Once in the house I was immediately ushered up this grand staircase. The older woman who took me to the room I’d be staying in wore typical wait staff attire, and didn't speak to me. She seemed overly stiff in general.

But I guess when you worked for a man like Jackson King you had to know your place.

The bedroom door was shut behind me and I stood there, looking around, knowing right away that this wasn't my personal room, but what I’d be sharing with Jackson. It smelled like him: this intense, woodsy aroma that instantly had my heart racing.

Out of curiosity I went over to what I assumed was the closet. I pulled open the double doors and saw Jackson’s suits lined up.

This was his room. Like, his everyday, personal room. Although I didn't know why, I was surprised that he wanted me to stay here. I was to be here for a week, and I assumed he wanted easy access to me.

I explored the room more. There was an armoire across from the bed, and when I opened it I could see clothes lined up. The clothes he wanted me to wear for him.

I ran my hands along the soft, silky material. I pulled one of the dresses off the hanger and held it out to look at it. It was definitely expensive, formfitting, and exquisitely beautiful.

Heels were on the floor, all lined up, all looking so expensive.

After putting the dress away I turned and faced the bed. It was massive, and I had no doubt about the intimacy that would happen on it—the raw and filthy things Jackson would do to me.

A flush stole over me at those images. I was a virgin, and had absolutely no experience in that department. Would he be disappointed? Or would he be the type of man who would teach me what he liked, what he wanted me to do to him?

It was then that I saw the box on the bed. I’d been so enamored by everything else that I hadn’t even noticed it. I moved closer to it, opened the box, and stared at the dress inside.

I felt my heart beat faster. The dress was gorgeous, but it was the fact that I was dressing for Jackson that made me so nervous. He’d specifically picked out this outfit for me, probably envisioned what I’d look like in it… and out of it.

The heels that sat beside the dress were stilettos—ankle-breaking heels.

I picked one of them up, ran my finger along the smooth white arch, and turned it around to see the red underside. They were gorgeous, and something I’d never actually worn before. Hell, I didn't even think I could walk in these.

They were fuck-me shoes, definitely.

I sat the heel down and picked up the dress, the material feeling heavy in my hands. The detailing was delicate, the beadwork along the bodice and hemline feminine. The white material was sheer. I knew the slip underneath wouldn’t hide much.

Chills moved along my arms. I had no doubt that tonight he'd take the dress off my body, tear my panties and bra from me, and devour every inch of me.

I lifted my hand and touched my lips, my mouth still tingling from the kiss he’d given me in the limo. He’d been so brutal, so forceful. And I’d gotten so wet because of it.

I wanted him that way, wanted that intensity, that masculinity that I knew only he could give me.

I might not know what was in store, or had any clue what I was supposed to do tonight, or for the next week. But what I did know was that I wasn't as opposed to the idea of being with Jackson as I thought I should be.

I anticipated all he would do to me, because I knew once it was said and done I wouldn’t be the same woman.

I took the items to the bathroom, which was attached to the bedroom, and looked at myself in the mirror. I had to ask myself what in the hell I was thinking. Although truth be told, it wasn't like I had much of a choice.

If I hadn’t agreed to go with Jackson I would have been throwing my father under the bus. And if I did that, who knew what the hell would've happened to him in the long run? I didn’t know what lengths Jackson would go to make his point, but I didn't want to find out.

I didn't want to tempt him or test his power.

So instead I just took this experience with a grain of salt. I hoped like hell I didn't lose my heart in the process.

I told myself that in a week this would all be over with.

But it was that part of me, buried deep down inside, the one I didn’t want to acknowledge, that whispered it didn't know how I felt about those seven days ending. Because I had a feeling once I was really with Jackson there was no turning back.

I knew there would be no mending my heart once it was given to him.