Pleasure Extraordinaire 2 (PURSUIT) (19 page)

Taylor gave away her millions? She hasn’t told me anything about it, but it sounds
like her. Michael can’t be lying about something I can find out easily with a phone
call.

Oh, my goodness. The construction project Michael assigned to them was much bigger
than Taylor’s company had in the past. If Michael decides to pursue his threat, the
cancellation of the contract in the middle of the project has the power to destroy
everything she’s worked for until now.

And, I’m pulling her down with me. Her company won’t just have a bad reputation because
of a canceled project, but also because of her whore of a sister, whose sex video
will be all over the internet. She and her husband are both in the business together.
They won’t weep just for the death of their dead daughter, they’ll break down entirely
with the loss of their livelihood, too. What the hell have I done? I couldn’t have
dragged Taylor into more desperation even if I tried.

“Why? What do you want from me?” I ask, tears stinging my eyes. “I don’t own any money
besides what I received from you. I don’t have access to highly confidential government
data. I can’t give you anything that you don’t already have. What is it that you’re
ready to destroy me for?” I should have asked him these questions before signing the
contract. Who else gives almost two million dollars to someone without an ulterior
motive? But, what can it be that he wants from me?

He moves toward me, lifts his hand, and caresses my cheek. “Soon, my dear. You’ll
find it out very soon. But for now, I expect you to be at your best behavior for the
next weekend, and you’ll do everything to please my guests.”

I work hard to swallow my disgust and not to yank his hand away. I’m ruined. I’m fucked,
and nothing or no one can save me from the shit I pushed myself into. I played with
the fire, enjoying its hotness, its bright colors, without caring about its dangers.
I brought this upon me; I’ll have to end it myself, even if it means I’ll let a line
of disgusting strangers fuck me over and over. Even if it means I’ll become Michael’s
puppet and do as he pleases with me for as long as he wants. I have no other choice.

He glares at me, perhaps angry at my unresponsiveness. “I don’t have the entire day.
Give me your answer now. Julie is waiting for my word to upload the video and the
contract on the internet. If you say no, your video will go online at this very second.”

“Okay. I’ll do whatever you want as long as you don’t hurt me or my sister.”

“Deal.”

“One more thing. You’ll fucking stay clear of my children, including Ace. Your privileges
at Pleasure Extraordinaire have just ended. If I find out that you’re anywhere around
that building except for when I order it, I’ll consider it a reason to end our deal.”

I won’t see Ace anymore? I won’t get to kiss him again, wrap my arms around his comforting
body? Pain slashes through my body at the thought of the lonely days ahead of me without
Ace soothing my pain, giving me courage to move on, and look ahead despite Michael.
Worse than the thought of having the world witness how Zane fucked me. I close my
eyes, willing my tears to not leave my eyes, and simply nod my acceptance.

“Now you’re dismissed.”

I turn toward the door, dragging my heavy body as I open it and walk through it, cursing
the first day I entered through this very doorway. How foolish and naïve I was for
believing in the idea of having my life changed with a seemingly profitable contract.
Tears rolls down my cheeks freely as I rush through Julie’s office. Just when I reach
the exit door, I see her smirking at me with contempt. She must have seen my video
and be thinking what a slut I am. Everyone else will have the same opinion of me if
Michael puts the video and the contract online.

I’m trapped, living the end of my life as I know it. I’ll have to pray that it won’t
get any worse than this, but something inside me is telling me this is just the beginning.

––––––––

THE END

Thank you for reading Pleasure Extraordinaire 2.

*

Pleasure Extraordinaire 3 is scheduled to be published in the spring of 2014. Sign
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A
dam Garnett has been known for his utterly good looks, brilliance at closing multimillion-dollar
business deals, and failed attempts at seducing his boss, Taylor Doheny: The beautiful
widow of Adam's best friend.

Three years after her husband's death, Taylor Doheny is still determined to keep her
heart locked away from men, particularly the ultimate flirt and notorious womanizer
named Adam Garnett.

She had better take care; his ravishing words, sweet promises, and provocative gestures
are threatening to break through her defenses and irrevocably get under her skin.

When Adam risks his life to rescue her during a vicious assault, Taylor can't find
it in her to ignore his broiling desire and obsessive lust for her. Will she be able
to leave the past behind and open up her heart to Adam, despite the real danger of
having her already fragile emotions crushed?

Prologue – Taylor

T
he day Jack died was the day I came close to death myself. The last seconds before
that merciless truck crashed into the back of our car replayed in my mind so many
times, I am sure it is engraved into my synapses and won’t be erased, even if I suffer
from a memory loss in the future.

We were driving on the interstate between San Diego and L.A. late at night. At exactly
eleven thirty seven, just before midnight, Adele’s “Someone like you,” began playing
on the radio. Jack hated romance pop as much as he hated snakes. So, he leaned down
to change the radio station, in spite of my pleas for him to give it a try for once,
and settled on “Hit the road, Jack” by Ray Charles. He even made a little joke about
how that evil song was written for him, before slamming on the brakes and rear-ending
the car that had suddenly pulled out in front of us.

Between the airbag blowing up on my face and the seat belt cutting into my chest,
I heard Jack yelling, “The brakes aren’t working,” over and over like a broken record.
As I tried to pull my face away from the airbag that was drowning me, blinding lights
blocked all my senses, and within a split second, the car shook with another hit.
The last thing I saw before I passed out was the roof smashed down onto the driver’s
seat.

All my hopes died with Jack, along with the meaning of my life. I had nothing to look
forward to and nothing to fear from. It was as if my taste buds for life’s offers
died altogether. Winning the jackpot or losing a limb would elicit the same effect
on me; that is, no effect at all. When I saw people laughing or hugging each other,
I turned away as though I’d accidentally clicked on the news channel in Chinese. I
stopped understanding feelings. I stopped feeling sensation of any sort. Jack’s death
emptied my emotional storage, if such a thing existed, and numbed me to the core.

And, ironically enough, the next time I looked death in the eye, it helped to set
me free from my emotional dry land, and since then, a new hope has begun limping in.

That’s probably one thing I should thank my attacker for.

“Y
ou’ve got multiple cysts on both of your ovaries, and your blood test shows hormonal
imbalance. You might experience permanent infertility issues, if we don’t treat them
now.”

Dr. Fowler’s words keep echoing in my ears like a catchy song you can’t get out of
your head. There is a long list of issues I should take preventive steps against,
cancer and osteoporosis being the top, but I don’t. So, why should I bother about
infertility issues when my husband, the love of my life, is dead, and I have no plans
whatsoever about having another man in my heart—or in my bed, for that matter?

Only, I can’t help but bother.

I’ve always wanted to have children of my own. If Jack and I’d had a child, perhaps
I wouldn’t be so numb inside. And, I’d have a piece of him with me.

I hand the valet the key of my Hyundai, vaguely aware of the stretched Bentley and
Aston Martin lined up behind, and stride toward the hotel door. The doorman greets
me and opens the door for me. I nod and walk toward the majestic hallway of Peninsula
at Beverly Hills.

My toes curl inside my five-inch-high heels as I step on the shiny marble floor, taking
extra care not to slip. I stop to take in the simple but tastily decorated cream and
brown anteroom, letting the one and only memory of me enjoying this luxurious hotel,
a popular destination for the Hollywood’s rich and famous, flash through my mind.

Jack proposed to me here in one of its prominent, private villas almost four years
ago. He’d planned everything perfectly; a delicious dinner with a violinist playing
only for us, a grape-sized diamond ring that had ‘You and me, forever’ engraved on
the inside, and a fascinating view of Beverly Hills. But, I couldn’t give a damn shit
about all the details. I had the most caring, handsome, and loving man in the world
proposing to me. I’d have melted into a puddle of happy tears, even if he’d given
me a rubber band as a ring... at McDonald’s.