I’ve been hiding in my room for three days now.

I haven't talked to Caine, since his skillful fingers gave me an orgasm in the kitchen, aside from a quick hello every night when he got home.

That night, I was just looking for a midnight snack while he was supposed to be asleep. How did he even know I was there? Is there a hidden camera in this room?

I look around the bedroom, my gilded cage. I’d never slept in a place this luxurious before coming here. It's more spacious than my living room, with a bigger TV and a much nicer couch. The bed has a wrought iron frame with intricate loops in it. The bedroom floor and the walls of the ensuite bathroom are marble.

I never see anyone other than Caine in this apartment. When I need something, I'm supposed to send an email to Sasha, the assistant with the bird’s nest hair, and it appears mysteriously at the doorstep in an hour or two.

I’ve mainly ordered food this way. I guess I could try asking for expensive clothes, designer bags, or jewelry, but I don't feel right making big purchases with Caine’s money without asking first.

I knew I was going to have no contact with the outside world, but I never thought it was going to be hard.

I’ve never lived alone in my life. I went straight from my mom’s house to the apartment I share with Katie. I had no idea how lonely big, empty spaces can be. Even something as small as the echoes of my footsteps on the luxurious floor reminds me of how alone I am, and how vulnerable.

I wonder if this is some kind of leftover primitive instinct. Humans are social creatures who have always banded together for safety from the elements and wild animals. Maybe it just feels wrong to be separated from my tribe.

Now, I'm desperately trying to join a new tribe, but the only person around is my opponent in this dangerous game.

I know I have to see Caine soon. He hasn't even seen me for three nights in a row.

I wonder if he's regretting having paid such a big sum for me. What if he changes his mind and refuses to pay the $125,000 he's already promised me? The contract is for the sale of my virginity after all, so there would be no transaction if we didn't have sex, right? I wouldn't be fulfilling my part of the bargain.

It wouldn't all be my fault, though. I’ve been here for a whole week and Caine's barely made a move.

I wonder if he always keeps a girl here, if this is just normal day-to-day life for him. Maybe he pays girls six figures all the time just to live with him. Maybe those girls have no problem begging him to fuck them.

My heart clenches at the thought of Caine with some other girl. He's a lot older than me, so he must've had a lot of experience. He can't have gotten that good at manipulating the female body without lots of practice. I know all these things, but still the thought bothers me.

My ears prick up at the sound of the front door being opened.

He’s home.

My heart jumps wildly in my chest.

Damn it, sounds like he’s going back to his room straight away tonight.

God, I’m so fucking bored out of my mind I’m about to explode.

Know what my big realization is, after seven long days alone in Caine’s fancy apartment?

My whole life, I’ve always been busy. I was always multi-tasking. Hiding from Mom’s latest annoying boyfriend and studying, studying and working, working and fighting with Mom about letting Jack stay with me, consulting a lawyer and paying Mom, getting into debt and selling myself to get out of that debt…

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here, and it drives me up the damn walls. I have to do something that’s not watching TV or rummaging through Caine’s drawers—which, by the way, are mostly empty anyway.

As much as I hate to admit it, I need human interaction. And that means…Caine.

I take a deep breath and walk out of my room. I stand in front of Caine’s door, my heart hammering so hard in my chest, my whole body shakes.

How am I supposed to face him after what happened that night? The way I behaved was so shameful, moaning and panting like a bitch in heat, like I actually liked it, like I so very obviously enjoyed it.

What must he think of me?

“I can see your shadow, you know.” Caine’s voice filters through the door, deep and dripping with temptation. “Come in.”

My cheeks feel hot. This is the worst entrance ever. Well, there’s nothing left to do but to turn the handle and open the door…

“Can I help you, kitten?” Caine looks straight at me, giving me that smirk that makes me weak in the knees.

I almost gasp at the sight of him. He’s still wearing his business suit. His body is draped lazily on a big emerald-colored armchair with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He’s perfectly relaxed, yet he manages to look like a painting at the same time.

“You’re not having supper tonight?” I ask.

“I’ve eaten.” He studies me with his deep, dark blue eyes. That penetrating gaze always makes me feel so naked around him, like he’s constantly analyzing me.

“Oh. Um, okay. That’s all I came here to ask,” I say.

“Wait,” he says before I have a chance to close the door all the way. “Come in. Close the door behind you.”

I do as he says.

“Did you want to have supper with me?” He looks at me intently, like I’m the most interesting thing in the world to him right now.

“Maybe.”

“Did you miss me?” His smirk grows wider, his eyes are twinkling. He’s teasing me.

“Not really,” I say stubbornly. “I’m just bored.”

“Bored, huh? Why don’t we play a game?” Once again, I see the predator in him, about to pounce on me.

And the worst thing is, a part of me wants him to do it. I want him to choke me with his desire, make me forget about living, until all I know is the dangerous creature in front of me—the lure of his bait, the piercing cut of his claws into my flesh.

“What game?” I ask, intrigued. I shudder at the promise in Caine’s eyes. I don’t know what to expect, but that only makes this more exciting.

Caine flashes his rows of perfect teeth. He almost looks friendly, if not for that darkness in his eyes. He puts his glass down on a side table. He pats at his thigh. “Sit here.”

I pause, hesitating for a moment.

“You’re here to work, remember? This is part of the agreement.” He watches me intently as I weigh my options. As if he knows what’s on my mind, he says, “You can say no and go home if you want, but you won’t be getting the remaining payment. That’s only fair, wouldn’t you say? I’m not asking for much here.”

I nod gingerly and step toward him. The closer I get, the faster my heart beats, as if my entire body is trying to warn me to stay away from him.

Still, I persevere. I plop my ass down on Caine’s left thigh. With one arm around my shoulder, he pulls me close until I’m leaning against his chest, listening to his unhurried heartbeat.

“What’s the game?” I ask, trying to break this tense silence.

He gently shushes me and rubs my arm soothingly. “Relax,” he says.

I didn’t even realize how tense my whole body is. Being around this man activates my fight-or-flight response. He brings out my basic instincts. I try to loosen myself, let myself melt into Caine’s warm body.

I feel so small and protected when he’s surrounding me like this. But how can that be, when he’s just another person taking advantage of me?

“That’s better,” Caine says. “The game is getting to know each other. You can start by asking me a question. I’ll answer, then I’ll ask you a question.”

“Okay.” I can do that. I ask, “Why don’t you have anything in this apartment? You don’t have food. Or pens. Or books. Or even just pieces of paper.”

“Do you need more food? Or books?” Caine frowns, deep lines forming on his forehead.

“No. I mean… I mean, it’s like your apartment has everything and nothing at the same time. You don’t even have clutter.”

“I have a cleaning lady,” Caine says with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “And I only come home to sleep. And eat, sometimes.”

Fair enough. I guess rich people can outsource everything, including the collecting and maintaining of stuff. No wonder this place has no soul.

This apartment is not a home. It has everything you need in the short term, like a hotel, but nothing indicates that it’s suitable for anything long term.

It’s like Caine in that way. Hypnotizingly beautiful exterior with no soul.

“My turn. What have you been doing all day?”

Somehow, the question makes me laugh. He’s asking me about my day? The mundane question, against the dramatic backdrop of his temporary ownership of me, seems absurd.

“Anything funny?” Caine turns toward me and plants a gentle kiss on my temple, as if I just did the most fascinating thing.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ve been watching TV, mostly.”

I guess I’m lying by leaving out the bit about checking out the drawers, but if he doesn’t have anything in them anyway, it shouldn’t matter to him.

“My turn.” I take a deep breath and build the courage to ask him the question that’s been burning a hole in my brain. “Do you always have girls living here, like I am?”

“No,” he says.

“Have you ever done this before, though?”

“I’ve already answered one question, kitten. I’ll answer you, but I’ll ask you two questions as well.” Caine places one hand on my knees and strokes up and down my inner thighs. His touch sends tingles up my legs and goosebumps all over my body.

I nod.

“I have,” he says.

I curse myself for asking him yes-or-no questions. Okay, I’ll be more prepared next round. I look at Caine, challenging him. “Your turn.”

“Okay. What’s a good girl like you doing here, with someone like me?” His eyes have darkened. With a confident smirk on his face, he parts my legs so I’m straddling his thigh. He pulls me closer until my head leans back against his chest. We’re not playing anymore.

My heart pounds against my rib cage. I wonder if he can feel it. I swallow and steady myself. Just like he has done, I’ll answer this with a short sentence so there’s no chance for my voice to falter.

“I need the money,” I say.

Caine rubs the juncture of my thighs over my pants. God, how does it feel so good? I’ve never felt that good down there.

Now, before you can say, “Duh, Daisy, you’re a virgin,” let me just say that I’ve played with myself pretty extensively. Just because I haven’t done it with a guy doesn’t mean I’m not horny.

This feels nothing like that.

When Caine touches me, my nerve endings come alive and send crackles of sinful pleasure straight to my core. Everything fades away until all that matters is the ache in my pussy that’s yearning for release.

Above all, there’s a vulnerability, a dangerous element to this, that makes me crave even more.

“What do you need the money for?” Caine asks, his voice probing, poking me in a sensitive spot. I don’t really want Caine to know this. I don’t want him to pity me. That would only complicate things. This is a business transaction, nothing more and nothing less.

“I have debts,” I say between my gasps. My breathing is getting heavy. It’s getting hard to speak.

“Sure you do,” Caine says. “Why do you have debts? You like expensive things, my little flower?”

“Yeah.”

I’m glad he’s giving me an easy out. Now I don’t have to come up with some other answer. I can barely think, the way most of my brainpower is focused on the fingers dancing over my pussy.

Caine shifts underneath me and slides me down right onto the armchair. The soft fabric feels warm from the heat of his body. He’s the one who has been drinking, but I’m the one intoxicated right now, lost in Caine’s heady touch.

Caine kneels between my legs. It gives me a strange feeling of power, having such a big, wealthy, successful man like him on his knees in front of me. But I know that’s just an illusion. In reality, I’m the one who has surrendered.

“Have you been touching yourself, kitten?” Caine trails kisses up my inner thighs, making me squirm in the armchair.

“You already asked two questions,” I protest.

“We’re done playing, in case you haven’t noticed,” he says, reminding me that he’s the one who sets all the rules around here. “Now, tell me, kitten, have you been touching yourself?”

I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning. When Caine speaks, I feel the hot breath from his mouth on my pussy through my sweat pants, and it makes me yearn for his lips there. I don’t even know how being eaten out would feel, but I know I want it, now that his lips are literally one inch away.

I nod.

“Good girl.” Caine lands a kiss on my pussy over my sweat pants, and I instinctively raise my hips for more. He chuckles as my face reddens again. “Have you been thinking about me, maybe about what we did in the kitchen?”

I nod again. I can’t speak, but I’m making these weird noises, these lustful sighs and moans that fill the air despite my attempts at stifling them. Caine pulls my sweatpants and panties off my legs, and I let him.

“I can make you feel even better,” he says. His tongue makes contact with my wet folds, and he grunts as he envelops me with the warmth of his mouth, turning my body into a limp rag doll on the armchair. “I’ll teach you all the filthy, delicious things your body can do right now. All you have to do is beg me.”

My eyes snap open to see Caine’s face between my legs, his tongue darting in and out to circle my opening and tease my clit.

He wants me to what? Isn’t it enough that I’m here, letting him do what he wants to my body, in exchange for money? Doesn’t he already have what he wants?

He can have my body, but I’m not going to beg him like a pet dog.

“Well?” Caine flattens his tongue and runs it along my slit, from the bottom to the top. He hovers right over my pussy, his breath hot on my clit. “You know you want it. Beg me and I’ll give it to you.”

I’m throbbing. I need his mouth back on my pussy, but I’m not doing this. “No.”

“No?” Caine plays with my clit with the tip of his tongue, going around and around it. He sucks my lower lips into his mouth every once in a while.

My body starts to shiver. My hands grab at the green fabric of the armchair, holding on so tight my knuckles are turning white. I know I’m close. I just need a little bit more.

Caine knows it too. He knows the signs, and he deliberately extends my suffering. As soon as it feels like I’m about to finally get there, he slows down, cruelly giving me the slightest stimulation to keep me on the edge—his breath, or a graze of his lip.

“Beg me, kitten,” he demands in a voice hoarse with desire.

“No,” I say more insistently through the fog of my own arousal. I want him to know he doesn’t own me. Not really.

“Okay.” Caine sits down on the cow hide rug under the armchair and looks at me sternly. With a firm voice, he says, “Then we’re done here. It’s been fun playing this game with you. Go back to your room.”