Chained to You (Dark Billionaires 1, 2)

"Yes?" I replied slowly, my throat dry.

"You're so timid and juvenile." He described my flaws to me. His next words made me want to stab a knife into his heart. "How the fuck are you going to find me that two million?"

I flashed my eyes to him, anger flooding through me. My whole body trembled as I said, "Mr. J. Maxwell?"

His response was, "You've messed up my room."

I held my head high and snapped, "It was the dog's fault. It took my bag and destroyed my clothes. It even ate my food."

He narrowed his eyes at me, and I suddenly realized I was treading on thin ice. Any moment now, I would fall into the hell he had Andy in.

Yes, I'd come to the realization this man--this very hot, amazingly handsome man with beautiful Prussian blue eyes--was the Mr. J. Maxwell, the man I'd dreaded meeting. The man Andy owed two million dollars. The man who would have Andy shot dead in an instant just because he wanted to and had the power to, without even the police stepping in and tarnishing his pristine and powerful image.

The dog chose that moment to run to its master, whimpering at the man with a cuteness no person could ever resist, including me, who'd never liked dogs.

Mr. J. Maxwell bent down and lifted the canine. "What have you been eating, Alfie? You'll get sick from it."

I was offended. "It's a healthy, nutritious bar," I said firmly.

He turned his attention to me, one handsome brow raised. "Oh?"

I noticed him eyeing me again, which I didn't want. I suddenly felt self-conscious. Trying to cover myself from his intense and interested gaze with pieces of ripped clothing wasn't going to do it. Thus, I looked to the towel near his feet. Without thinking, I rushed forward, bent low, and retrieved the white thing, avoiding master and dog as much as I could.

I turned my back to him as I awkwardly wrapped the towel around me. When I returned my attention to him, he was looking at me, his face stern.

I waited as he continued to stare, which really unsettled me. I was about to say something when he quipped, "Get dressed and meet me in my office."

He walked past me to the door, and I remembered to asked him, "Where's your office?"

"Ms. Lane will show you there," he said over his shoulder and then closed the door with a click.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 6

Mia

"I messed up his room," I murmured to myself. I glanced at that king-size bed with the expensive duvet cover of grayish-blue and black and felt a delicious shiver pass down my spine. Then I turned my attention to the floor. My ripped clothes were everywhere. I sighed and proceed to find a pair of jeans and T-shirt that was still intact. No such luck, of course.

I was midway through pulling my ripped T-shirt on when three knocks came at the door. I quickly pulled the rest of the thin gray material down my body and said, "Come in."

The door cracked open and Ms. Lane silently entered. She stood straight as she faced me, her hands clasped before her as she addressed me. "Are you ready to see Mr. Maxwell?"

If wearing ripped jeans and shirt without a bra--because that very last one lying on the floor was torn beyond repair and unwearable--was ready, then yes, I was as ready as I could be to face the billionaire my brother owed two million dollars, the man who'd seen me with my naked backside in the air.

I murmured, "Yes," followed by a nod of my head.

"Follow me," she said and turned on her heel, expecting me to trail her like she expected a lower staff member to obey her order to perfection.

The moment Ms. Lane knocked and then opened a door, my heart skipped a beat. When she stepped aside to let me in, I hesitated. I was suddenly shaking, and I knew I had to get a grip of myself. This was what I was here for. To negotiate for my brother's release.

I took a deep breath when Ms. Lane nudged me to hurry up by saying, "He's waiting."

Before my nerves got any worse, I took a step in and then another.

Standing before me was the gorgeous Mr. J. Maxwell. He had his arms folded across his chest and his backside resting slightly on the edge of the desk. He looked relaxed and casual, but the very sight of him took my breath away. It annoyed me that he should have such a strong, inexplicably powerful impression on me.

The moment my eyes met his, a gasp escaped my lips. I felt uncomfortable and was very aware my breasts and nipples were jutting out against the thin material of my ripped shirt. I really did hope he didn't notice.

"Sit," he said, nodding at the chair before him.

I hesitantly did as he commanded. Yes, there was nothing else in his tone but authority. He had that magical aura within him, that self-confidence that had the power to take charge, shout out orders, and give commands. Indeed, people would listen and follow his every word. Even the little beast named Alfie was quiet on the other side of the room, snuggling cozily as it watched me with its beady eyes.

I gazed up at him, not knowing how to proceed. Yes, he'd requested--No!--demanded I be presented here before him, along with his expected two million. Well, all I had was three hundred dollars.

He leaned forward and began. "I was expecting someone much older."

"I'm twenty-two," I said sternly. "I'm old enough. Where's my brother?"

He ignored my demanding question. "Your father allow you to come here knowing my reputation?"

Reputation? I knew nothing of his reputation. His rhetorical question, however, planted a seed of apprehension within my mind. Of course I'd dreaded coming here and facing him about the two million dollars. But now that he mentioned his reputation, I wondered if I'd be able to walk out of here alive.

However, the sudden change in subject got me angry. This showed in my voice, which was trembling, along with my pissed-off face, red and stern.

"My father died eleven years ago in a car accident, along with my mother. The only person Andy has is me, his older sister."

He raised a brow at me, as if he found my tragic back-story rather bland and uninteresting, like he'd heard that particular story a hundred times before. I'll admit it was rather a common back-story, but when it happens to you, when every possible shit you could imagine got thrown at you, then it wasn't so common anymore.

"Where's my brother?" I asked again, trying very hard to calm myself, trying hard not to jump to the conclusion that this Mr. J. Maxwell had already executed Andy with a bullet to my baby brother's handsome head.

He looked at me long and hard. "I applaud your brother and his friends, Ms. Donovan,"

he said, easing his arms from their crossed position and resting them casually on the edge of the desk. "They've managed to cheat two million out of me." He leaned forward, his eyes sharp, his face so close to me that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, which both pleased and unsettled me at the same time.

"And trust me. I rarely allow anyone to cheat me."

He flashed me a dark smile that made me want to run and hide and at the same time made me want to kiss him. It was a stupid desire, of course, and I'd never felt like that toward any man before. I felt like I actually wanted to throw myself at him and let him do exquisite, unspeakable things to me. Things that were frowned upon. Things people didn't talk about outside the bedroom. Things a virgin like me had never experienced.

"So?" he asked softly, drifting his eyes slowly to my breasts and then back to my face. "What will you do? You look like a resourceful young woman." He flashed a grin at me that would have made any woman spread her legs wide for him. Not me. It made me want to punch the smirk off his face, because he was implying something that hurt my pride.

"You're here to negotiate for your brother's release. Then let's do it. The closing date is Friday this week, Ms. Donovan. Two million cash. I get my money; you get your brother back."

I was so tense; when he suddenly touched my cheek, I jumped in my seat.

"What if I don't... don't get the two million?" And in my mind, I shouted, How the heck do I get two million? There was no way that was possible. I get paid minimum wage, and I worked seven days a week to make ends meet. So how the heck would I be able to make two million in two days?

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find a way, Ms. Donovan," he said, drifting his eyes from my face to my breasts again, his fingers caressing my cheek.

Heat rushed to my face as the meaning of his words drummed deep into my mind.

"I don't fuck men for money!" I said through gritted teeth.

I'd never used the word fuck in the open before. I reserved that severely execrable word for dire situations, but he left me no choice. His assumption of my character pissed me off, and I couldn't control myself.