Beg Me-Sold to My Dad's Boss

And now my brown eyes met his clearly, with honesty and sincerity shining through.

“Please,” I tried again. “Please tell me what’s going on, I’m so lost.”

And the big man stared at me hard for a moment before shaking his head.

“Lindy,” he said slowly, “You’re a smart girl but so stupid sometimes.”

I grabbed my stuff, ready to flee. He’d just called me stupid? How could he? My cheeks flamed and I whirled on my heel, my bag in my hands when a big fist clamped on my wrist.

“No baby,” he rumbled gently. “You’re not stupid, I’m sorry, that’s not the right word. ‘Innocent’ is a better descriptor. You’re innocent and I keep forgetting because you’re a girl with a woman’s body, a girl who knows so much, but so little as well.”

And I turned to go again. What was it with these backhand compliments, these double-edged comments? He could keep them to himself, I was done.

But Chris wouldn’t let go of my arm and instead, pulled me to sit in a chair across from him.

“All I’m saying Lindy,” he continued quietly, “is that I’ve fallen in love with you and want to be a part of your life.”

Now I sat back, stunned, my eyes wide. I was literally speechless, no words came to mind.

“I see I took you by surprise,” said the big man wryly. “Like I said, innocent. You really had no idea, baby girl? No idea after I jumped through all these hoops to see you?”

I closed my eyes, shaking my head silently. Was I really here, in the Four Seasons, alone with Mr. Jones? Had he really just declared love for me?

But when I opened my eyes, the big man was still there, looking at me amused, but with deep emotion in his eyes.

“It’s true, baby,” he rumbled, taking my small hand in his. “Christopher Jones, confirmed forty-five year-old bachelor, is head over heels for Lindy Martin, daughter of my employee.”

And I jumped up then, my heart pumping.

“Chris,” I said quickly, “If this is another farce, another way to get back at my dad, make him pay for his misdeeds …”

But this time, the big man’s hand was firm and he yanked me to sit back down.

“This has nothing to do with Jim,” he growled, dark streaks appearing across his cheekbones, “and everything to do with us.”

I sat, unspeaking again. “Us”? There was an “us”?

And the alpha male nodded.

“There’s absolutely an ‘us,’” he affirmed, voice rough. “There was an “us” the minute you stepped into my home, looking like an innocent doe, unsure, hesitant, not knowing what was next. I felt myself falling, falling that entire week, it was like doing a nose-dive with no parachute, and suddenly there was an ‘us,’” he said roughly. “I had to have you. I have to have you even now, Lindy, come with me. Leave college, I can give you what you want, what you need, you can travel, go to culinary school, do whatever it is that makes you happy.”

And my heart beat so quickly that I thought it might explode in my chest, but something about this didn’t make sense, didn’t jive.

“Mr. Jones,” I said slowly, “I don’t get it. We had an arrangement, you’re the one who made that clear. My dad could keep his job for a little longer, so long as I spent ten days with you …” and here I choked. But it was better not to hold back, I wanted to be perfectly clear. “So long as I spent ten days with you having sex,” I said with finality, stuttering a bit despite my best efforts.

At least he didn’t deny it.

“That’s true,” he said smoothly. “But things changed along the way. I saw you, I talked with you, I felt like we were two people who really got along despite our age difference, despite the unusual circumstances. Didn’t you feel that as well?” he asked, that voice like smooth brandy.

And I paused for a moment. Of course I’d felt it, but I was sure it was one-sided, that it was the imagination of a teenage girl.

“Yes,” I said slowly, “but what happened?” I asked. “Why the turnabout?”

And Mr. Jones paused for a moment.

“Honey, I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he drawled. “I’ve always been interested in you, and now I’m talking about making it legitimate, making it into something permanent.”

My pulse jumped at the words “legitimate” and “permanent,” but I couldn’t quite get over the way our relationship had begun, how it’d been a business transaction more than anything, literally my dad’s job in exchange for physical release, the opportunity to enjoy my young, untouched body.

“I guess I just feel like I’m being bought,” I said slowly, carefully.

The big man jolted at the word “bought,” but I nodded my head, more sure of myself. “I feel like you buy everything, Chris. The meeting with the governor, wining and dining powerful friends, contracts for your company. Even my parents’ allegiance,” I added slowly. “They’re in debt to you now with that helicopter ride, even more so than before.”