Page 7 of Three Suave Billionaires and a Fake Chauffeur

Dear god, my clit seems to have awakened, but now I need to squash my legs together and tell her to go to sleep again. It doesn't help that the underwear I'm wearing—the lingerie, actually—which came with the dress is so sparse I may as well have been wearing nothing, and it would have made no difference. When I return the dress, I would just have to insist on reimbursing them for the underwear, shuddering at the thought of how much it's going to set me back.

That's a "tomorrow me" problem.

The inside of the mansion is dark. Everything is styled in black and red. We're led into the grand hall, and my eyes pop so far out of my head, I turn around with the intention of fleeing only to knock into Peter's hard, muscle-sculpted chest. He's not letting me leave, so I turn around slowly and look everywhere else except at the near-naked bodies of some of the women present. They have collars around their necks and are being led by equally beautiful men.

Okay then. This is that kind of party. The ones rich people have, and I only read about.

"Don't look so aghast, Ms. Applegate. Your job is just to smile," Warren says, and the instant he delivers his last word, we're approached by a rotund man wearing a paisley gown over a pair of velvet pants.

His cheeks are red and he seems overly jovial. He greets the billionaires with great respect and then turns to me and introduces himself as Boran Tolaj.

"Beautiful. The most beautiful here tonight. A rare gem on your arm, gentlemen. Perhaps a little sample later on if she's free."

"She belongs to us," Peter says with a smile, but there's unmistakable warning in there, too.

"Oh, of course, I see," he says and laughs, then congratulates the billionaires on such a rare find. Me, I'm too flabbergasted to accept that this is my life at this moment while my brother is in a hospital room... Then it hits me.

"Oh my god," I whisper in Warren's ear, since he was the closest one to me. "He's in the mafia," I shriek. We're all going to die. We're all going to die. We're all going to die.

"We know. Relax, sweetheart," Warren says. "Like we said, you belong to us; no one will touch a strand of the hair on your head."

No, what is going on? How can they be so relaxed? As if the man they were talking to wasn't a known mafia lord, except he couldn't be put away because there was always never enough evidence.

I can't be here. This is not what I signed up for. How did I go from one criminal—the mustache man—to another one on a very much elevated level, and worse, the billionaires seem okay with it? Worse than that even is that Boran Tolaj seemed in awe of them himself.

Chapter Six

––––––––

Lucy

This is way beyond me. At the first chance I get, I'm going to find a way out of this mansion and off the property—I don't care that the gates are locked and no one is allowed off, which makes sense since the host is the freaking mafia—go back to the billionaires' mansion, finish my illegal business, and then take Dean with me and disappear for two reasons.

One: To get the one criminal off my back.

Two: If the billionaires find out what I'm up to, with their ties to the mafia (who seem afraid of them, it should be noted), God knows what they'll do to me and Dean.

"My good friends, I have a room set up for you," Boran Tolaj says, full of pride. "You would honor me greatly if you decided to use it. All my latest sex toys, brand new for your pleasure, if you decide to take your woman there and have some fun. Or any one of the women you fancy here. Just nod in their direction, and I'll have them kneeling at your feet."

What? What kind of a party was this?

This just got a whole lot crazier, and I didn't even know the half of it yet.

I need to calm down, or I'm going to have a public meltdown, and that won't help my cause. I need to—

My phone buzzes from the designer purse I'd also been given to match my dress. Thinking it's Dean, I ready myself to tell him everything is fine. So fine. The billionaires don't suspect a thing. They're at their party now, drinking disgustingly expensive scotch with the host.

But it's from Mr. Berni, the gentleman who's selling me the rundown farmhouse so I can flip it and turn it into a bed and breakfast. My dream project. The only thing I want to do. The only thing that—

It's Mr. Berni telling me he decided to sell the farmhouse to a higher bidder and that he was sorry, but he could use the extra money. All my hopes and dreams are crushed in one text message while I'm surrounded by the richest people in the world, with a mafia crime lord thrown in for balance.

I stop myself from crying just in time. Now is not the place or time. I need to pull up my very skimpy, outrageously expensive panties and save myself.

While all the other guests are confined to the first level of the ballroom, the billionaires sit with the mafia leader on a raised stage, while he, Boran Tolaj, is flanked by two sparsely dressed women, kissing his neck and giggling when he pinches their nipples. All while talking business to the billionaires.

This is my chance. I make an excuse that I need the bathroom. They all stand up when I do, then sit back down when I leave.

Once I'm on the main floor, I speed up my walking, not looking left or right, totally avoiding the... the debauchery happening all around me, praying I don't take a tumble in the designer high-heeled shoes I'm wearing as I head toward the exit. No one is stopping me yet. I see the great big door, thrown open, the foyer just ahead, and the front entrance a little further.