Stassia is sated, but she isn’t asleep when I dress to leave. The question is on the tip of her tongue, it swims in her eyes as well. She wants to know where I’m going. I should tell her. Fuck. I should tell her everything.

“I’ll be back in about an hour,” I say.

She smiles, lifting her hand, and runs her fingers over my lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

Stassia assumes that I’ll be going to my own bed when I return, and I should. Giving her a small smile, I nip the pads of her fingers. “Yeah, you will, little girl,” I mutter. Her smile softens and she nods.

Wrapping my fingers in her blankets, I tug them up and over her naked back. “We’ll do breakfast,” I offer. She hums, her eyes closing as she lets out the sweetest goddamn sigh.

Leaving her isn’t easy, but I have to. Walking out of her room, I close the door behind me. I almost go back to my room, and change, but honest to fuck, I want to smell her on me the rest of the night.

Slipping into my car, I drive toward the club. I didn’t think that I would ever come back here, and yet, here I am. Keeping one eye on my rearview mirror, and one on the road, I quickly drive through the back roads to get to the club.

Once I’m parked in the back alleyway, I glance at the door and let out a sigh. Fuck, I don’t want to do this. Shoving the car door open, I jog toward the entrance. I knock three times, only to have a man shove it open.

“I need to speak to Mr. Sam,” I state.

The man pulls out his phone his eyes narrowed on me. “Name?” he barks.

“Whitaker Sullivan.”

Less than a minute later, he ends the call and steps to the side. Without a hesitation, I walk past him and toward Sam’s office. The man is there, sitting behind his desk when I walk into the room.

“I told you, no returns,” he barks.

I’m surprised he doesn’t ask about her welfare, then again maybe I shouldn’t be. He is the one who sold his own child.

“Not here to return anything. Stassia is very satisfactory,” I offer.

Sam frowns, then lifts his gaze to mine. “Why are you here then? I’m a bastard, but I won’t sell you another girl, not when you have my daughter.”

I chuckle, the thought had never crossed my mind. Stassia is enough for me, though I could completely understand the appeal. “Paparazzi were around the night I purchased her. The photographs go live in the morning. My publicist is already putting together a little press release. I needed you to be aware. They’re like dogs with bones.”

“What’s your story?”

Shrugging, I sit down in the chair across from him. “I saw her on stage. Became enamored, contacted her. Though coming up for a reason she was wearing nothing other than a lace romper was a little more challenging,” I chuckle.

Sam arches a brow, silently waiting for me to continue. “Just a night out dancing at a very exclusive, private, club. Maybe you should switch locations for a few weeks?” I suggest.

Clearing his throat, Sam’s gaze lifts to mine. “Why, do you think I have alternate locations?” he asks.

Standing, I place my palms on Sam’s desk and lean forward. “You’re lucrative, smart, and in a business where you always need a backup plan,” I say arching a brow.

Sam’s lips lift in a smirk. “I did choose correctly. This place will be abandoned within the hour.”

Without another word, I stand and leave Sam’s office. He has his shit under control, which I knew he would. I practically sprint toward my car. I have a sated, warm, naked body to slip into bed next to.

I feel something warm and heavy drape over my back. Jumping beneath the weight, I attempt to roll over. The arm pressing against my back, curls around my stomach and pulls me against a hard chest. I feel a leg slip between my legs and moan when a thigh presses against my aching center.

“Sleep, Stassi,” he grunts, his mouth touching my shoulder.

I don’t sleep. I can’t. Not when he’s pressed against me, in my bed. This is different. New. I love it way too much. I could get used to this, and then what? What happens when I get used to it, and want him here with me? What happens when I fall deeper in love with him and he doesn’t return it? What the hell happens then?

Rolling over in his arms, he shifts to allow me onto my back. His eyes slowly open as he looks down at me.

“What’s wrong?” he gently demands.

I close my eyes slowly when he lifts a hand, and uses his fingers to shift my hair behind my ear. Opening my eyes, I look into his chocolate gaze. “Is this real?” I ask.

“What?” he frowns.

Inhaling, I continue to look up at him, to watch him. “This, moment. You here in my bed, holding me. Is this just a one time thing, or is it more? Is it real?”

His eyes soften as he drops his head and the lips that fulfill all of my fantasies brush against my own. “It’s real, little girl. So goddamn real,” he growls.

Spreading my legs beneath him, I moan when his tongue fills my mouth and his cock presses against my center. Lifting my hips, I shiver beneath him as I feel his hardness against me.

Whitaker shifts, his dick slowly sinking inside of me. Without touching any part of me, except his mouth on mine and him moving inside of me, we make love. It isn’t fucking. It’s raw, emotional—it’s love.

I love him.

Down to the depths of my soul. I love this man. This man who bought me. This man who owns me.

I love him.