Bought and Paid For Page 5

  “Jackson—”

  “I know the sound you make in the back of your throat right before you come all over my cock, and the hungry look you get in your eyes when I touch you.”

  His words sent shivers of awareness down my spine. I should have known a man like Jackson King would pay attention to everything, but the fact that he knew so much about me was astounding. I didn’t know how to begin to process it. I just knew that it meant… something special.

  “Wow,” I whispered, because I had no idea what else to say to that revelation.

  “Ask me what else I know, little one.”

  “What else do you know?” I asked, my breath lodged in my chest because it felt like this was important.

  “I know that what we have begun isn’t over. That it will never be over, Meggie. And do you know why?”

  “Why?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

  “Because even now you could be pregnant with my child.” His words slowly filled me, the truth in them warming me so deeply it was almost as if they marked my soul. Involuntarily, my hands moved to my stomach.

  “I could be pregnant.” I murmured the words. They were laced with disbelief, because until that moment it had never occurred to me that I could be carrying Jackson King’s child. Jackson’s hand came down to my stomach and overlapped mine.

  “I’ll tell you something else. If you aren’t pregnant yet, I won’t stop until you are,” he vowed. His words were like a caress that slowly swept through me.

  He moved to the side and slowly drew me down on the blanket.

  “Jackson…”

  “You like that idea too, don’t you, my sweet Meggie.” It wasn’t stated like a question. “You want my baby growing inside of you. You want us linked together forever,” he whispered right before his lips came down on mine.

  I didn’t answer him with words. There was no need. My answer was in my kiss.

  I wanted all that Jackson said—and more. I wanted him…

  Forever.

  Chapter 13

  Megan

  We’d been back in the states for several days now, and although I was due back at home, with my father, and my things, I hadn’t been able to find myself leaving Jackson.

  I didn’t want to.

  He made me feel like I could be anyone I wanted. I didn’t feel afraid of being myself, of looking outside of the box and seeing that there was an entire world that I could learn about.

  But most of all, I didn’t want to leave Jackson because I loved him.

  Even now I had my hand on my belly, wondering if I carried his child.

  I glanced at the ornate clock on the wall, waiting for my father, whom I’d agreed to have dinner with to tell him how things were going. I knew he worried about me—despite everything. In his way, he loved me and was concerned over the fact I was still with Jackson despite the agreed-upon ending time.

  But I’d clear the air now, let him know what I wanted in my life, and that Jackson was here to stay for me.

  I hadn’t even told Jackson I was seeing my father tonight, not because he’d disapprove, but because he didn’t think my father had any right to know what was going on, seeing as he’d agreed to hand me over. But the truth was I’d agreed to be with him to help my father.

  I hadn’t realized just how much I’d grow to care for the brutal CEO.

  I saw my father enter the restaurant, and instantly felt guilty. He looked like he’d aged a decade in this short time. He was in front of me and helping me out of the seat before I had time to do that myself. He embraced me, his body seeming so frail.

  “You’re okay,” he said softly.

  “Of course,” I responded. He pulled me back and eyed me, looking me over as if he expected to see battle wounds covering me.

  “You’re … glowing,” he said, his brows furrowing, this look of almost disbelief crossing his face.

  “I feel great, Dad,” I answered, not about to sneak around. It was one of the reasons I’d wanted to have dinner tonight. It wasn’t just about seeing him and making sure he was okay, but because I was going to tell him I was staying with Jackson.

  I loved my father. He was a good man, just had bad habits. It was those said habits that had gotten me into this situation, that had gotten him into the position he was in as well. But in this short time something in me had changed. I felt more alive, freer than I ever had before. I didn’t want that to go, not ever.

  Once we were seated across from each other I took a stuttering breath. I didn’t want to prolong this, and by the expression on my father’s face I knew he suspected something was up.

  “I have a feeling this dinner wasn’t about you telling me you wanted to come back home.”

  I shook my head. “No, because I don’t want to. I’m happy with Jackson. He makes me feel alive.” I was surprised the words came out like they had, so truthfully, instant, genuine. He didn’t answer me for long seconds, but did glance down and finally shake his head.

  “I guess I don’t understand this.” He looked up at me once more. “How can you stand to be with a man who used you as collateral, who wanted you because of my mistake?”

  This wasn’t what I wanted to do, wasn’t how I wanted this to go. I didn’t want to argue about this or what I wanted. I’d asked him here to tell him the truth. “I can’t really explain it, and even if I could I don’t think I could properly make you understand.” I started picking at my napkin, feeling nervous, afraid he’d make this huge scene. “I’m an adult, and don’t expect you to accept any of this right away, if at all…”

  “You’re happy? He treats you well?”

  I stared into my father’s eyes, feeling happier than I ever had before. “I am,” I said and smiled. “I love him.”

  And just like that I saw the genuine acceptance on my father’s face. He’d worried about me, and wondered if my life would be the same, no doubt. But the truth was I hadn’t known what living was until spending time with Jackson.

  I hadn’t known what truly being happy was until I broke through the mold that held me down for so long. Being with Jackson was swift, frightening at first, but it had been real, true. I loved him, and it was time I let myself be happy.

  It was time that I thought about myself.

  Epilogue One

  Jackson

  Two years later

  “Did they finally fall asleep?” Megan asked me from the bed. I stood there for a moment and drank the vision in. Next week Megan and I would have been married for two years. In that time, I had only fallen more and more under my wife’s spell. All those years ago when I saw her standing at that party I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Now, over five years later since the first time I laid eyes on her, I couldn’t believe the beauty I held in my hands.

  She lay in our bed, her blonde hair spilled against the crisp white sheets, the blanket pulled up to her breasts. Somehow even after two years of marriage and three kids, she still looked innocent.

  “Tabitha has been out for hours, but our boys fought it until they couldn’t anymore,” I confirmed. Tabitha was our oldest child. We found out Megan was pregnant a couple of months after coming back from Greece, and to celebrate we flew back and got married on the same beach we’d created our daughter on.

  Megan got out of bed and walked to me, and just like always took my breath. She wore a white silk gown that clung to her curves. You would have never guessed that this woman gave birth to twin boys just two months ago.

  When she stopped in front of me, I slid my hand along her hip and let my gaze take all of her in. I knew that she’d chosen the color for me, because that is how I saw her—how I have always seen her. Megan was pure and untouched from the harshness of my life and my business. She was mine to care for, to protect, and to provide for. Mine to love.

  “Have I told you how much I love you, Jackson King? There are times that I cannot believe this is my life.”

  “It’s our life, little one. Ours,” I corrected her j
ust before I claimed her mouth. She tasted like heaven. Which is more than fitting, because she is my angel and maybe that’s the true reason I like to see her in white.

  Whatever the reason, I’m grateful that she chose to love a cold, selfish bastard like me.

  Epilogue Two

  Megan

  Ten months later

  “We spoil these boys,” I said with happiness thick in my voice. I looked around at the disarray of the house, the twin’s first birthday party a hit, especially with the kids.

  I glanced at Jackson, who was already watching me with this smile on his face. God, he looked so good, and every day I fell in love with him even more. He pulled me over and onto his lap, and I snuggled deeper into his chest, loving that he cradled me, kept us safe, made me the happiest woman on the planet.

  My heart started beating a little harder, because what I was about to tell him was nerve wracking. “Do you ever think about having more children?” I asked and sat up, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  “I do,” he said, smiling at me. He pulled me forward so my chest was pressed to his. He had his mouth at my neck, sucking at my flesh. I tipped my head back and moaned, the feeling of his lips on my throat, and his beard scratching at my skin making me feel content and safe.

  “That’s good, because I’m pregnant.”

  I felt him tense against me a second before he pulled back. He stared into my eyes, realization settling in.

  I cupped his cheeks, his beard soft under my palms.

  He pressed his mouth to mine and kissed me so passionately I lost my breath for a moment.

  “God, you make me so fucking happy.”

  “I love you,” I said between kisses.

  “I love you too, Meggie. It’ll only ever be you for me.” He leaned in and kissed me softly. “You’re the only woman I’ll ever want.”

  Every day I fell more in love with this man, and I knew he felt the same for me.

  The End

  Chapter 1

  Roman

  “Boss, we got a problem.”

  I’m looking out over the one-way window of my upstairs office that shows the bar and dance floor below. Here I was, thinking it was going to be a slow night. I own one of the premiere night spots in Miami, and for the most part, things run smoothly. I have my fingers in a lot of pots though, so I can’t help but worry about what Joe deems as a problem.

  “What’s up, Joe?” Big Joe is my right hand and my number one bouncer. He can usually handle anything, so for him to come to me is enough to set off warning bells. I swivel my chair back around to look at him.

  “That kid you caught trying to sell his shit in the club last week?”

  “Yeah?”

  “He’s got family.”

  “I fail to see why this concerns me, Joe.”

  It sounds cold. Then again, I am fucking cold. Still, I gave the kid two chances to stop pushing his crap in my club. He didn’t listen. The way I see it, three strikes and you’re out. I’d already been more lenient with him than I would be others. He was so fucking young. Twenty-one. Young, dumb, and full of cum. Hell, at forty-two, I’m starting to think I’m too damned old to be doing this job anymore. I have money—more than enough money. Maybe I should just seek out some sandy beach out of the country and call it a day. Greece, my mother’s family was from there. Even if my mother was a fucking bitch, maybe I’ll find some affinity for the country.

  “His sister’s been making waves,” he tells me.

  “Again, why do I care?” I ask, taking a drink of my Scotch. It’s aged perfectly and the burn soothes me going down.

  “She’s been talking to the cops.”

  “Fucking hell. What does she know?”

  “Not a lot. But you know the badges. They hear your name and they’re going to come running.”

  I sigh. He’s not wrong. They just hear the name Roman Anthes and they come poking around, descending on my club, my company, and any holdings I have. Since I’m trying to broker a deal to get into bed with the Russians, that could be disastrous right now.

  “Where is this sister?”

  “That’s just it, boss. You just hired her.”

  “I haven’t hired anyone here at the club in months,” I argue. I’m very careful about the workers I hire here. I make sure I have them all vetted carefully and meticulously.

  “Not here. She started work at the Dive.”

  “Waitress?” The Dive is a strip joint on the edge of a low rent side of town. I won the fucking thing in a card game. Had plans for selling it off, just haven’t got around to it yet.

  “Dancer. You gave Yoly the okay to hire her a couple of weeks ago. She’s starting to get pretty popular. Yo says business has tripled since she started.”

  “Does she have any idea who she works for?”

  “Don’t see how she could, boss. No one knows you own the Dive, and those papers are buried and tangled so deep, even the feds couldn’t find them.”

  “Do you have her file?”

  “Sure thing.” He hands a plain manila folder to me and I let it stay on my desk, thinking.

  “What do we have on her?” I ask, opening the folder and moving my fingers over the glossy 5 by 7 picture stapled to the application. It’s a blonde with medium-length hair which is cut to curl toward her face and accent her strong cheekbones. Her eyes are violet. I never knew they made eyes that color. I have all my dancers photographed in nothing but their underwear, and she’s definitely got the body to make men beg. I thumb through the rest of it quickly.

  “Just what’s in the file, boss. Well, that and obviously her affection for her brother.”

  “What did we do with the little fucker?” I ask him. My eyes keep going back to the photo of the blonde.

  “He’s at the warehouse. You have him in one of the containers.”

  “So, not yet dead?”

  “No, but only because Bruno has been out for his kid’s surgery.”

  “How is Thomas?”

  “It was a success, thanks to your generosity. Bruno says they even said Thomas would be able to walk after some therapy.”

  “Good, good. Tell Bruno to hold off. The kid might prove to be useful.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking the asshole might yet prove of use to me,” I tell him without expanding. He knows me well enough that he just closes the door, leaving me to my thoughts.

  Ana Stevens. The pretty blonde dancer has no idea what trouble she just landed into. I reach down and adjust my cock because the son of a bitch has been rock hard since I laid eyes on Ana’s picture. Why does it suddenly feel like, despite everything, my day is looking up?

  Chapter 2

  Ana

  I hate everything about this club. Walking through the front doors makes me feel like I’m being locked in a prison. The staring begins immediately. Men following me with their eyes, watching every move I make. I’m not a person; I’m a piece of meat, an image they want to jerk off to, a notch on their bedpost they can brag about.

  Does that sound conceited? Maybe. There’s a difference between knowing you appeal to men and feeling beautiful. I feel tired. At twenty-six, I’m so damned exhausted of living, but I ignore it. I don’t have a choice.

  “Hey, Ana! Looking good tonight,” Joe, the sometimes-bouncer at The Dive, hollers out. I smile at him, my hand squeezing his big, scarred, beefy shoulder before walking on back to the private area.

  I know the way by heart, which is good, because my vision is limited. My eyes are hidden behind my dark sunglasses. It doesn’t matter that I’m inside. I play a role, wrapping myself in a package that makes me a mystery, all designed to make men interested. They see something unobtainable.

  In truth, the sunglasses hide the bags under my eyes until I get in the dressing room so Joyce can cover them in makeup. Not being able to sleep is a bitch.

  I sit down at the makeup table with a heavy sigh, letting my overnight bag I keep my shit in fall to the floor. J
oyce immediately comes over and starts the major tease job she always does on my hair. I hate it. I usually wear my hair simple and straight. Hell, most of the time I tie it in a messy knot and go on. But I make money off of being the Ice Queen who every man wants to melt, so I let Joyce have her way.

  “You’re late,” she chastises.

  “Been out looking for Allen.”

  “Still no luck?”

  “None. I’m starting to lose hope, J.”

  I hate having this conversation. I like Joyce. She’s been good to me, and talking about this stuff with her seems wrong. When she squeezes my shoulder tight in response, our eyes meet in the makeup mirror. We’re so different, but she’s like the mom I’ve never had. She’s fifty-two but looks to be in her early forties. She has this brown curly hair that she always has styled and teased yet clipped up out of her way. Joyce has these pretty green eyes with flecks of gold in them and they see far more than people give her credit for.

  “If you don’t start sleeping, it’s going to affect your show, Ana.”

  “I know. I tried.”

  “Might have worked if you’d quit crying over that damn brother of yours.”

  She’s not wrong. Still, I can’t seem to stop the tears. I lost Allen a year ago in every way that mattered. That doesn’t mean that having him missing is any easier. He’s been gone for over a month now. He’s disappeared before, but never this long.

  “He’s my responsibility,” I tell her, the truth of that lodging in my stomach.

  “Yeah, but he’s killing you.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “I know, doll. I know. Let’s see what magic ol’ Joyce can work to hide those bags,” she says with a sigh, going to work on my face.

  Twenty minutes later, Joyce manages to pull off a minor miracle and make me look good. I go to the wings of the stage and wait for my cue. Once I’m out there, I do my best to let everything go. I let the music take over and go through my routine like a well-seasoned veteran. I should be; I’ve been dancing for nine years now. I started before I was legal. It’s amazing what fake IDs and bosses who don’t give a fuck will get you. I can work the pole and I can shake the ass. I can do everything needed to make men horny and women beg for more. I can even look like I’m enjoying it when inside I’m slowly withering away. My set ends with yelling for more. I never give them that. Isn’t that an age old adage? Always leave them wanting more? I blow them a kiss and walk off, appearing unconcerned that my breasts are completely bare as my ass, except for a small string of material. Big Joe puts the white silk robe around me and I lean up to kiss his cheek.