Deeper [The Underground 3] (Siren Publishing Allure) (3 page)

Three thousand ninety-six dollars and fifty-two cents. That was the amount Stella had scrounged up from her checking and saving accounts, and the little bit of money her father had saved, thanks to her. It didn’t even make a dent in the amount she owed and she felt herself falling deeper and deeper into the pit of despair. She had no family she could turn to in her time of need. The small handful of friends she did have, the ones that hadn’t left her high and dry when they found out what a hot mess her life was, didn’t have that kind of money either.

Her father was all she had, and he was the one that had gotten them in this mess to begin with.

Three days had already passed since her impromptu meeting with Tate Wessen. She had picked up extra hours at both of her jobs, but even if she worked every day, all day, it would take her months, if not an entire year to make that kind of money. Being a waitress had its perks, on busy nights, but there weren’t enough tips in the world to have her earning enough. The thought of fleeing had crossed her mind more than once, but she had quickly banished those ideas. For one thing, she had no doubt Tate and his henchmen would be able to find her. For the second thing, the money she had managed to scrounge up would only last so long and then she’d be at square one.

The only other option, and one that didn’t appeal to her, no matter how logical it seemed, was talking to Tate and seeing if they could work something out. The very thought of groveling, begging him to show mercy on her and her father, to give her more time to save their home mortified her, but she was out of options.

She took the money she had acquired, hoping beyond hope that maybe she could give it to him in a show of good faith and he would grant her request. Stella couldn’t help but feel like she was living in some gangster movie, having to ask the head boss for leniency, to not break her father’s legs for the money he owed. If she was being honest that scenario probably wasn’t too far off from reality. It wasn’t a secret that Tate Wessen used brutal force to get what he wanted, and she didn’t doubt he would exact that power on her or her father. The very thought of going over to see him was sounding worse and worse every minute she pondered it.

She stopped in front of the mirror by her front door and stared at herself. Maybe she could seduce him?
Ha! Get real, girl.

Her auburn hair was a wild mess of curls, and no matter how much product she used, there was no taming it. Leaning in, she ran her fingers under her eyes, seeing the dark circles that seemed to now be a permanent fixture on her face. She looked run-down. A sad fact, but one she could admit. The only redeeming quality was her eyes. The green was bright, and she always got complimented on them, but eyes weren’t going to woo any men into cutting her some slack and not taking her house.

She opened her purse and rifled through it until she found her small makeup bag. She normally didn’t wear any, but if she was going to try and talk a man like Tate Wessen out of taking her family home, she needed to make herself look somewhat attractive. As it was she could have been cast as an extra in
Night of the Living Dead
. She applied a coat of mascara and some lip gloss called Peachy Peach and looked at herself once more in the mirror. It wasn’t a vast improvement, but it would have to do. Her outfit was another story, though. Sweats and a holey tee wouldn’t be winning any points with Mr. Wessen.

Sweat was already starting to accrue between Stella’s breasts and down her spine. Had she ever been this nervous? Hell. No. She had stopped at the casino first, trying to see Tate, but some slinky little blonde had informed her he wasn’t there, made a phone call and directed her to one of his other businesses. So here she was, ten minutes later, standing in a small waiting room of the Rabbit Hole, the club owned by him.

She tried to find something sexy to wear, something that might appeal to a man like Tate, a man that dated stick-thin blondes with huge tits. Of course she had nothing of the sort and had settled for a sweater dress with leggings and a pair of flats. It certainly wasn’t an outfit that she saw herself seducing a man in, but the neckline was cut low and she opted out of a cami. If she bent over he would get a nice shot of her full, non-augmented B-cup-sized boobs. The dress was also snug and accented what few curves she had, which weren’t many, but she had do work with what she had.

She paced the room, her temperature rising as the seconds ticked by. Several times she glanced at the door, the metal one that was being guarded by yet another burly-ass man. The longer she stayed in this room the more she wanted to flee. She took a step forward, but before she could go any further she heard a door open.

“Miss Vincent, what a pleasant surprise.” She turned and saw Tate. He stood in the doorway, the three-piece suit he wore not hiding his raw body and muscular frame. “And four days sooner than I expected, too.” He stepped aside and gestured for her to enter.

Stella gripped the strap of her purse tighter and stepped into his office. The door shut behind her and she was acutely aware that they were alone. She had never been to this club before and found it just as exquisite as all the reviews claimed. A heartbeat passed with neither of them saying anything, and then she heard Tate clear his throat. He walked by her and sat behind his desk. He gestured to the seat for her to take and she felt like she had three days ago, sitting in front of his desk while he told her she was about to lose everything.

“So, Miss Vincent, what can I do for you?” His fingers were steepled in front of his face, his gaze penetrating. “Have you come up with the money in only three days? I’m impressed.”

Mouth gone dry, Stella couldn’t form any words. When she decided this was what she was going to do, she hadn’t really thought it out thoroughly, she realized.

“Miss Vincent?” One dark brow rose in challenge.

She cleared her throat and shifted in the seat. “Um, Mr. Wessen…”

“Tate, Stella. Call me Tate.” His voice was deep and held no room for argument.

God, she could see why he got what he wanted. What he said was a command as much as it was a request. She opened her purse and pulled out the envelope that she had shoved the three grand in. It wasn’t nearly what she owed, but maybe he would take it as good faith? Yeah, that was wishful thinking to its fullest. Hands shaking as she handed over the envelope, Tate reached out and gripped its edge. The very tips of their fingers brushed and a thrill of electricity washed through her. Snatching her hand away she clasped it in her lap and waited. He didn’t move for several moments, just stared at her. When he finally leaned back in his seat and opened the envelope, she waited for his response. He was like a statue, all cool composure and solid features.

“I’m a little confused, Miss Vincent.” He closed the envelope, but kept his fingers wrapped around it. He started tapping the edge of it against the top of his desk and she gritted her teeth at the sound of the rhythmic
tap, tap, tap
. “If my math is correct, there is barely three thousand dollars in this envelope.” He dropped the envelope and placed his elbows on the desk. Leaning forward, his gaze penetrated hers. “If memory serves me correct, I believe I explained your father owes me twenty-five grand. What you’ve brought me today is an insult if this is your only payment.” A stretch of silence surrounded them and she didn’t even know where to start. Should she beg him for more time? It seemed pathetic, but she was desperate. He had to know she couldn’t come up with that kind of money in such a short amount of time.

“I can see you don’t much care for your father’s home.” He was mocking her and a slice of anger speared through her.

“I know it isn’t the amount my father owes—”

He interrupted her. “Not even close, Miss Vincent.” His tone was hard.

Palms sweating and pulse pounding, she feared she would pass out from his stare alone. “I can’t come up with that kind of money, Tate. All of my life savings is in that envelope. I work two jobs just to pay my father’s bills. I have nothing and neither does my father.” The way he looked at her was disconcerting. It was like he was examining her, dissecting her and finding out everything that she held inside.

“Your father should have thought about that before he came to me for a loan.”

He was right, of course, but it still pissed her off. “You can’t tell me you didn’t know he had nothing before you loaned him the money. I’m sure you do extensive background checks on all your ‘clients.’” A scowl crossed his features and she felt her heart drop into the very bottom of her stomach
. Oh, shit. You stupid, stupid girl. You want him to help you. Now you’ve pissed him off.
His silence was the worst kind of response. As the long minutes stretched by without anything coming out of her mind, Stella found herself looking for a way out. This had been a bad idea. A very bad idea.

He didn’t speak for several long moments and then he finally said, “I’m not sure what you want from me.” He stood and walked over to a built-in bar in the wall. His back to her, she quickly wiped off the perspiration that was forming on her brow. Looking down at her outfit, she felt like a big ass. Had she really thought she could convince him to give her more time by wearing a low-cut dress? She lifted her gaze and found him watching her. He held another square-cut glass with amber-colored liquid in it.

“I’d ask you if you want a drink, but you declined before and I assume you will this time.”

She licked her lips and she saw how his eyes dipped down to watch the act. Maybe she was imagining it all? “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d really like a drink.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk and he tilted his head to acknowledge her request. She took that moment to stare at how the material of his suit jacket stretched across his shoulders. The muscles were clearly evident, and she let the idle thought of what he would look like without any clothes on pass through her mind. She could just imagine all those hard, defined muscles straining and flexing as he moved. Was his flesh tanned or creamy white? The glimpse of his neck and part of his chest when he had unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his tie slammed into her mind. Yeah, definitely tan.

“Miss Vincent?” His voice was close, very close. Stella snapped her eyes up and saw Tate standing right in front of her, his brow raised and the glass of alcohol for her in his outstretched hand. She took it and muttered a “thank you.” When she took a drink of the liquid she nearly sputtered it all over his desk and on his pristine white carpet. It was like fire water down her throat and she couldn’t contain the gasp and cough that followed. Tate’s laugh was rich and dark, just like the liquor she consumed.

“So, what is it exactly you want from me, Miss Vincent? More time? The deed to your childhood home back? Forgiveness for your father’s debt?”

God, he sounded like such an asshole. She gripped the glass tighter, staring at him as he made his way to a leather couch in the center of the room. His big body was sprawled on the leather. Legs slightly apart and arms behind him on the back of the couch, Tate Wessen looked like he didn’t have a care in the damn world. Truth be told, he probably didn’t.

“I’ve been called many things, Stella, but a forgiving man isn’t one of them. So, I’ll ask you again, what is it that you want from me?”

How in the hell should she answer?
Might as well just spit it out.
“I’m not trying to get out of paying you. I just need more time. You have to realize it is impossible for someone to pay back an exorbitant amount like that in only seven days.” What she wanted to tell him was, who in the hell dished out that kind of money to a man who was clearly an addict? There was no doubt that Tate had done research on her father before he gave him anything. Maybe Tate hoped people would fail? It certainly would back up his shady reputation. She had heard enough whispers and rumors about what type of man Tate Wessen was. He was always having a different woman on his arm, dealing with illegal activities, and keeping the cops quiet with monetary “donations.” The list went on and on, and looking at him right now, as he sipped on his drink and watched her with a stoic expression, she didn’t doubt any of those rumors’ validity.

“I don’t give second chances, Miss Vincent.”

Shoulders sagging in defeat, Stella knew she would have to accept the hard truth. She would lose her childhood home. She just prayed Tate didn’t take it any further and hurt her father. “Yeah, I know and I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath.

“We might be able to come to some sort of arrangement, though.”

At his statement she glanced up, hope springing forth inside of her. “An arrangement?” She would do whatever he said as long as he gave her more time to save her father’s home.

“I want you, Stella.” He finished the rest of his drink and watched her. “I’d be inclined to erase your father’s debt and give him back the deed to his home if you agree to be mine for two weeks.”

What the fuck?
She blinked a few times, trying to wrap her mind around what he had just said. Had she heard him correctly? “I’m sorry.” She shook her head, trying to clear it. “Be yours for two weeks?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “That’s right, Stella. Mine, for two weeks, in every sense of the word.” He didn’t need to elaborate what he meant. It came across loud and clear.

A dozen different emotions passed through her. Here was this man, this very dangerous man, giving her a way out. It was a backhanded way out, but a way out all the same. Could she actually do it? Give herself to him for two weeks to save her father?