Claire: The Forced Virgin Of The Billionaire

By 7:00 I was ready for him, as ready as I could possibly be to go on a date and pretend that I was okay with it.

I was in a knee-length sleeveless fitted short-sleeved gold dress with a high lace neck.

I had stammered to the dress shop lady about wanting something with a turtleneck and she laughed asking how I could think of wearing such a thing in the desert in June but then I pulled my hair back and showed her my throat and she didn’t even flinch, just strolled over to the rack that had this beautiful dress.

I kept on my new diamond earrings and wore a pair of gold strappy heels that had been paired with the dress.

Thanks to the spa, I had freshly done fingernails and toenails already with perfectly shaped brows, and I was ready to go.

I’d foregone the bikini wax today. My girlie parts had seen enough action in the last 24 hours, thank you very much.

My trip to the dress shop in a cab with my two bodyguards had been uneventful but they seemed to be very alert, probably figuring their balls were on the line if I managed to give them the slip.

When I got back to the suite I was surprised when he came out of the His bathroom ready, dressed, looking dapper, in a tuxedo.

Dapper wasn’t an adequate word, actually.

He looked like a movie star heading to the red carpet.

He was freshly shaven, his hair had been trimmed just a touch, and when he opened the bedroom door he smiled and his whiskey-colored eyes twinkled.

“You’re gorgeous,” he breathed, opening his arms, “Come here, please.”

I went into his arms and said, “Not so bad yourself,” but I couldn’t look him in the face.

He inhaled my hair, “Orange blossoms?” he asked.

I shrugged, “I guess?”

“Nice but I love what your hair smells like best at home,” he whispered.

“When are we going back?” I asked in a returned whisper.

“Tomorrow,” he answered and passed me the little gold clutch purse that I’d packed with the iPhone, a lipstick, a handkerchief, and the remaining cash from the wad of tip money he’d given me.

I noticed this morning that he’d topped it up.

“Ready?” he asked.

“You were going to, ah, brief me?”

“Ah,” he sat on the sofa and patted his knee.

I leaned to sit beside him instead but he caught me by the waist and pulled me onto his lap.

Figures; control freak.

I sat and stared at my hands in my lap.

“Ben Goldberg is a real estate developer who looks like a CPA but throw in a heavy dose of kink.

He’s getting in with some grey area and wise guy types to finance a project. He’s a little out of his element so he’s trying too hard, trying to show everyone a real good time, hence the hookers the other night.

Earlier he met with me, an associate and friend of mine, John Lewis, and a local Vegas guy, Leo Denarda, who’s a real sleaze ball.

Leo has similar interests to Juan Carlos Castillo; suspected pedophile.

The only reason no one has taken him out is because a) no concrete proof yet and b) he’s very well connected in these parts.

The reason I tell you this is so you know he’s not a friend, be polite, of course, but know he’s not a friend. We’ll be doing a dinner and a show thing with them and a few other couples.

A little bit of business is going to be discussed but very little. The project is a legal brothel just outside of town.

He wants to expand, make it into an adult theme park and fetish club and we’ve all gotten the pitch and seen the financials and business plan but tonight’s his last kick at the can through schmoozing all the potential investors with their wives or girlfriends.

He’s doing this dinner and then we’re all going to a show and then we’ve been invited to his club to check out a show. I suspect you and I will be done after the show, the Blue Man Group.

I’m here representing the Clarke family and this is an area my uncle wants explored.

It’s probably the last major project he’s delegating to me before retirement.

I won’t bore you with any other details and in general you don’t need details as I do not plan to bring you into the fold with business but for this, appearances are important and I wanted you to know the backstory so you’re not unprepared. Okay?”

I nodded, absorbing all he was talking about.

Brothels?

Pedophiles?

Nice.

And what he’d said about Juan Carlos?

That made the pink basement prison bedroom make so much sense and sort of told me what I’d refused to acknowledge while I was down there.

I cringed.

I wanted to cry imagining a child being locked in that bedroom with those cameras and that vile man.

“I know what you’re thinkin’. Ben tried that the other night, brought escorts in for all the potential investors. I told you I didn’t partake and I was honest. Tonight it’s wives and girlfriends. The only way it’s anything less than wholesome is if we opt to go to the club and the after party. I don’t think we’re doing the club and we’re definitely not touching that after party. Kay?”

“Kay.”

I hadn’t been thinking what he’d thought I’d been thinking but I already wanted this evening over and done with.

“Claire?”

“Hm?” I didn’t look him in the eyes.

I just…I couldn’t.

“I know things aren’t ideal with you and me after last night. I’ll work on that and believe me, baby, it’s a priority. I know I f****d up. I f****d up huge. But we need to put it aside tonight. We’re an engaged couple getting married in a few weeks, happily engaged. That needs to be the tone this evening. Got me?”