Well, that and my reputation.
I’m known for my dominance and wealth, and my astute unattainability. Tell a woman she has no chance at landing an eligible bachelor, and her competitive drive kicks in. She believes she’ll be the one to bring the billionaire to his knees.
I snort.
Only one woman has ever captured my focus, and it’s the one standing across the room.
I fell for her the moment I laid eyes on her at my brother’s engagement party. All demure, soft lines, pouty lips, and a gaze that held a sea of secrets. I’ve discovered most of them just by observing her so intently, but there are more I want to learn about.
Like her penchant for pinching her clit when she comes.
I want to explore that little habit with my teeth.
My brother’s laugh draws me from my thoughts. He and his friends are talking about what they intend to do to Camilla tonight.
“I mean, if she’s barren, I might as well get other uses out of her,” he jokes, making me grunt against the rim of my glass.
He’s been “getting use” out of her for too fucking long.
Then he insults her by going to play with his little Elite Maiden whores. Oh, they’re trained beautifully in the art of sex. But they lack Camilla’s upbringing. She comes from wealth and class, while the infamous maidens are picked up off the street and forced into a life of sexual servitude.
Sure, they’re well compensated for their services. Most live in lavish mistress apartments where they want for nothing while giving their bodies away for whatever depraved pleasures the elite men of this world require from them.
My brother has a harem.
Five female vixens all stowed away in a penthouse he uses primarily for fucking.
He took Camilla there once, forced her to watch him with his beauties, claiming she needed lessons on how to properly pleasure men.
Prick.
He fails to see that Camilla isn’t just a fuck toy but a prized possession meant to be paraded around and cherished.
Yes, she should be adept in the bedroom.
But she requires a much more gifted instructor than my ill-equipped brother.
I’ve been running the family company for him for years, while he runs around pretending to be the figurehead and the almighty Graves king.
Pathetic.
I hate him. However, I play my part in the background. Pretending to worship the ground he walks upon while doing all the work for him.
It serves a purpose. I needed to learn the business to be able to own it, something my father failed to teach me before his early passing. Then all the investment went into the older heir, with expectations of Warren claiming everything.
Our lives should have been switched at birth.
Alas, here we are.
I take one more sip of my brandy and set it aside, finished with the contents and tonight’s society party. I only attended to see Camilla. We rarely speak, but she’s very aware of my presence.
I purposely move by her on my way out, brushing my arm against hers.
Her intake of breath is audible. I allow it to follow me from the room and through the exterior doors.
She’ll make similar noises for me later.
Once I complete these finals tasks.
Claude meets me by the bottom of the brick stairs outside. He tosses me the keys to my Porsche and climbs into the passenger side, aware that I prefer to drive myself. I barely finished half my drink, leaving my sensibilities very much intact.
“Sir.” He dips his chin.
“Claude.”
I slide behind the wheel, my heart skipping a beat in my chest as I run through the plan in my head for the millionth time.
Claude says nothing more, his silence a welcome balm to my spirit.
Those who know me are aware of my preference for avoiding small talk. He’s also very aware of my plans for later. It benefits him as my chief of security, and also because he loathes my brother.
Warren has always treated the staff with disdain, pissing all over them—sometimes literally—and damaging their loyalty to him.
It’s a fault I noticed and rectified, choosing to align myself with those who can aid me in events like the one I have planned for tonight.
They’ll all have my back because, unlike Warren, I’ve earned their trust and loyalty.
“Is everything set?” I ask Claude.
“Yes, sir,” he replies, his eyes on our surroundings. “Window opens at ten sharp. Harvey will take care of the drink.”
I nod. “And Jacquelyn?”
“She’ll play ball.” The words were a husky growl, causing my lips to quirk.
“Did she require persuading?” The blonde bombshell was one of the maidens who frequently serviced my brother.
“She requires a beating,” Claude mutters. “She’s the linchpin of the entire plan.”
“Which is why I’ve charged you with keeping her in line.”
“And she will, even if it means I have to kill her.”
“That would be a shame,” I drawl, turning onto the highway. “You like fucking her.”
“Duty over pussy, sir.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” I echo, thinking back to Camilla. She doesn’t factor into that statement, because she’s worth more than her cunt. Elegance and intelligence run through her blood, marking her as the perfect female to carry my heir. She’ll also be a suitable companion, as she favors silence almost as much as I do.
And her books.
I can’t forget those.
She adores reading. I’ve left her several books throughout her time under my brother’s roof. The first one surprised her, but she read it and put it on her shelf. The next one made her smile. The third, she actually hugged.
Yet she never asked my brother about them.
Did she know I left them for her? I always added a touch of my cologne to each package, something I knew she could smell when she opened them.
It was meant as a test of her intellect and her ability to pay attention to detail.
I doubt she’ll fail me in this area.
She’s proven to be very observant. I touch everything in her room each time I visit, moving things just out of place to see what she’ll do. She rights them,
