“How can I know you actually have this kind of money?”
“Call Tamiya and ask her.”
This man is so damn cocky. I hate that he’s so sure of himself, but I also hate that he’s right, and I hate that I’m strangely attracted to him. Not enough to fall in love with him, but definitely enough that when he pushes me to the brink of attempted murder, I’ll be motivated to have hate sex with him instead.
He can’t really make me sign this contract, and I know it’s technically my choice, but I almost wish that it wasn’t. Because what kind of crazy person would sign this type of document and give her womb away for 39 weeks to a dangerous, potentially criminal outlaw.
“Perfect,” Magnum grunts once he gets what he wants. “Pleasure doing business with you, Damara.”
Chapter Eleven
Magnum
Four Weeks Later
She signs my pregnancy contract agreeing to carry my child and stay with me until the baby comes. A large existential weight clearly lifts off my shoulder, but I expect Damara to experience the reality of her choice slowly over time. She might react just fine at first, but as her body changes with the presence of my seed, I’ll have no choice but to deal with her as she tries to fight the contract and the reality of her situation.
Damara seems like quite the fighter and honestly, I like the challenge of taming this seemingly untameable woman. For the past four weeks, the only opportunity I have to tame her is in the bedroom. Outside of the bedroom, I work, workout, and help her get her small business off the ground. I like the idea of a small event space and marijuana dispensary. It’s a controversial business, but every investor I know out in Oregon made a mint during the first gold rush after legalization.
You might get entangled with some ‘darker elements’ if you cut into any major drug dealers customer base, but it’s nothing that I couldn’t handle, especially not for Damara.
I don’t know how she explains our “whirlwind romance” to Tamiya or anyone else in the club, but the financial incentives appear to be more than enough to get Damara on board.
Good.
Financial security clearly makes her more peaceful. I sense the shift in her energy after four weeks. But there’s something else missing from Damara’s life – her period. She’s been here for long enough that she should have had it by now. I’ve been with her every night since she got here and there hasn’t been a hint of blood.
Damara sets about her duties cooking breakfast while I execute my plot.
“Glass of water?”
“Yes,” she says, looking up at me suspiciously as she chops ingredients for my favorite breakfast – a simple omelette, bacon, and toast. “Why are you being nice?”
“I’m not. Trust me.”
I fill up a large 16 ounce glass of water and carry it over to Damara, who drinks a few sips, but not enough to cause her to pee right away. I’ll need to set up my secret pee collector. Parents who suspect their kids are addicted to drugs have invented a fascinating device that I can hook up to the toilet to collect some of Damara’s pee and get answers about our mission.
I’m desperate to know, but I don’t want her to be the first to find out. Considering her position – trapped in my custody for the next 39 weeks – I’d much rather Damara slowly recognize her reality. A pregnancy test would be a slap in the face. My position differs from hers, and I’ll need to plan every detail including her doctor’s appointments, nutrition plan, exerciseplan, and building a nursery in whichever one of my houses we’ll be in for the next few months.
We still have the issue of “who the hell did this to us” to sort out, but with Damara’s missing period obsessively at the front of my mind, I need those answers first. She sips a little more water and my excitement mounts. What if the test is negative? Should I slide those sweatpants down and fuck her in the kitchen?
My cock stiffens at the thought of another attempted breeding. But my instincts are telling me that our first attempts already worked.
“You’re staring at me,” Damara accuses. She sometimes doesn’t like to see me before she’s had a cup of coffee and time to ‘enjoy the peace’ as she calls it. I consider my presence to be pretty peaceful, but apparently this pink-haired woman disagrees.
“You look hot. That’s all.”
She rolls her eyes. “Relax, Magnum. That’s not in the contract and it’s not necessary. If you want to make yourself useful, set up that Instant Pot with a little jasmine rice.”
That Instant Pot was a gift from Juliette, my cousin Hunter’s wife. I don’t know why she got me such a thing for my kitchen, or how to use it for anything, I just thought it might help a woman think of me as established, if I ever wanted to bring one home. I’m interested in the more respectable and mature kind of woman these days.
“I don’t know how to use that thing.”
Damara disapproves. “I guess you always have some woman in a contract cooking for you, huh?”
“Jealous?”
“Why would I be jealous of being your maid? I’m already stuck in a situation with you that makes absolutely no sense.”
