Page 184 of Merciless Desires

I tried to close the window but the screen had frozen so I forced a shutdown and hopped from foot to foot while the spinning wheel of death taunted me from the blank window. Come on, come on. About a year later, the screen came to life and I restarted the browser, almost chewing my lip off in the process. The auction deadline had passed. Was I to be the proud owner of a hundred grand or was I not?

My eyes roamed the screen, unable to focus on any one thing. Then I read the line, ‘Your auction has ended. Congratulations. Now meet your winning bidder.’

My heart lodged itself firmly in my throat as I clicked the button. It took me through to a profile page that contained no photograph and only one line of information: Payment will be made to a holding company once contracts have been signed, then released on fulfilment. Instructions to follow.

I scrolled to the foot of the page and felt an overwhelming sense of relief. The winning bid was a hundred thousand pounds. ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND POUNDS! My virginity. Sold. To the highest bidder.

The only bidder.

I closed my eyes against the inevitable ‘what’s wrong with me?’ and ‘Am I really so ugly?’ inner prodding and reminded myself that others who may have been interested would probably have seen the six figure bid and decided against it. Whoever had bid on me had put me in a league above the rest. My head swam with a combination of insatiable intrigue and dread. Who was it? And what were these instructions?

Almost immediately, a notification appeared at the top of my screen. A message had appeared in my inbox. It was from Lamont Law. I opened it and felt immediately intimidated by the very proper and complicated wording it used. I had to read over the letter three times before it made any sense.

This Agreement (“Agreement”) is entered into by both the parties described herein under as “Client” and “Provider”.

Dalziel Sebastian Edward Thorn, also described as the ‘Client’ and Rose Delilah Robinson, also described as ‘Provider’, do hereby agree to all the terms described and given below.

The term of this agreement begins immediately upon arrival at the Client’s property and shall continue until the service has been fulfilled.

The words swam but one line rose to the surface, higher than the rest. “Provider will be transported to the home of the client to fulfil the purpose of this agreement. The address of the client’s home is Blackcap Hall, Warlock Mount, Isle of Crow.”

Isle of Crow? I was going to the Isle of Crow? No one had stepped foot on that island in years. Decades. Maybe even a century. Hovering off the Scottish mainland by a few hundred miles, it was notoriously closed off from the rest of the UK. It was completely isolated and inhabited by the world’s most reclusive billionaires. Well, that figured. One of them just paid for my virginity.

Excitement and fear wrapped around the base of my spine and wound upwards until I shook with nerves.

This was it. I was going to lose my virginity to a billionaire and become rich in the process. It was too good to be true. On paper it promised to make me, but I had a nagging feeling it might break me instead.

Chapter Three

Rose

I was a mass of trembling bones when the helicopter touched down. We landed in the centre of a tarmac circle surrounded by manicured nature and not much else. There were no buildings for as far as the eye could see, only a long, black Mercedes with opaque windows and tyres that looked like they’d been polished with a cashmere brush.

An older man dressed in a slick tailored suit held out a hand and didn’t flinch when mine shook uncontrollably in his grip. He didn’t even bat an eyelid. He didn’t say a word either as we drove across the island to the place where I was to lose my virginity to a total stranger.

The landscape passed in a blur. The only images I saw were those in my head: potential scenarios, feelings, nerves, questions. So many questions. What does he look like? How old is he? Is he one of the infamous Isle of Crow billionaires? Does he live in a mansion? Is he single? God, I hope he’s single. It occurred to me I might be about to sleep with a serial virginity-taker. Perhaps this was his hobby. Some men like gambling or golf, maybe breaking in a virgin was that lesser-known of billionaire pastimes.

More questions flooded my head: Where will we do it? When will we do it? Will it happen quickly or will he want to get to know me? Will I like it? Will it hurt?

I pressed my fingertips to my temples and squeezed my eyes closed. I needed to clear my head before I met with the man who was going to make me a woman. When I reluctantly opened them again, the car was sweeping through an enormous, foreboding set of iron gates and up a tree-lined drive that looked long enough to reach mainland Europe. My lungs filled with awe and my skin prickled. A tightening in my stomach told me if I didn’t get to a loo in the next twenty minutes, I may well have had an accident on my hands.

As the trees parted, a slate grey building came into view, stretching from the ground up into the clouds. Air vacated my chest through parted lips.

“It’s enormous,” I whispered.

I darted my gaze to the driver whose expression didn’t budge even a millimetre.

I tried again. “Is this Blackcap Hall?”

He glided the car alongside the wide stone steps leading to the main entrance. “Yes, ma’am.”

I reached for the door handle but the driver’s curt warning halted me. “Someone is coming for you.”

I sat back slowly and waited. Sure enough, a short, quick, highly efficient-looking man strode through the doors and down the steps. My voice was surprisingly timid as I thanked the driver and stepped out of the car.

“This way please, Miss Hemingway.”

“My things—” I glided an arm towards the boot of the car where my suitcase still sat.

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