The Billionaire’s Pet: A Forbidden Romance Page 3

  Today, I’m going to settle this thing with Cameron Purcell. I’m going to his mansion to tell him that no, I will not be his concubine despite his offer of free rent to my dad. I’m a woman with my own will, and I do not accept his terms.

  Randy ignores me when I make an appearance at the breakfast table. Or more likely, he’s already drunk despite the early hour. He slurs a couple words and then rambles off to his own room. We have no last meal together, but come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time we shared a meal. Sometimes, he would stop by the diner for a free snack, but it’s been at least a few months since he did that. Morosely, I pick up my purse and head to the bus stop.

  On my phone, I look at the address Randy texted to me late last night: 2481 Bougainvillea Lane. Hmm, that sounds like the fancy part of town.

  The bus comes, and I hop on, picking a seat in the back. As the bus wends its way through our city, I watch as the surroundings slowly become more beautiful. Soon, the grass on the ground appears more green, and the exteriors of the houses and buildings are more elaborate. Everything appears cleaner, and in better condition.

  I catch sight of myself in the window and study my appearance critically. My brown hair is wadded in curly tangles and my skin looks flushed. I look like I haven’t slept or showered in days, and suddenly I realize it’s true because I haven’t showered in a day. After getting home from the diner last night, I spent the night packing a bit before falling into bed. Thankfully, I brushed my teeth this morning so at least I won’t smell too offensive.

  Soon, we’re passing beautiful Victorian-style houses with circular driveways and elaborate gardens. Tall pine trees cover acres in the woods on both sides of the bus, and finally, the vehicle pulls to a stop at the sidewalk. The doors swish open, and I hop out before looking around. How am I going to find my way to Cameron Purcell’s mansion?

  Conveniently, there’s a sign that says “Bougainvillea Lane” right at the corner. I begin trudging along the road, and find that Bougainvillea Lane is actually a private drive. I walk and walk and walk, and feel like I’ve been hiking for miles until the path ends, and a lovely mansion comes to view.

  I gulp. Cameron Purcell lives here?

  The lane leads up to a cobblestone driveway with a round-about that contains a beautiful marble water fountain in the center. Mr. Purcell’s freshly cut lawn consists of bright green grass and his home alone has to be three stories if not more. Looking at the outside of the house makes me want to run back to the trailer park. I haven’t seen houses this exquisite even in the movies. It makes my mouth go dry and my eyes widen. Why does a man with this much wealth want me?

  I make my way up the marble steps to the portico. Standing there, I feel as if I’m standing in line to go into a museum. My fingers reach out to press the doorbell, and a few second later, the door opens, revealing Mr. Purcell himself.

  My first thought is how surprised I am that he answered the door instead of the housekeeper I expected. The second thought is that this man is godawful gorgeous. How is it humanly possible it is for a man to be this handsome? Mr. Purcell still has sleep in his eyes and a crooked smile on his mouth as he stands in the doorway wearing grey sweatpants that hang deliciously on his hips. The white t-shirt he’s wearing does an excellent job showing off his bulging biceps and lean torso, and his black hair sits disheveled on his head from last night’s sleep. Damn, mornings look good on him.

  As I stare at him, for just a moment, I see those deep blue eyes flare, and something hot runs through my form. This man wants me, I realize, and the knowledge makes me quiver at the front door. I should say no, but suddenly, I realize that I’m attracted to him too.

  What’s wrong with you? my interior voice scolds. You’re here to tell him off, Jessalyn! Don’t lose your backbone.

  But when Cameron nods and holds the door open for me, I step inside like a good girl, ready to face my future.

  What has my dad gotten me into?

  4

  Cameron

  * * *

  The moment my eyes landed on Jessalyn, I knew this was going to be fun. I’ve seen her around the trailer park. I don’t visit Sunrise very often, but I go enough to recognize a few people. Jessalyn stood out like a rose among the otherwise dingy surroundings.

  Often, I could see how perky her breasts were under her waitress uniform and the slimness of her stomach. And those hips? God, I wanted my fingers wrapped around them as I made her scream my name. Things will be fun with the curvy girl living under my roof, and it’s why I agreed when her father called my office looking for a way out of their mess. I’m not sure what possessed Randy to think that this was a good idea, but from what I can gather, Mr. Lane doesn’t have many bright ideas to begin with.

  “Good morning,” I say, stepping back into the house while holding the door open.

  Jess looks at me with a shuttered expression before defiantly stepping inside. Although she’s full of fire and sass, even the curvy girl is taken aback by the beautiful surroundings. After all, I’ve spared no expense when it comes to my home. The foyer is triple-height, with vases of fresh flowers, a marble floor, and diamond-paned windows letting in filtered light.

  But then she snaps back to the situation at hand.

  “Well, I’m here now,” she finally says in a flat tone. “What do you want with me, Mr. Purcell?”

  I ignore her rude tone.

  “Please, call me Cameron, and let me show you to your suite.”

  Unsurprisingly, Jessalyn is as stubborn as a mule. She puts her hands on her hips and glares at me.

  “I’m not doing this, you know,” she seethes. “I came here to tell you that this is illegal, criminal, and that you should be going to jail—”

  But I merely begin walking up the stairs to her room. Jessalyn’s mouth snaps shut as I leave, and then I hear her quick footfalls as she follows.

  My mansion is extravagant, and I know by her soft gasps that Jessalyn’s dazzled by the interior. There are multiple rooms, and I make sure to walk slowly, letting her soak it all in. There’s an entertainment room, a private movie theater, and a library, and that’s just on the second floor. As we walk up to the third floor, where her suite is located, I gesture to the pool outside through a clear glass window.

  “Make yourself at home while you’re here,” I say smoothly. “All of the amenities are for you to use.”

  She gasps again, her eyes going wide. The pool looks beautiful and so tempting. The turquoise water sparkles, and there’s even a fountain in one corner, and a jacuzzi spa in the other. Like I said, I spared no expense.

  We finally make it to the third floor. I walk all the way down the hall before swinging open a door.

  “Here you are,” I say politely, stepping aside. “This is your suite.” Once Jessalyn enters, a slight sigh escapes her throat.

  “Oh my god, it’s beautiful,” she whispers reverently.

  After all, this suite is a far cry from the trailer park she came from. The walls are a bright cream color with rose gold accents. Dramatic curtains frame a gorgeous view of the lawn, and there’s a giant four-poster bed with fluffy white bedding and a mix of the same rose gold color pillows. There are nightstands on each side of the bed with identical lamps and the floor is covered in plush white carpet. Jess sets her purse down on the bed and turns to me. I begin to speak before she can say anything.

  “This is your room,” I say again, before extending an arm to the closed door to my right. “And this is your private bathroom.”

  Jessalyn flushes.

  “I have my own bathroom?”

  I look at her funny before quickly wiping the look off my face. Of course she asked me that in a voice full of disbelief. All her life, she’s lived in cramped quarters sharing a bathroom with god knows how many people. That dirty scumbag of a father, definitely.

  “Yes,” I smile at her to put her at ease. “This is all yours.”

  Jessalyn shakes her head and I can tell the fight’s gone out o
f her.

  “Cameron, I don’t know what to say. This is all too…” she murmurs.

  Her words fail her as she stares at the room, and I can’t help but smile at her innocence.

  “Dinner is at six,” I say, heading out of the room. “You have the rest of the day to yourself. Settle in, explore the grounds, and have Mira make you some lunch.”

  Jessalyn starts with surprise.

  “Who’s Mira?” she asks.

  “My housekeeper.”

  “Oh. Of course.”

  I smile again.

  “All I ask is that you wear one of the outfits in your dresser to dinner and around the house,” I say. “I like my women to be suitably attired.”

  Jessalyn’s head snaps in my direction. I knew this would throw her off.

  “You bought me clothes?” she asks as her eyebrows scrunch together. “Suitably attired? What does that mean?”

  I shrug and grin.

  “Yeah. I figured you would need some new items once you got here. You can try them once I’m gone. If they’re not the right size, I can take them back. Or more accurately, my staff will take them in for an exchange.”

  Jessalyn inhales again, and I can see that stubborn look on her face, but I cut her off once more.

  “While you’re here, you’ll wear the clothes I provide you, and only the clothes that I provide you. Understood?” My voice is firm and brooks no protest this time.

  Jessalyn shifts uncomfortably on her feet and doesn’t answer, obviously not amused at my request.

  Well, she’ll learn.

  I nod and begin to close the door.

  “Don’t forget dinner is at six,” I say calmly, like our situation is totally normal. Jess looks back at me with sparks in her eyes, which I love. This is going to be fun.

  Then, I shut the door behind me and quietly make my way downstairs to my office. It’s going to be hard to focus with Jessalyn here, but I better get some work done because the fireworks start tonight.

  5

  Jessalyn

  * * *

  My eyes open a little bit later and my body feels… different. I must have drifted off after Cameron left. I feel well rested and recharged compared to the way I felt earlier this morning, which was completely exhausted. I shoot up in the bed and glance at the clock on the wall and see that it’s four o’clock in the afternoon. There are two hours left before dinner. I have plenty of time to get ready.

  I groggily get off the bed and smooth back the high thread count sheets. I admire the room one more time before making my way to the bathroom and stepping into the shower stall. Unbelievably, there’s both a shower and a tub, which I’ll have to use when I have more time. I love bubble baths, but haven’t had one in years because our trailer only has the tiniest stall.

  After a shower, I use the blow dryer and try to tame my curls, but it’s impossible. I’ve always had a mane of wild chestnut curls, and today is no different. At least they look shiny and full of bounce. Even my skin looks a bit more glowy, if that’s possible.

  Exiting the bathroom, I walk over to the closet to pick out a new outfit for dinner. Cameron probably got me everything in the wrong size. I’m a bigger girl with generous assets, and many things in the stores don’t fit me. Sometimes, I shop at the plus-size outlets, but I don’t have much money and often the clothes they sell there resemble sacks more than they do clothes.

  But when I open the closet door, a gasp escapes me because there’s nothing but string in here! Or more accurately, the closet is filled with racy lingerie of all colors: red, black, white, and every color of the rainbow. I feel my cheeks redden and the rest of my body grow hot as I take one set off the rack. The panties look like a postage stamp connected to ties, and the bra is basically see-through because it’s so sheer.

  Is this what Cameron wants me to wear around the house? I’d be embarrassed! My assets would hardly be covered, and I might as well stroll around naked.

  Surely there’s been a mistake. Yet, it’s titillating to know that the CEO wants me in lingerie only. He made it clear that he bought me “new clothes” and I flush again at the thought of Cameron selecting these items specifically for me. Does he not realize how revealing they are?

  I close the closet and move to the chest of drawers, wondering what I’m going to find. But it’s the same. Once the drawers are opened, a small whimper escapes my throat. More lingerie. There’s no mistake, this is what he wants. Cameron wants me to saunter around the mansion like a showgirl, revealing my body in these little bits of nothing. Clearly, a discussion needs to be held tonight. Cameron and I need to come to an agreement regarding what qualifies as “clothes” because we have vastly different ideas of what that word means.

  I sink onto the bed and put my face in my hands. What should I do? I didn’t bring any of my own outfits because I didn’t plan on staying. In fact, I was going to tell him off and laugh in his face.

  But instead, I’m tempted to stay. I admit it: the house is lovely, and I’ve never had my own bathroom. I’ve never had a private pool to swim in, nor a library full of books. I didn’t even go to our local library very often because I had no time to read. But now, if I stay with Cameron, I’ll have plenty of leisure time to enjoy myself. What should I do?

  Taking a deep breath, I muster up the last little bit of dignity I have, and slowly pick out a red lingerie set that does a lot more revealing than covering. But at least it’s less skimpy than the rest of the bunch, which says a lot. The bra is nothing but strings that wrap around my neck connected to two bits of cloth that barely cover my nipples. Then, the panties are like a piece of floss attached to two strings that wrap around my hips. Oh my god. I’m hanging out everywhere. My Double Ds are creamy and lush, and my pussy lips are barely shaded by the piece of cloth.

  To complete the outfit, I contemplate putting on my dirty old sneakers. But then, inspiration strikes. I open the closet door again and sure enough, there are a bunch of shoeboxes in the back. I flip through them before finding what I’m looking for: the red stilettos are the same shade as my lingerie set, and as I step into them, my posture changes. My breasts are thrust forward, and my legs seem longer. Even my hips appear fuller and wider, as if ready to accommodate a man.

  Oh god, what’s happening? I study myself in the full-length mirror. I’ve never seen myself like this: sexy and seductive. I don’t even usually wear lingerie, and especially not this kind of lingerie. I’m the type of girl who buys 3-packs of underwear from the drugstore, and not fancy French lace fripperies that probably cost a fortune.

  But I’m surprised how hot this set makes me look. Bouncy hair, fresh makeup, red lingerie and heels… who am I? And what is Cameron going to think when he sees me in this? Does he usually make his women wear lingerie? Is this the norm for him? A small bit of jealousy bubbles in my stomach and I quickly push it aside. Of course, there have been other women in the past, but it doesn’t matter. My time here is just temporary.

  The clock on the wall displays ten minutes to six and I start to make my way to the dining room since my room is a thousand miles away. The clack of my heels is loud on the wooden stairs, and I feel self-conscious. God, I wish I didn’t sound like a clip-clopping pony. Each step makes my stomach jittery. My teeth start to rattle with nerves the closer I get to the dining room and I feel like running back to my room and staying there for the night. This is embarrassing. This whole situation is embarrassing and shouldn’t be happening right now. What if one of his staff sees me on my way to the dining room? What will they think? That thought alone is enough to make me hesitate and I stop in the hallway. But then, I grit my teeth and keep going.

  I can see the entrance to the dining room just ahead. I round the corner into the ornate room, and my eyes widen. The dining room is one of the darker rooms in the house. It definitely speaks Renaissance more than it does Modern French like the rest of the house, and the walls are a rich maroon shade. There’s an enormous oak dining table in the center of the room tha
t’s big enough to sit twenty people. A golden chandelier drips from the ceiling, and I hear the crackle of the fireplace before noticing Cameron sitting in the seat at the end of the table, sipping cognac slowly.

  My breath catches in my throat as I catch sight of the gorgeous man. He’s dressed in a dark navy suit and neatly pressed white linen shirt, looking at me with an inscrutable gaze. I notice his nostrils flaring as his blue eyes rake over my exposed body slowly from head to toe before sliding their way back up to my eyes. The way he’s looking at me spreads heat through my insides.

  “You look exquisite,” he says in a low voice.

  For one of the first times in my life, I’m speechless.

  “Thank you,” is all I can whisper.

  Cameron nods once at the seat next to his.

  “Sit.”

  I do as I’m ordered and try to appear confident as I teeter on the very high heels to my seat. Once I’m in the chair, sinking into the fabric of the cushions, the room falls silent, followed by the entrance of a butler. My body flushes and my cheeks redden as I know this man is doing his best to pretend like my breasts aren’t spilling out of the tiny bra as he places a plate of food down in front of me. God, I want to crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment.

  My thoughts must be written directly on my face because once the butler leaves the room Cameron leans in and says, “You don’t have to be ashamed. My employees know to mind their own business.”

  His words don’t comfort me, but I try to relax.

  “Plus,” he adds. “You should never be embarrassed of your body. You’re beautiful, Jessalyn. Now eat.”

  Cameron begins to take small bites of his food. Not really feeling hungry myself, I use my fork to poke around at the carrots and chicken sitting before me. I can feel Cameron watching me intently.