I Paid Three Million for His Dignity. Now He Owns Mine

Chapter 3

He was Lucian's carbon copy from head to toe. Tall and lean, he always wore those spotless white shirts, and he buried himself in the studio from dawn until dusk.

I started stalking him and dug into every corner of his life. Luke was an art prodigy from a broken home. His mother clung to life by a thread and depended on expensive imported medication. I cornered him with a deal one afternoon. "Play my boyfriend," I said, "and I will fix all your problems."

His eyes turned icy as he sized me up like I was a threat. "Three million dollars," I continued, sliding the check across the table. "Everything gets paid. Your mother's medication, your tuition, your rent. But you will obey me."

He left the check untouched and asked, "What is the price tag?" The words dripped with frost.

"Wear white shirts every day. Paint daily. Let me study you," I said, forcing a careless smile onto my face.

Then he bit out a single word: "Fine." Desperation for his mother's sake had sealed his surrender.

Just like that, Luke became my living portrait and my captive muse. I dressed him in designer cotton and watched his fingers dance across canvases the way Lucian's used to move. Whole days vanished as I stared at him, drunk on the illusion I had built. He played his role flawlessly and accepted my lavish gifts and expensive dinners with robotic indifference.

I mistook his silence for passivity, but then his diary spilled the truth into my hands:

She treated me like a substitute. She doesn't love me. She loves that dead ghost.

I hate her. I hate her arrogance. I hate that she treats me like a puppet she can control however she wants.

How much longer must this scene go on?

Every sentence punched through me.

He had always known. The day I offered him a luxury watch and said, "We are done," his brush halted. He snatched the watch from my hand and hurled it down.

"Have you had your fill of this sick game, Jenna?" he asked.

I stood paralyzed while the realization gutted me from the inside out. This love of mine was nothing but a sick joke and a delusion I had dressed in pretty lies.

I looked at that face I had once been so obsessed with. Now, there was nothing on it but hatred.

"Luke, about what happened back then... I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" His laugh came out like razor blades. "Jenna, do you really think you can pretend none of this ever happened?"

"What do you want?" I asked because I had no other choice. He hesitated and let the words linger in the air.

"I want you to know how it feels to be treated like a plaything," he said.

Then Shae sidled up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Luke, what are you talking about? I do not understand."

Luke tousled her hair absently and said, "Adult matters. Do not worry about it, kiddo."

Shae pouted and let out a huff of annoyance. Then Luke's eyes locked onto mine, cold and calculating. "Jenna, starting today, you are my personal assistant," he said. "The pay is negotiable." Personal assistant? Was he keeping me around just to torment me slowly?

"Luke, you..." My throat tightened around the words.

"What?" he asked with a taunting smirk playing on his lips. "Are you not willing? Or is the mighty Ms. Blake too proud to lower herself to this kind of work?"

My nails dug into my palms as I balled my fists. "I will do it," I said because I owed him this much.

"Good," he replied. "Be at my hotel by eight tomorrow morning. No excuses, Ms. Blake."