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Authors: Pamela Ann

Bartered

BOOK: Bartered
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A woman could be… Everything. Anything. Nothing.

I was a connoisseur of beautiful things, women included. I had not just one, but three—all exotic, stunning and would do anything I asked.

My life was grand. It was perfect
, and I was content with it all, until a little minx came along. The second our eyes clashed, giving me a glimpse of her violet blue depths that had a mixture of stubbornness and will, though with a hint of something else…

Choices were made. Decisions were done.

And, for the very first time in my life, I was challenged with something risky, igniting the animal in me.

Bartered

(The Encounter Trilogy)

Pamela Ann

Bartered

(The Encounter Trilogy)

Copyright © 2014 by Pamela Ann

All rights reserved
.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any rese
mblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, ele
ctronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without a written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

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Acknowledgements

 

To my Poppets, most especially Sherry, Chantel and Louise—thank you for letting me use your names!
And to the rest of the crew, your love and support for my work has helped me get through some tough times…when I’m emotionally and mentally drained. I can’t thank you guys enough.

 

Ashley Suzanne, you’ve been such a true gem of a friend. Words can’t be expressed enough…

 

To my editors, Kristin and Alizon, thank you for tolerating me. LOL. You ladies are beyond amazing.

 

Lastly, to the readers—none of this would be possible without your support.  Your

encouragement
and enthusiasm fills me with gratitude. Thank you for letting me pursue my passion.

 

Always yours,

Pamela Ann

 

 

 

For Phillip...

 

Your undying devotion, unwavering love

 

and ceaseless patience puts mine to shame.

 

Thank you for being the brilliant nonsensical all-around

 

person
that’s always been there for me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1

Hugo

 

“Mr. Xavier, your presence is needed sir
,” Benoît, my head of security, prompted me the second I hung up the conference call I’d had from England.

I considered him a moment, pausing as I raised my brow, before responding to him with a curt question. “In regards to what?”

My life revolved mostly around work. It was the love of my life.
The Riviera
had been in my family for generations. It was more than a five-star, luxury hotel that offered one of Europe’s finest casinos; it was in a class of its own. It was a legacy that ran in my blood. It became my soul when I had nothing left going on with my life.

This
was all I possessed.

The power.

The prestige.

The privilege.

Benoît cleared his throat before answering me with his own raised brow, “It’s about Miss Dana Bateau, sir. One of the cleaning ladies found her in your library, trying to open your safe.” He paused before sharply adding, “Sir.”

Dana…
trying to open my safe… She’s been with me for over six months, so was this her first attempt? Or the first time she had ever gotten caught?

I met her through Javier
; a man I socialized with yet never welcomed in my circle of trusted friends. Come to think of it, I didn’t have friends. I had partners, associates, acquaintances, but never friendships. I didn’t trust a lot of people, and the ones I did were a puny, trusted circle. Dana obviously wasn’t in it.

“Where is she now?” I calmly asked as I turned my attention back
to the screen, staring at the message that was before me while I waited for Benoît to continue.

“She’s
being held in the villa, sir. We’re waiting for your orders.”

“Hmm,” I murmured nonchalantly before getting up
and striding to the vast glass that covered the entire wall looking down on the night beauty of the lights of Monaco. “Wait for me downstairs. I need a moment.” Gently barking out an order, I didn’t move until I heard the soft shut of the heavy oak door before strolling towards the marbled table for my humidor. Cuban cigars were lined accordingly. Precisely. Just like my life—it was a well-oiled machine. Although, from time to time, one would find some problems. The imperfections. Like Dana.

Plucking one out of the leathered case, I reached for my ivory encrusted cutter. It was a present from one of my lovers
; one of the few gifts I truly enjoyed. The ivory tusk it had come from wasn’t the byproduct of a poacher—or such was Evangeline’s promise. She’d said it was from her elephant pet who had become horribly ill and they’d had to end her life. She’d loved the pet so much that she wanted me to have something beautiful that had meaning. She was one of the tribal African princesses, so I didn’t question her.
Surely princesses didn’t lie?
I thought with amusement as I recalled her stating the same thing. She was a woman of beauty and quick wit. I admired that about her. It was unfortunate when we ended our relationship because she was due to marry someone of high ranking from her country.

Lighting my cigar, I thought of Dana and the contents of the safe. The items in there
were of value, however they were of no importance in regards to anything vital—those were kept in a place where no one could access it other than myself.

Taking a long draw, I
was leisurely exhaling the smoke as I savored the smooth taste it left on my tongue when I heard another knock. Angered that someone dared knock on my door when I had given orders not to be disturbed other than by Benoît, I practically growled in response.

“What?”

I heard the man himself clear his throat before breaking
more news. “There’s another urgent matter, sir.”


Merde!
” It was barely noon and this day had led more surprises than Bastille Day. “Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?” (What’s happened?)

I wasn’t known for my temper
, nor did I often display it, most especially to the people I employed, but for the past week after that short and curt meeting I’d had with my father, I’d been on a short fuse, about to explode like a ticking time bomb to whomever stepped on my wrong foot.

Father kept reminding me of the oath I
had taken. Each year was the very same speech, and it wasn’t as if I was going to ever forget my vow. Yet every year, on the very same day, he visited to make sure I was in check—that I wasn’t being reckless, as he sarcastically put it.

Reckless wasn’t part of my anatomy
, however the old man persisted. Though I couldn’t lay the blame on him; we both weren’t at fault that we had been cursed. It had caused my father tremendous pain and suffering, and his “yearly reminder” was done out of love with a hefty amount of caution. It was a curse we both grieved and would endure until we left this earth.

Benoît came into view
, seeming undeterred from my outburst. “It’s a matter of a Class A client, sir. He was caught counting cards, and when security detained him, it showed he had insufficient funds to reimburse the checks.”

Money made the world go fucking round and round,
just as it did with mine.

“How much does he owe?”

“Three hundred thousand euros,” he uttered without a blink.


C’est des conneries!

(This is bullshit!) “This man owes me three hundred thousand euros, and he still managed to get inside my casino to gamble some more—,
and security didn’t flag him?

“The finance department wasn’t notified until an hour ago. The security team wouldn’t have known that, Monsieur Xavier. Our men follow protocols, never fear of that.”

They did. Of course, he was right. He was the one who made sure everything was perfect. Batard.

“Where’s this man now?”

“He’s in one of the rooms next to the finance office, Monsieur.”

“Meet me in the casino in the elevator lobby in ten minutes.” I nodded
, nose flaring as I put down my cigar, wondering how unlucky I was to be dealing with such bullshit so early in the morning.

Chapter 2

Hugo

 

“My daughter—she’ll work the debt off,” the man before me said in such a temperamental tone it somehow set me off like a rocket.

“I beg your pardon? I don’t do this sort of negotiation, Monsieur Callas—you must be mistaken.” This pompous ass of a man was telling me that his daughter—
his very own daughter
—was to pay off his debts. What a disgrace! The likes of him didn’t deserve any love and support from a daughter he would unthinkably offer like they were chopped meat from a butcher’s stall.

My subtle decline of his “generous” offer seemed not enough to get my point across because he pulled out his phone before sliding it towards me. “She’s willing to pay the debt off for me
,
if
you let me walk out of the door without charges.”

Mon Dieu!
This man was beyond appallingly dense. “And what do you suppose she’d do, Monsieur Callas? I am fully staffed. Paying off three hundred thousand euros would take her years—I don’t have such time to waste. I’m running an empire,
not
a trade show.” I ignored the phone before me, unwilling to even consider the most absurd of ideas.

This wasn’t the first time a man had written bad checks. In fact, this sort of atr
ociousness happened all the time. Rich men who couldn’t afford to bankroll their expensive lifestyle anymore were willing to auction off their best assets; heirlooms, paintings, cars, yachts—name it, I’d taken them all. I was ruthless in the business arena and every time a man offered their wife or daughters to “pay the debts off,” not only was I harder to negotiate for terms after, but I simply lost respect for them as a person, as a man.

A knock on the door interrupted us.


Oui
?” Barking at the mahogany door, I loosened my tie as I felt my temper rising. Truly, this day was outrageous.

“His daughter is here
, sir. She’s requesting to see her father.” Benoît’s voice came through the slit of the slightly ajar door.

“Merde!” I muttered through my gritted teeth as I glared at the overly confident man before me. “You invited her here?” I said accusingly.

Dark, detached eyes met my own. “I alerted her the second the security team asked me to step aside. She lives close. Besides, you might find her a gem.”

This was becoming a circus. Was this man’s gambling a family affair then?

“Let her in—”
This better be worth my time
, I thought the second the words left my lips.

Constantin Callas was known to be
a brash, unscrupulous womanizer and a degenerate gambler. This was the first time I had met the man, and I disliked him on the spot.

Both of our heads turn
ed towards the door when we heard it creak open. Upon entering, a slim figure of a woman with ink black hair and the most fascinating eyes with a small, delicate face captured my undivided attention, striking me like I had never been before in my life. My throat and my groin constricted at the same time, spellbound by the beauty and confidence she exuded. What a sight she was….

“I apologize
for interrupting your meeting, Mr. Xavier, but my father said it was urgent I join you both.” Her voice was soft, yet it hinted of enough force to mean she was to be taken seriously. Well, the woman walked into the right room because things truly just became serious.

“Leave us
,” I commanded, eyes unwavering at her while the rest of the party in the room, including her father, started to retreat behind the doors. The moment I heard silence, I decided I wanted a better view, therefore I stood up, face not giving away my thoughts, as I sized the would-be prize. My eyes roved over her delicate figure, admiring her beguiling beauty. “What’s your name?”

Her eyes snapped to mine, enthralling me for a second. A heartbeat. “Isobel
,” she stated proudly as those blue eyes with hints of violet struck me within. It was immediate. The rush so potent it left me reeling. I felt it in my gut, fueling the heated fire in my groin all the way to my cock.

“Isobel
,” I tried her name on my lips, unsure what to make of it. “So… Isobel…
What
are you doing here?”

She met my gaze, brazen and painstakingly beautiful. “I’m here to help my father.”

Ah, the old man. He was a man who knew quality, and he was certain I would get entranced the moment I laid eyes on his daughter. He knew how to bargain, I’d have to give him credit for that.

“How do you plan to help your father, Isobel?” I raised my brow, wanting to see where and how far she’d take this conversation. “Three hundred thousand
euros is not a small number.”

Determined, she only lifted her chin at me. “I can work for you—be a secretary, a cook, a companion,” she rasped out. “I could be whatever you like…”
She trailed off at the last bit of the sentence.

My mouth quirked when she couldn’t utter what she truly meant.
No, she didn’t blush, but I could tell it made her uncomfortable. As it should. No right-minded woman should offer herself to pay off her father’s debts.

“I have three girlfriends—well, two at the moment.” I retracted the second I
recalled what Dana had been up to. “I can get a woman without having to pay her that hefty amount.”

She looked confused
then panicked when my words finally sunk in. “Please, Mr. Xavier—
I beg you
—I can fill in the third position.”

She seemed desperate, making me more curious as to why she was doing this. There
had to be a good reason. “Now, why would I do that? Do you have any special skills to please me that Sherry and Chantel can’t do?”

Beautiful eyes blinked blankly at me. “No.” She shook her head dejectedly. “I do not.”

Gazing at her luminous skin, I felt almost tempted to touch it before common sense took over. “Very well. So tell me again,
why
should I hire you?”

“Because you’re a good man
, and you’d take pity on me.” Her voice was strained. “My father is a hard man, and I’m sure you have no ounce of remorse towards him, but my brother and I—my brother most especially needs him. If father decides to cut him off from his monthly allowance from my grandfather’s estate, things could get very ugly and difficult for the both of us.”


So you’re saying you’re willing to sell your body to secure your brother’s lifestyle and yours? Did I get that right?”

My heart turned cold. How often
did I see these demure, beautiful women and think them angelic, only to be proven wrong when they turned out to be after one thing? Money was a powerful thing to behold. It turned gentle souls to cruel, ruthless beings. It bred selfishness and greed, but most of all, it propelled more evilness in this world. And yet, without it, there would be no system. It was disappointing to learn Isobel was in the same pond as the rest; however, I couldn’t really say I was shocked by her admission. After all, if your father was Constantin Callas, could one really expect more of you?

She opened her cherry
glossed lips to protest, but shut them instead and made a small nod, agreeing to everything I threw at her. “I suppose, if you put it that way, then yes, I am selling myself to you.”

There was something in her voice that tugged at me, as if her sadness was something I should take notice of…
care for. It was odd.

Remaining mum, I strode towards the silver tray, took the carafe
, and poured myself some red wine. “Would you like some?” I offered before taking a sip, eyes still watching her, taking in every expression that crossed her beautiful face.

Biting her bottom lip, she shook her head to decline my offer before stepping closer
to me, brows furrowing. “What will happen to my father?”

Precisely like
the rest. Since the fool didn’t want to offer anything else apart from her, it said a lot about him and how much he cared for his children. Some people weren’t fit to be parents. But that problem wouldn’t ever be mine. I supposed I could be grateful for that.

Gazing into the remaining liquid in my glass, I paused before answering her. “He’s going to jail. As expected.”

“No. No. Please—help me,” she persisted. “Let me be at your disposal. I promise I won’t let you down.”

Very well. I shall test her resolve…
“Come tonight. And no, I won’t do anything to you, but I want you to watch how I take a woman. Then you can decide if this is something you want.”

She licked her lips before nodding nervously
at me.

Striding towards the door, I gave her one last
, lingering look. “I’ll have someone come get you tonight. Until then… Isobel.”

BOOK: Bartered
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