Chapter Five
Clay
Today on my hand, I’ve written a big H for “hard.”
Not my dick, although it’s been hard ever since I saw Nat’s curvy little self yesterday. It’s for my heart. I’ve got to be hard. Ruthless. Cold. I can’t fall for a pair of big blue eyes, no matter how much she wrapped me around her finger in the past. I need to remember that Natalie was cold as ice when we broke up seven years ago. She acted like I was trash.
Now she’s the trash and I’m a billionaire. And that means I get what I want, no feelings attached.
Funny how I still want her after seven years and all that fucking heartache. But I always have. I’ve never stopped dreaming of her body, of her gasping kisses, the way she felt against me. There’s never been anyone for me but her.
Since I’ve got all this money, I’ve decided I’m going to fuck Natalie Weston. Not mentally—just physically. I’m going to take her in a bed, pull off her panties, and fuck her . . . and hopefully get her out of my head forever.
Back in high school, I never got to fuck Natalie Weston. At the time, I thought it was because she was a shy virgin, and I was content to wait. I loved Natalie, and she was my girlfriend. It didn’t matter how long it took for her to decide that it was time to have sex, because I knew she was going to be mine forever. She was worth waiting for.
But then Natalie dumped me. I never got to claim her, never got to make her mine. Never got to sink into her and become one. Never got to bust my first nut inside a girl, either, though that was less important to me than losing Nat. As time went on, I figured I’d eventually forget her, meet someone else, and then lose my virginity. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with waitin’.
Except I’ve never forgotten her, so I’m still a virgin at twenty-five. Seems wrong.
All of this seems wrong, actually.
With my money, though, I’m going to make it right. I don’t care if it costs all my billions, I’m going to fuck Natalie Weston and get her out of my head for good. Maybe once I’ve had her, I won’t care about her any longer.
I trace the H on my knuckles again, thinking.
Hard. Yeah.
I can be hard. I can be ruthless. I just need to remember how she dicked me over. How she gave me blue balls for almost two years when we were dating . . . and then decided I was too filthy to touch her precious Hollywood-royalty panties.
I can’t wait to touch ’em now.
I get out of the limo, indicating that my patient driver should wait awhile. Today, I ditched Knox and decided to fly solo. Having my brother there, light-fingering all the stuff in the rundown gift shop, hovering and listening in on the conversations? Just made me all nervous and weird. I don’t need nerves—I need to be focused.
I even have a speech I practiced just for this moment.
Natalie, I’m offering you a bargain. I’ve done the research on your father’s fortunes, and it’s clear that he’s spent every last dollar that he ever had from his movies. I know you’re broke. I know the upkeep on this ranch costs more than it brings in every month. I know exactly how much you owe the banks, and I’m prepared to make you a deal. I’ll save your family and your business, but you’ve got to give me what I want.
Seems pretty cut-and-dried to me. No emotions, no relationship. Just a contract for business. She has something I want, and I’m willing to pay for it.
I enter the front of the museum, even though it’s a full half hour before scheduled opening time. The bell on the door clangs obscenely loudly, and the front of the place is empty. Somewhere in the distance, a vacuum is running and immediately shuts off the moment I enter.
“Coming!” someone calls out, and my dick immediately responds at the sound of the female voice. I know who that is. I surreptitiously adjust my junk in my jeans, not wanting to be obvious.
A moment later, a figure comes rushing out, swiping her hair back from her face. Her skin is dewy with a hint of sweat, but it doesn’t detract from the fact that Nat Weston still takes my breath away every time I see her. Her cheeks are pink, making her blue eyes seem even bluer, and her pretty mouth is highlighted by a bit of lipstick. Instead of pigtails, her dark hair is loose and tumbles around her shoulders in a wavy curtain. She wears a black top with a low-plunging, deep neckline that shows off her fantastic cleavage, and a pair of tight jeans that are just begging for me to rip ’em off of her.
Nat blinks wide, and then a little smile curves her mouth. For a moment, she looks truly delighted to see me. “Hi again.”
I rub my mouth, because this wasn’t what I was expecting. I thought maybe she’d be all wary of me coming around again. Or angry. I could deal with angry. This smiling beauty’s throwing me off my revenge game. “Hi.” I hesitate, then offer her my hand to shake. Seems like it’s either that or a hug, and I don’t know if I can hug her without getting hard.
She looks surprised at my gesture and hesitantly puts her hand in mine. Her skin is soft, her fingers delicate as they brush over my skin. “I didn’t picture us shaking hands when we met again,” she murmurs.
The H on my knuckles stands out like a brand as I stare at our clasped hands. Hard. Ruthless. As cruel as she was to me. I need to remember. The thought makes my tone a little harsher than anticipated. “How did you picture it, then?”
Nat pulls away, composing herself. She seems surprised by my harsh tone. “I don’t know.” She puts that fake, overly bright smile back on her face. “How can I help you, Clay?”
She’s still close enough that I can see into the deep vee of her cleavage, and a bolt of lust fires through me at the sight. I need to not ogle her tits. I need to keep my cool if I want to get my way. No regrets. I resist the urge to rub the H on my knuckles and decide to launch into the speech I’ve prepared. “Natalie, I’m offering you a bargain.”
Her brows furrow. “Huh?”
“I’ve done the research on your father’s fortunes, and it’s clear that he’s spent every last dollar he ever made from his movies. I know you’re broke.”
Natalie reels as if struck. “You what? You came here to throw that in my face?” She gapes at me, clearly shocked. “Are you serious?”
“I didn’t come to do that,” I say swiftly. I need to regain control of the conversation. Somehow when I ran this through my head, I didn’t picture the hurt look on Nat’s face. I thought she’d be angry. Indignant. Sneering. A wounded Natalie makes it harder to do this, and it shouldn’t be hard. She crushed me beneath one of her dainty heels seven years ago. Why can’t I do the same? I launch into the next section of my speech. “I know the upkeep on this ranch costs more than it brings in every month—”
“You don’t know shit,” she retorts furiously, taking a step backward. Her hands go to her hips and she glares at me, clearly angry. “How dare you?”
Good. Her anger makes this easier. I straighten, keeping my cool as I continue to speak. “I know exactly how much you owe the banks,” I say calmly. “And I’m prepared to make you a deal. I’ll save your family and your business.”
Her expression goes soft again. “Wait, what? You will?” She reaches out and puts a hand on the wall, as if bracing herself.
I nod. “But you’ve got to give me what I want.”
Nat goes still. “I don’t understand. What . . . what is it you want?”
I cross my arms over my chest, and I know I’m looming over her, just a little. Not in a threatening way, I hope. Just want to exude authority instead of feeling like a slobbering schoolboy around her. “You agree to become my personal assistant for as long as I want you.”
Her lips part and those big blue eyes blink up at me. “An . . . assistant? Like filing paperwork?”
Damn, that’s such an innocent reaction. I can’t help but smile. Clearly my thoughts go to much dirtier places than hers. “I ain’t wanting that kind of assisting.”
One dark brow arches and I watch as her jaw almost imperceptibly tightens. “So hand jobs in the back seat of the limo, then.”
“If that’s what I feel like, yeah.” Actually, the mental image of Natalie putting her hands on my cock in the back seat of the limo is now being added as jerk-off fodder, because damn, that’s hot. “You’re going to accompany me and see to all my needs.”
“You’re asking me to hook for you, you bastard.” She looks outraged, her breasts heaving magnificently against that low neckline.
I give a casual shrug. “Maybe I am.”
“Are you trying to take me down a peg for what I said to you?” The hurt has left her face, and all that remains is anger. Good. She looks like she’s itchin’ to slap my face, and that makes me grin. She’s cute when she’s angry.
“I’m not taking anyone down a peg. I just know what I want, and I’ve decided I’m going to go after it. I didn’t get it seven years ago and I figure now with our fortunes reversed, I’ve got money and you don’t. Maybe that’ll get me places I wasn’t able to get to seven years ago by being a nice, patient guy.”
Nat gasps. “I can’t believe this! You are such a dick. I can’t believe this is what you’ve come to talk to me about.”
“What, surely you don’t think I would marry you?” I sneer, throwing the hated words back in her face.
She flinches, going quiet.
And not for the first time today, I feel like the bad guy. Like I’ve done something wrong. “Nothing to say?” I bluster, because I don’t like feeling like this.
“I’ve got something to say, all right.” Nat recovers quickly and her chin lifts. “I could take you to court and sue the hell out of you for what you’ve just said to me.”
For some reason, I love that she’s responding so fiercely to my admittedly shitty proposal. I can’t stop the grin that’s spreading across my face, and it only widens the angrier she gets. “And I could hire the best lawyers possible, settle the case outside of court for a pittance, and then you’d be back to square one. You’d still be broke and need bailing out.”
“So your suggestion is that I just spread my legs for you and close my eyes!”
“I would prefer that your eyes be open when you spread your legs for me,” I murmur, liking the mental image. “And I’d much rather you be into it. I seem to recall a time when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”
“Th-that was seven years ago,” she stammers, clearly flustered by my change in tone. Her cheeks are turning pinker and she won’t meet my eyes. “Long before you and I split and then you came to me with this horrible deal.”
“Is it such a horrible deal?” I ask. “We both get what we want.”
“You’re asking me to sell myself to you,” she whispers. “How can you possibly think that’s a good deal for me?”
“Once upon a time, you loved it when I touched you,” I tell her, stepping a bit closer. I want to reach out and touch her—her arm, her cheek, her chin, anywhere—but I force myself to shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans, not trusting myself to not grab her and just kiss the hell out of her. “I wanted to offer you this. Help me help you.”
I expect her to retort that my deal isn’t helping her much at all, and that it helps me more than her. But she only gives her head a little shake. “Doesn’t matter what I think. It could be the world’s best deal or the world’s worst deal. I still can’t take it.”
“Because of me?” I don’t know if I’m disappointed or angry. Or both.
She crosses her arms under her breasts, and it’s less angry and more like she’s hugging herself. “No. I have to take care of my father. He’s eighty-seven now and . . . not well.” Her expression grows distant.
I remember her ancient father and her too-young stepmother. That was a creepy dynamic, and I’d always wondered how she handled it. I knew that back in high school she resented her father for his string of wives and the lack of attention he showed his daughter. Guess she got over it.
But if that’s all it is . . .
“He needs a caretaker? That’s easy enough to acquire.”
She gives me a skeptical look. “It’s expensive.”
I can’t believe she’s gonna poor-mouth me. If it weren’t so ridiculous, it’d be downright amusing. “You do realize I’m rich, right? You just tell me what your price is and I’ll pay it.”
Natalie says nothing, but there’s a bleak look on her face, and her eyes are suspiciously shiny. Shit. This isn’t how I want things to go. I pull out a business card and offer it to her. “That’s my phone number and my email. Send me your list of demands. The job’s exactly what you think it is. You’re my assistant for as long as I need assisting.”
“You’ve watched too much Fifty Shades of Grey,” she mutters, but plucks the card from my fingers.
I turn and leave, heading back out to the limo. Feels like eternity has passed, even though it might have been only five minutes. I’m not sure if that went well. She might hate my guts. She might turn me down flat.
One thing’s for certain, though—after seeing her again today?
Doesn’t matter her price. I’ll pay it.
There’s nothing I want more than Natalie Weston in my bed. Nothing.
When I’m back in the limo, my phone buzzes with an incoming text. My heart hammers in my chest as I click on the screen, and I’m disappointed to see it’s only Knox, not Nat.
KNOX: How’d it go?
How did it go? Good question. I can’t stop thinking about Nat’s breasts . . . and those shiny, sad eyes. I’m going to get what I want, I think. Natalie doesn’t have much room to bargain.
Can’t help feeling like a dick, though.
CLAY: I feel like an asshole.
KNOX: Ur not an asshole. Ur a scoundrel. A rogue.
KNOX: Own it, Scoundrel.
CLAY: Just a fancy word for asshole.
KNOX: You gave her the offer. Up to her if she takes it.
CLAY: And if she does take it, it’s because she has no choice. She’s broke enough to sell herself. Still makes me an asshole.
KNOX: But then you’ll be a well-laid asshole. If ur gonna be an asshole either way, might as well get ur dick wet.
Natalie
I stare at the mountain of overdue bills on the corner of my desk as it pours rain outside. All of the notices are brightly colored and scream things like “Past Due” or “Final Notice.” Business taxes, medical bills, repairs on the museum, property taxes, credit cards, invoices for souvenirs—all of them have been slowly piling up on my desk. I tackle them the best I can, but no matter what I do, the number owed seems to grow and grow.
It feels like there’s no climbing out of this hole.
I make minimum payments, only to have the interest eat me alive. One bill gets paid off and something new appears. If we pay off the air conditioner we had to have replaced last year, the car breaks down, or a wheelchair ramp needs to be updated. Dad fell six months ago, and I’m still paying the hospital bills for that one, because the insurance company says it wasn’t truly an emergency. It’s just one frustrating thing after another. I can lift my chin, keep my head above water, and keep going . . .
Or I can sell myself to my high school boyfriend.
The thought is both loathsome and wildly appealing at the same time. God, how many times have I imagined having sex with Clay? How many times did I regret that I never gave up my virginity to him? How many times have I pictured tackling him and hopping into his bed with all the gleeful passion I’d felt for him?
For Clay to demand it for money . . . it changes things. He’s not the sweet, laughing boy I fell in love with. The person that showed up wears his face, but he’s hard and cold and a little cruel.
I don’t know what to think.
This is worse than Clay never coming back into my life, ever.
I tilt my head back, closing my eyes. I need a sign that what I’m doing is the right thing. That staying the course and keeping my pride means I can get us out of this hole. That I shouldn’t sell myself into my ex-boyfriend’s bed. That it’s just money and it can’t buy me happiness. That I’d be trading my self-esteem and self-worth away and it’s not worth it. It’s wrong and—
Something drips on my forehead.
I squeeze one eye open and peer up at the ceiling. There’s water damage, a yellowish stain on the ceiling. As I examine it, another fat droplet of water falls and splashes on my forehead. I sit up, wiping away the wetness.
That wasn’t the sign I wanted.
“Natalie?” My father’s quavering voice floats down the stairs.
I jump to my feet. “Coming!” The bills and all my worries will have to wait a bit longer. I grab a pot from the kitchen, put it on my desk chair, then head up the stairs, ignoring how much they creak.
My father’s seated upright in his bed, his blankets tucked at his waist, and for a moment, he looks so cheery and so normal that my heart squeezes. I can’t help but smile at him. We’ve never been close, but when he smiles . . . I dearly wish we were. I wish he were the dad I always wanted instead of the one I got.
“Hi, Dad,” I say as I shut the door behind me. “What’s up?”
He gestures at the chair next to his bed. “I need a favor, my dear.”
“Of course.” My father knows I’d do anything for him. I’m encouraged by his mood—and the fact that he called me Natalie. Maybe he’s going to have a good, coherent spell for a few days.
Dad nods. “I need you to run through my lines with me.”
“Your lines?” I echo, my heart sinking.
“Yes. That reading is tomorrow and you know what a stickler Jimmy is. He doesn’t like it when the actors show up and don’t know the characters.” He gives his head a little shake and then waves a hand at me. “Your mother is busy so I need you to help me with it.”
“Oh,” I say softly. “Why don’t you start?”
My father presses a hand to his chest and begins a meaningful, heartfelt speech about the perils of war. I’m sure it’s from a movie that wrapped decades ago, just like I’m sure my father’s living in that moment again. He thinks my mom’s alive. He thinks he’s still acting.
He’s not getting any better.
Hot tears pour down my cheeks as my father waves a hand at me, encouraging me to reply, but when I don’t, he just continues on, happy as could be, lost in his own little world.
This is my sign, I think.
I can’t do this.
I can’t keep it all together.
I’ve been trying and trying and the only thing I’m managing is to stop the quicksand from pulling us under quite so fast. Dad needs someone at his side night and day, or he’s going to hurt himself again. The business—and the ranch—can’t be managed by just one person.
And me . . .
I need a hero.
But since all I’ve got is Clay Price, I’m going to have to make do.
* * *
NAT: Lexi, I’m going to do it.
LEXI: You’re going to take his indecent proposal? This is just like that movie! What was it called?
NAT: Indecent Proposal?
LEXI: Ha! Right! In all seriousness, what made you decide to go for it?
NAT: We made out a lot in high school. I planned to give him my virginity then. I guess it’s not much different than doing it now.
LEXI: Except he morphed into a mighty asshole between now and then. You sure about this?
NAT: Of course I’m not sure, but I’m running out of options. Dad’s completely lost lately and I’m afraid he’s going to hurt himself again. I can’t watch him and the museum. I’ve had to leave the honor jar out on the counter for most of the day today, and the only thing it got me was a not-so-startling realization that people have zero honor.
LEXI: Aww :(
LEXI: Ur my friend, Nat. I hate to see you give up on yourself like this. I can loan u some money.
NAT: You goober.
NAT: You’re the only person I know that’s as broke as me.
LEXI: Yes, but some foolish bank sent me a credit card through the mail! Mwa-haha!
NAT: It’s sweet of you to offer, but no. I’m going to do this. It’ll solve all my problems. Girls sell their virginity online all the time now, right? This is . . . sort of like that. It’s just that I know who’s buying.
LEXI: I guess. I still don’t like it!
NAT: I don’t, either, but I’m out of options. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go wrap my body in Saran wrap to try and sweat out five pounds before Clay sees me naked.
LEXI: Apple cider vinegar b4 every meal 2!! Works!!
LEXI: And make your price a good one! He’s got billions!
LEXI: And don’t shave the bush! Fuck him! Go Sasquatch on his ass!
NAT: Lol—I love you girl.
LEXI: Love you too. XOXO
NAT: Thanks for not trying to talk me out of it.
LEXI: Why would I? Like u said, it solves all ur problems. I might not like it, but I get it.
LEXI: Just keep me posted!
NAT: You know I will!
* * *
NATALIE: Is this Clay’s phone?
CLAY: It’s me. Have you come up with your price?
NATALIE: You just get right down to things, don’t you?
CLAY: I know what I want, yes.
NATALIE: I’ve scanned in my father’s hospital bills and attached them via email to the address you sent me. I will expect those to be paid in full.
CLAY: And?
NATALIE: And there’s some other debt that I also have, attached in a second email and itemized. Again, those will need to be paid in full. There’s also a card for a live-in nursing attendant service, and that will need to be arranged for the length of time that I’ll be “servicing” you since I won’t be here to take care of my father myself.
CLAY: Go on.
NATALIE: That’s it. I accept your deal.
CLAY: You’re not asking for money for yourself? No millions to keep you in the lifestyle you’re accustomed to?
NATALIE: First of all, you’ll see that my father’s medical expenses aren’t exactly cheap. And second of all, I don’t know who you think I am that I’d try to shake you down for as much as humanly possible. I’ve done the math and this is the price I feel comfortable asking. It’s all detailed in your email.
CLAY: First of all, I expect a shakedown. I’m bargaining for sex here. My end isn’t fair and I don’t expect yours to be, either.
CLAY: Second of all, as to who I think you are? I thought I knew, but that changed right after graduation, remember?
NATALIE: You’re an ass. And okay, fine, I want a million dollars on top of everything else I’ve asked for. Happy?
CLAY: I’ll be arriving at 4 pm sharp on Monday with contracts for our deal and payment arrangements. Be waiting with a suitcase.
Natalie
It’s done. I don’t know how to feel. I’m a bundle of emotions that are all vomiting to get out.
I’m sick at heart that I’ve stooped to selling myself.
I’m relieved that the mountain of bills will be handled.
I’m secretly looking forward to a few days away from my dad and the endless caretaking.
I’m ashamed that I feel like that at all.
I stare up at the ceiling of my bedroom and feel like the world’s worst daughter and the whore of Babylon both. It’s not a fun combination.
But whatever I feel doesn’t matter. I’m doing this. Clay will get me in his bed, humiliate me or whatever he plans on doing with me, and then he’ll let me go home. I’ll be done with him and I’ll have enough money that I can breathe without feeling like the world’s about to crash down on me.
It’s awful, but I’m kind of looking forward to that part. I just need to get through the awful “humiliation sex” part. Because that has to be why Clay wants me this much, right? He’s determined to fuck me and make me regret how I dumped him back after high school. It’s got to be revenge. I shiver a little, thinking about how he stares at me. There’s an intensity to it that wasn’t there seven years ago. Maybe it’s the beard that makes him look a lot rougher and like he’s got an edge. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s gone from a rangy, good-looking teenager to a tall, sculpted man who’s got broad shoulders that can’t be hidden even by the world’s rattiest T-shirt. He looks twice as good as he did seven years ago—despite the scruffy beard and clothes—and I look like a roly-poly version of myself.
I get up from the bed and move to the full-length mirror in my room, studying my body. Nothing looks like it used to. Back in high school I had almost no breasts, a small butt, and a tiny waist. Now I practically spill out of my clothing on both ends, and I wince, hefting my boobs in my hands. Guys like a girl with curves, but I think I’ve gone straight from “curvy” to “pillowy.” Not a good look, especially when I was so lean back in high school.
I think of the cookies downstairs . . . and then I think of the Saran wrap Lexi mentioned. Shit. Maybe I have time to sweat out the five pounds before Monday. Not that five pounds is going to make a dent, but I’ll feel a little better about myself naked if I lose them.
And then I panic.
Oh god. Clay Price is going to see me naked.
This is going to be the longest weekend of my life.