Romance: The Billionaire Alpha Collection Read Free

remove the card from my pocket and offer it to her. “That’s why I need to give serious consideration to something, and need your advice.”
    “Things must be bad if you need my advice, girl.” She swipes the card from my hand, and I almost want to fight her for it. If it disappears, so does the chance of financial freedom and the one chance I have of seeing Bryce again.
    Each time I think about the peculiar opportunity offered to me, and about the man who made the offer, I’m almost convinced to go ahead with it.
    Do I want advice, or am I really hoping Stacey will agree with the side of me screaming to be Bryce’s property for an evening?
    “It’s a posh business card.” Stacy scrutinizes either side of it, and shrugs. “So what?”
    “A little under an hour ago, the owner of the posh business card offered me $100,000 for one night of...my company. He says during that time, I’m his. That he owns me.” I blush at the memory, but rebuke myself as the weight of my feminism comes crashing down about my shoulders. “I know it makes me a whore if I accept. Can’t believe I’m even thinking about it.” My eyes widen to take in my friend’s reaction, waiting for the news to filter around her caffeine-addled mind. “It’s bullshit, isn’t it?”
    Stacy gapes for a moment, then says, “Hang on, you mean like Robert Redford and Demi Moore in...” She clicks her fingers. “You know...the movie, what’s it called?”
    “Indecent Proposal!”
    “Yep. Loved that movie.”
    I slump down next to her, relieved, and check the time. Just two hours before her next shift begins. Reality sucks.
    “Madness, right? Although he didn’t offer me a million, sure feels like it to me.”
    “Yeah, this guy’s cheap.” Stacey says sarcastically.
    We both laugh, ignoring the severity of the subject for a moment.
    “Why me, Stacey? Of all the women out there and he stops me? Of all the high-class escorts who’d do if for far less, who’d be more knowledgeable and entertaining.”
    Stacey’s eyes widen. “Maybe he doesn’t find sex workers attractive? Maybe an unassuming girl-next-door type is exactly what feeds his fantasies. He sounds like a ‘Dom’ if he used that phrase, so I doubt he wants a pro.”
    “What phrase?” I ask, but remember Bryce saying I own you, and wiggle on the seat. “Oh, the bit about ownership? Yeah, I thought that sounded scary. But shouldn’t he want, I dunno, a submissive woman to fit a Dom fantasy? A woman who knows how to be submissive? One who knows about all that bondage stuff?” A chuckle sticks in my chest, ambushed by conflicting emotions, and burns like trapped wind. I lay a hand on my chest. “Closest I get to all that is on my Kindle, thankfully.”
    Stacey winks. “You, me, and half the women in the Western world.”
    We both snigger.
    “I can dream about that fantasy all night, but if a fella comes near me with a whip, I’ll break his fingers.” Stacy screams with laughter this time, but I can’t.
    Instead, I imagine Bryce brandishing a whip and wearing nothing but a leather thong, and a blanket of sweat covers my back.
    “Of course,” my voice shakes as I speak, “he may well be a psychopath who wants to cut me into a thousand pieces and feed me to his cannibalistic Dom chums.”
    We go silent, and the atmosphere is tense when we look at each other.
    “No way. Why bother with the conversation, the contract offer, or the card. He could have just chatted you up, took you on a date, pretended to like you, then cut you up into a thousand pieces.”
    This shouldn’t reassure me, but it does. “Good point.”
    “So, what’s he look like?” She grins, rubbing her hands together. “This wealthy Dom of yours? Is he worth the money?”
    “Oh yes,” I gush, “You have never saw anyone like him. I mean, models have nothing on this guy.”
    “Details please.”
    “Okay, well. He has the palest, deepest set eyes; green, I think. Maybe pale blue-green? Piercing,