Bought as the Billionaire's Mistress

Chapter 4 Seduce Me

Once more, I was led into a massive room with a blindfold tied tight over my eyes.

When the fabric was finally pulled away, my eyes struggled for long minutes to adjust to the suffocating darkness surrounding me.

It was an enormous bedroom, not a single lamp switched on. The windows were floor-to-ceiling and wide, yet heavy velvet curtains were drawn shut across every one, blocking out every sliver of natural light until the space was pitch-black.

A single wheelchair stood not far from the center of the room, and in it sat a man, his back turned completely to the door and to me.

Arthur bowed his head deeply, his tone laced with unwavering respect. "Mr. Desmond Finch, I've brought the candidate Mr. Victor Finch selected for you, as requested."

"Get out." The man in the wheelchair did not move an inch; only a snarl of unbridled rage cut through the silent darkness.

Arthur did not so much as flinch, clearly used to such outbursts; he stepped back and shoved me firmly into the room before vanishing entirely.

Panic coiled tight in my chest, but I forced my shaky legs to carry me forward anyway.

For the next six months, this unpredictable, volatile man—Desmond, the younger brother of Victor—would be my sole patron, the only one holding the key to my mother's survival.

"I SAID GET OUT!" Before I could take three more steps, a costly lamp hurtled through the air and smashed to pieces right at my feet.

I let out a sharp, startled cry; the broken ceramic and sharp glass shards grazed my bare ankle, slicing the delicate skin open until blood welled instantly.

I squatted down without hesitation, scrambling to gather the jagged fragments. "Mr. Desmond Finch, please be careful—don't let these cut you."

The darkness was so thick I could barely see, and in my haste, a sharp shard pierced my fingertip, drawing fresh blood.

I sucked in a pained breath, clamping my lips shut to hide the hurt, terrified of angering him further.

Without warning, strong hands curled around my upper arms and hauled me upright in one rough motion. A firm grip closed around my throat moments later, and a low, icy voice growled inches from my ear. "What promises did Victor make you this time? What makes you think you can waltz in here and seduce me?"

I gasped for breath, my vision blurring as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, my pale, fragile face twisted with fear and quiet endurance.

My voice came out hoarse and strained, barely audible. "Money. He paid me. My mother has cancer. Mr. Victor Finch told me that if you let me bear your child, he'll find the best doctors to cure her, no matter the cost."

That was the only reason I had agreed to this, the only thing pushing me through this terror despite every instinct screaming to run.

It was the exact deal Victor had struck with me earlier—if I could gain Desmond's favor, conceive his child, Victor would not only save my mother but pay me an additional 10 million dollars. If I failed, I would meet the same fate as the seven women who had come before me.

I had never imagined, though, that Desmond was confined to a wheelchair, crippled, and a violently temperamental, unstable madman to boot.

No wonder Victor had warned me he was far harder to control than himself, that Desmond was barely even human anymore.

The grip on my neck tightened, cutting off more air. "You don't know what happened to the last seven he sent here?"

"I know! But I have no other choice!" I managed to choke out, my chest burning with the need to breathe.

Desmond flung me backward roughly, and I stumbled to the floor. "I tortured every last one of those women to death. You want that money? You'll have to stay alive long enough to collect it."

His piercing eyes bore into me from the wheelchair, cold and unforgiving. "From this moment on, I am your master. Now, stay put on those glass shards. You will not move until I give you permission."

My head shot up in pure panic, my gaze locking with Desmond's for the first time.

He looked nothing like Victor—Victor carried the sharp, commanding aura of a man born to power, imposing and unyielding.

Desmond was far more brooding, his perfectly sculpted features shadowed by a perpetual darkness. His eyes were colder, clouded with a quiet fury that resembled a murky, deadly abyss, or a venomous snake watching its prey; just one glance sent a chill racing down my spine.

Right then, that snake stared at me with a cruel, menacing glint in his eyes, baring invisible fangs that promised nothing but pain.

Hurt and resentment welled up in me, but I knew better than to fight back.

I wanted to take Victor's money, so I had to fulfill my end of the bargain.

I had known from the start that walking out of this house unharmed was never an option.

I lowered myself again, pressing my bare skin directly onto the sharp glass fragments. The shards dug deep into my kneecaps instantly, but I gritted my teeth and refused to make a single sound.

Blood began to pool on the floor beneath me within seconds, a horrifyingly visible mark of my obedience.

I had no idea how long I stayed there. The bleeding from my knees eventually slowed and clotted, leaving stiff, painful bruises in its wake, and my head spun violently from blood loss and exhaustion.

Desmond had leaned back in his wheelchair and fallen asleep, but I still did not dare move an inch, keeping my head bowed and my body rigid on the glass.

The pain was searing, unbearable, a constant throbbing that shot up my legs with every tiny shift.

Hours passed before Desmond stirred awake.

His gaze landed on me, still staying obediently on the shards, and he lifted a single hand in a silent gesture to stand.

My legs were nearly useless after hours of immobilization and injury; I pushed myself up shakily, my knees screaming in agony, and lost my balance instantly.

I stumbled forward, crashing directly into Desmond's chest, my hands flying out on instinct to steady myself.

To my horror, my palms landed squarely on his crotch, hot and taut with suppressed tension, like a dormant volcano ready to erupt.

Desmond let out a low, guttural hum, his body tensing sharply as he leaned into me, his face pressing against my plump boobs.

He closed his eyes for a long moment, his breathing ragged as he fought to steady himself. When he opened them again, the darkness in his gaze had deepened, twisted with a new, dangerous edge.

"Couldn't even wait a single hour. You're that desperate to seduce me?" he asked, his voice low and venomous.