We drive far from the city lights and eventually find ourselves in front of an iron security gate. After the driver punches in a few buttons on a black box outside the gates, we move forward. We wind up a long driveway with little torches placed along the way. We don’t need them, however; the place that holds my fate is clear as day, even at this time of night. It’s huge and spotlights shine upon it from every angle.
The limo stops and Landon steps out without a word. My heart takes flight in panic as I shift in my seat nervously. My door is yanked open and Landon holds his hand out, offering to help me out of the car. The smell of his fresh scent swims past me and I inhale deeply.
“What? You don’t want to grab me by my hair?” I smart, getting out without taking his hand. He sighs, undoing the button on his suit jacket. As soon as Landon shuts the door to the car, it drives off, leaving me a gaping mess staring at the mansion. It’s made out of large stone, brick for brick, grooves and crevices painting every inch of the foundation. It’s so distinguished with character I can’t look away.
“You like it?” Landon questions, his tone a shade softer than before.
“It’s-It’s incredible,” I stammer, not sure how to describe it.
“Welcome to the Blackwell Estate, Charlie. Let’s go draw up some paperwork,” Landon suggests, pressing on the small of my back. I tear my eyes from the glowing windows placed sporadically along the building and turn toward Landon. That’s right, I almost forgot; I’m his owned whore now. I jerk myself from him, anger fueling my senses.
Walking inside the estate, it’s just as breathtaking. The floor is made up of white marble, and a grand staircase sits right in the middle, rising to another floor.
“This way.” Landon walks past me, leading the way. Following him, I find a door that leads into a dining room filled with a large, oak dining table. Passing that room, Landon leads me past a black piano and an overwhelmingly large fish tank until finally, he opens a door behind the staircase.
“Take a seat, Charlie,” Landon commands, walking in behind me. I look around the oval-shaped room, ignoring his demand. A mahogany desk with a black leather chair sits in front of a wall of windows, with two black winged-back chairs placed before the desk. Looking away, my eyes find a black Persian rug placed elegantly in the middle of the room, and a large red couch along the back wall. There’s a wet bar in the corner, stacked with glasses and bottles filled with amber liquid. I peer up, finding a huge crystal chandelier illuminating the room, setting off little rainbows of light amongst my skin. This is so different than the motel, than anything I’ve ever seen. I’m stunned, as I’ve never been around such riches in all my life.
“Charlie,” Landon clips, grabbing my attention. “Sit down,” he repeats, pointing to one of the chairs in front of his desk. I scowl at him, take my heels off and head toward the chair.
“You’re not a guy who hears the word ‘no’ very often, are you?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow at him.
Landon chuckles and shakes his head. “No, I’m not. Why do you ask?” he replies, a playboy smile fitting his face.
I shrug and look around the place again. “By the looks of this place, and the arrogant authority in your voice, I’m just guessing.”
Landon drapes his suit jacket over the back of his chair and rolls his sleeves to his elbows. His chair is stunning, black with gold trimming, and exhibits power. My eyes trail up his toned arms, and my body defies my anger. My panties dampen with the thought of him grabbing me and throwing me on this desk. His body is like a hostile storm, taking charge of wherever he is, leaving a wake of masculinity and power. It’s hard not to be affected by him.
“What happened to you?” Landon mutters, shifting his chair to sit in it. I pull my eyes from his arms, and glance down at my hands. What happened to me? What a laughable concept. I should tell him to fuck off, that it’s none of his business.
I peer out from under my lashes and glare at him. While I’ve been trying to live, keep myself alive, he’s been living like a king?
“Life happened. Life happened to me, Landon,” I grit, my hands squeezing my shoes. I want to throw them at him, fucking impale him with the heel.
Landon shakes his head and opens a drawer, pulling out some papers.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s nothing my team can’t handle,” he mutters coldly, slamming the drawer shut.
“Team?” I question, tilting my head to the side.
“You look like trash, but my team will make you appear like a respectable woman,” he clarifies, plucking a pen from a cup holder. My mouth gapes open, offended.