with power. I bet there’s a throne somewhere in this house, sitting on a dais, and I bet he sits on it and dreams of the day everyone bends a knee for him.

“This is Casey. She will be a guest here,” Ethan introduces me. “She can have the princess room.”

“The princess room?” I snort.

Forsyth looks me up and down, his dour eyes running the length of my body, taking in the jeans, scuffed shoes, faded hooded sweater. His upper lip curls just a hair of a fraction and I know instantly that he does not approve of me. Good. I don’t approve of him, or this place, or Ethan either. I’m going to be here one night, and then I’m going to bring Ethan Keller down so hard he’ll have to sell this place just to afford his legal bills.

“The princess room is prepared, sir,” he says, an oh-so faint note of long suffering sigh in his refined tones.

He knows what I know. I’m no princess.

“Would you like me to escort the… lady?”

He pauses just a moment before saying lady. This British dude is throwing some serious shade in my direction, and if I weren’t basically a captive, I’d be even more offended than I am.

“I’ll take her,” Ethan says.

“Very good, sir,” Forsyth says flatly.

I bet if I were here in a designer dress, all perfectly made up, he’d be fawning over me. He wouldn’t be looking relieved that he doesn’t have to have anything to do with me. I give him a look that returns his scorn in spades, and I turn my attention to the rest of my surroundings, which go even further toward making me feel like a fish out of water.

The interior of the home is no less impressive than the exterior. The floors are marble and then rich hardwood, the walls are molded, the ceilings boast chandeliers festooned with shining crystal.

It’s beautiful and classy. Everything I’m not. Standing between these two men with a billionaire’s semen still dripping from my pussy, pooling in my panties and bathing my sex in his seed, I feel a blush of shame coming over me as I compare myself to the surroundings and find myself as wanting as the butler just did.

“You like?” Ethan moves up beside me and bends to murmur the question in my ear.

“Looks like an oversized dollhouse for unimaginative people with too much money,” I snark.

There is a disapproving clearing of the throat from Forsyth, and a dark chuckle from Ethan.

“Maybe your room will be more to your liking.”

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