BRIELLE'S POV.
"W-what?" I gasped. "You want me to… do that?"
Clarice sneered, eyeing me. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me to a corner, her voice reprimanding me.
"Are you stupid? Do you have any idea what will happen if you don't get that money?"
"But he's not even my father."
"Yet he kept you under his roof for the past eight years," Josephine stepped in, her voice harsh and bitter. "You're such an ungrateful child."
I turned around to stare at her, my whole body trembling. My stepsister and stepmother were forcing me to save my stepfather against my will.
A man who'd continuously forced himself on me. Yet they'd done nothing about it.
Now, they wanted me to help him?
"I'd rather watch him die than save him," I spat.
Josephine got triggered by my words, and she raised her hands to my face—twice, slapping me hard across the cheeks.
"How dare you?!" She shrieked, her chest heaving. "You're trying to kill my husband the same way you killed your parents?"
I held my left cheek that stung, staggering against my will. Clarice's laugh echoed into my ears, mocking me.
I didn't care what they were going to do to me, but I wasn't willing to sell my body just to save him.
My lips quivered, and my eyes burned with resistance. "I'm not sleeping with Mr. Langford."
"You've got no other choice," Josephine chuckled, her eyebrows arched. "He's already waiting for you at the hotel."
The hotel? What had they done? Had they made an appointment with him against my will?
I retreated with slow yet steady steps, tears already streaming down my cheeks.
"There's no way I'm doing that," I snapped, sobbing. "He's your husband. Find a way to save him with your money."
Clarice grabbed me from behind, keeping me bound. I'd barely noticed the signals Josephine was passing to her. They were trying to force me against my will.
"I wish you had a choice, Brielle," Josephine cooed, her slick fingers tracing my jawline. "But it's either you do this, or I sell your father's bakery to raise the money."
No. She couldn't do that. The bakery meant a lot more to my late parents than it did to me. And she knew that.
For years, that had been her bait for me.
And I was sad to admit that it always worked. I would do anything to protect my father's legacy, and that included succumbing to the dirty act she wanted me to get involved in.
My chest tightened. I swallowed the pain in my throat, forcing the words out instead through pursed lips.
"W-when am I meeting Mr. Langford?"
*
"Remember, don't say anything to him. Don't even tell him your real name."
Clarice gave orders and instructions before handing over the key to me. She'd dressed me up in one of her awfully revealing clothes—a pink backless mini gown.
It dropped on my thighs.
I felt uncomfortable wearing that but had no other option. After handing over the key card to me, she turned me around, placing me on the path that led to my doom.
My eyes stared at the number written on the key—66. The cold air seeped through my skin as I walked down the hallway. I couldn't help the unsettling feeling that washed over me.
I found myself standing in front of the door after a few minutes of walking. My eyes fell on the boldly written number that matched what I held in my hands.
Should I knock? I wondered, or was I supposed to open the door since I held the key?
Common courtesy, Brielle. Knock on the fucking door.
I raised my right hand slowly after pressing my ears against the door. It sounded silent in there, but I knocked anyway.
Knock. Knock.
No answer.
I exhaled sharply, swallowing the excessive saliva in my mouth. My body was trembling. Mr. Langford was someone I never knew—a stranger who was about to have me in his bed.
I took two steps backwards, turned around, and made an attempt to leave. Saving my father's bakery was what I wanted to do.
But having sex with a stranger for it?
It was too much. I couldn't do it.
I'd barely taken three steps when the door swung open. My nose perceived the refreshing scent of lavender and cedar that suddenly filled the air.
Without turning back to acknowledge the man I was supposed to meet, I halted abruptly in my tracks.
"What took you so long?"
His voice… nothing usual like I'd expected. It was husky, yes. Harsh. Deep. Sexy.
I tried to speak, but my words refused to form. How could a man so old sound so… hot?
My throat burned, and my fingers began to sweat and fidget. I swerved around to face him, attempting to speak with a forced smile, but I froze instead.
What in the—?
He was fucking handsome.
Gorgeous.
Damn.
My breath hitched. I found my mind totally blanking out as I stared at him. He was tall, about six feet and two inches.
His hair was dark, disheveled, yet attractively messy. My eyes stared at his lips—full, pursed, tempting.
Was this the man that was supposed to…?
"Are you lost?" His voice snapped me back to reality, eyes boring deep into my soul. "You're fucking late and just standing there… like you're staring at a ghost or something."
I shook my head, swallowing hard. When I tried to speak, a nervous laugh roughly came out, betraying and embarrassing me at the same time.
"I'm—I'm sorry," I stuttered, feeling stupid. "I was… I was—'
"Get into the room before I change my mind." He spoke hoarsely in command.
I walked in without another word, my fingers gripping the key card in my grasp. The room was dimly lit and smelled like citrus and lavender.
As well as the smell of tobacco.
He smoked? But he looked so…young.
If I guessed correctly, probably twenty-five.
He shut the door after I was three steps away from the entrance. I hadn't paid attention to his body. He wasn't wearing any shirt—and I saw how hardened his nipples were when my eyes caught them.
They were like cute, little hard rocks.
A gasp got stuck in my throat, and I was glad it didn't come out to embarrass me.
Mr. Langford turned to me, reaching for my shoulders as his warm fingers brushed through my cheeks.
"What's your name?"
I paused for another second, recalling Clarice's words at the reception.
"Miranda," I lied.
"Miranda…" he muttered, like he was tasting the name. And I wanted nothing more than to taste those lips.
"Did you get it?" He asked, his face a few inches away from mine.
I could smell him that close. He smelled like lavender, tobacco, and stale sweat. Earthy yet refreshing at the same time.
I swallowed, arching my brows in confusion.
"Get what?"
"Condoms. I specifically said you should get them." His voice sounded like he was moaning. "I don't fuck raw."
My tongue almost melted.
Why was he turning me on?
That was the strangest feeling ever. This man—this hot, attractive stranger I'd never met in my life—was making the flesh between my legs moist.
And I knew I wanted more than that.
I turned my face away, feeling my cheeks flush in shyness. He appeared and spoke like a man who knew how to dominate women in every aspect.
Especially in bed. And his eyes did something to me by just staring into them.
"I… I wasn't told—'
"—You don't look like the kind of woman that would get my dick dirty." His voice was a soft growl, and his eyes raked through my body.
"I'm fucking hard right now, and I can't wait to get protection because you were too dumb to listen."
What? My eyes widened. Did he just call me… dumb?
My stomach dropped, and every feeling of attraction I felt for him died right there.
How could he be so rude? Even with how good-looking he was?
That was unfair. And he didn't have to shift blame on me because neither Clarice nor Josephine had said anything about protection to me.
I straightened my shoulders, meeting his gaze with fierce eyes.
"I'm not dumb."
"Get on the bed and take your clothes off."
I gulped down a heavy swallow, feeling the heat of his command. As badly as I wanted to deny it, he sounded more attractive than he appeared.
I took a step back, my right hand grabbing the doorknob. He held me back by my left wrist, his nails digging into my skin.
"Where do you think you're going?"
""Home"—although it never felt like that, I still had a roof over my head. "I'm not doing this."
He huffed. "You're not leaving. I'm fucking hard right now, and you're already here."
His words irritated me yet made my insides tingle. He moved closer, pinning me against the door while he locked the door shut.
My heart raced, and lips quivered. "Let me go."
"You're not going anywhere." His lips brushed against the shell of my ear, making me suppress a tiny gasp. "I'm horny, and you're going to please me."
I didn't get the chance to think or act. His hands went rough on my skin, bunching up the mini gown I had on.
The key card slipped away from my hands while I tried to fight him off.
Tears formed in my eyes. It felt like a recurring nightmare. A familiar feeling of being trapped, just like my stepfather always did.
"Let go of me!"
He didn't listen. He wasn't even paying attention to me. Mr. Langford wrapped a hand over my neck, nearly choking me while his fingers ripped off my panties.
"This won't hurt if you stop fighting," his desire spoke through the deep voice shushing me. "Just shut the fuck up, and take this dick like a good girl."