CHAPTER SEVEN
Maggie
I took a deep breath and cursed my knees for trembling. Throwing a nervous glance behind me, there was no one there. The enormous green lawn sparkled, a stately parade of oaks lining the driveway.
Because this wasn’t just a house. This was a castle with turrets and multiple wings. All they needed was a giant drawbridge and gate instead of the two huge double doors. But Evan probably didn’t even see it like that. My man grew up in this place so to him, it was normal.
I swallowed again and locked my knees under the designer dress. It’s gonna be okay, the voice in my head whispered. He’s into you, meeting his parents won’t be so bad.
But the words didn’t do much unfortunately. My fingers trailed nervously at the hem of my dress, picking at the soft material. He likes you, the voice came again. Don’t worry, it’s gonna be fine. What man would buy mountains of stuff if he didn’t care?
That was true, and even the memories made me shiver. I felt like Cinderella, whisked from poverty and plunked in the middle of unspeakable riches. New lingerie, new dresses, shorts, blouses, even hats I’d probably never wear, unless it was the Kentucky Derby every day.
When I got home with all the bags, they didn’t even fit into my bedroom. I had to leave some in my tiny kitchen and living room, parcels scattered about. But that didn’t stop Mr. Lincoln.
Because sweeping packages to the side, he hauled me onto my tiny bed and took me once more. Again and again, that hot rod deep in my snatch, making me scream with pleasure.
It was so good.
So dramatic.
So exciting.
Is this normal?
Are you supposed to have non-stop sex with man? Someone that you don’t know very well?
But I feel like I’m getting to know him at light speed.
The way he talks.
The way he grins.
The way he eyes my body when he’s hungry.
Because this time, the alpha got so deep into me, I felt it all the way in my heart. His creamy seed pumped into me over and over again that I saw stars. Literal stars, bright flashes that sparkled before my eyes. I should have told him to wear a condom, but it slipped my mind.
Again.
This was supposed to be part of our pact.
Part of the agreement.
Twenty thousand dollars for a month as a fake fiancée.
Our bodies curved around one another.
Sex that was protected.
But that’s the thing.
It’s been unprotected every single time.
I should call him out on it.
I should scream and wail, and make like it’s a big deal.
But I don’t. Because making love with Mr. Lincoln feels so good. I love being filled by virile sperm, feeling the hot juices spurt into my insides. I love having it trickle down my thigh afterwards, a naughty, delicious reminder.
It makes me feel marked.
Special.
His property.
But I have to tell Evan to use condoms next time.
I can’t keep being careless like this.
Shaking my head, I straightened my shoulders. This wasn’t time to think about it. Right now, I had to play my role like an actress, to keep up my part of the bargain. So taking a deep breath, I looked at the massive green double doors. A knocker like a Medusa stared back at me, more than a little creepy. Was I supposed to use that to make myself known? It was heavy and intimidating. So I used my knuckles instead, giving a soft rap.
No one answered for a moment but then the door swung open, and a butler greeted me. Wow. Like a real butler in a jacket and tie. Evan’s family had to be really, really rich. This was beyond insane. The man grew up in a castle, and lived here with servants. So different from my humble beginnings in a duplex that was probably as big as their bathroom.
I stammered my greeting.
“Um, hi. I’m here to see Evan.”
The butler bowed.
“Of course, you must be Miss Lake. Welcome. Please come in. The family is waiting for you in the sitting room.”
Tentatively, I stepped over the threshold. And inside, the house was huge. Marble everywhere. Sculptures of Greek gods and slippery looking floors. Huge paintings on the walls and the smell of a crisp room deodorizer. Maybe that’s the smell of money.
With the size of the house, I expected a huge family, maybe some cousins or kids running around. But the house was eerily still, almost like a museum. And glancing through the open sitting room door, I could see it was just Evan and an older couple, refined and elegant. Must be Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln.
At the wide entrance to the sitting room, the butler paused and actually announced me like we were in a scene from Downtown Abbey.
“Miss Margaret Lake for dinner.”
His voice rang out like a bell in the giant sitting room. And immediately, all three Lincolns turned.