Innocence Lost And Love Found

Chapter 1

Smith

"Hey! "There is a line here!" exclaims a man somewhere behind me.

He sounds angry, but I do not give a fuck. The Chief of Medicine himself stated that we would always have priority here, so that guy can go to another hospital if he wishes.

However, I guarantee that no place in the world treats everyone equally. That is only a hippie pipe dream.

Hey, I do not make the rules. I just happen to be good at this game called life, and I will admit there were some lucky rolls of the dice.

So there are some advantages to being a Stark. You can not blame a man for taking advantage of all the opportunities he is been given, especially at this time.

A young nurse behind the laminate counter looks at me with green eyes, as if she is about to chew me out. "Sir, I will need you to go back to the end of the-"

"Listen," I tell her calmly, cutting her off. "Maybe you are new and do not know how things work around here, so I will let that attitude go. You are going to do exactly what I say or you will lose your job. Understand?"

She appears perplexed, her pretty green eyes as big as saucers. Without a doubt, her training has not prepared her for this. To her credit, she remains silent and gives me a small nod.

The way she clenches her jaw suggests defiance. She is outraged, but she does not want to be fired. She is a smart girl.

Under normal circumstances, I would crush every hint of impudence in her. She looks exactly like the type of girl I would like to do that to. But now is not the time.

"Tracy," I say, looking at the nametag on her chest. "Get someone in charge and tell them Jeff Stark requires immediate attention. Please repeat the name for me so that I am sure you understand."

"Jeff Stark," she says with furrowed brows and angry eyes. She is not happy about being treated like an idiot, but I need to know she will deliver the right message. My father requires immediate medical attention; who cares if her feelings are hurt?

"You are a good girl. "Now leave," I say.

I would love to see her walk away. The baby-blue scrubs she is wearing do not cling to her body, but I can see some hint of the tantalizing curves underneath. I am sure a closer look would give me a better idea.

I have more important things to do, however. I turn around to see the main entrance's automatic glass doors, which allow Pop to enter the lobby of St. Peter's Hospital. Someone at the office helped him find a wheelchair.

Pop is clutching his chest. He appears to be in pain. His breathing is labored, and he is completely covered in cold sweat.

Seeing him in that condition makes me want to yell at someone to fix him right away, or at least give him something to relieve the pain. The man appears weak; it just looks wrong.

"Mr. Stark?" A voice from behind the counter addresses me. This time, the voice was that of a man, alert and ready to take action. When I turn around, he is already making big strides around the counter to approach me.

Good. This is the level of urgency I would expect from one of our corporate charity program's biggest beneficiaries.

"My dad needs assistance." I put one hand on the man in scrubs' back and guided him to the wheelchair. I do not know who he is, but he knows who we are, which is all that matters.

He rushes toward Pop, followed by a couple of younger men in scrubs.

I observe from the sidelines as the men do what they do best. I observe from the sidelines as the men do what they do best.

I take deep breaths and follow the men down the hallway. My senses are overwhelmed by depressing fluorescent lighting and the odor of disinfectants. My muscles relax slightly, knowing Pop is in good hands, even though my heart continues to beat faster than usual.

I clench my fists. My father would not be in this situation if it had not been for them.

Fucking cops.

Chapter 2

Tracy

"Are you okay?" Catherine touches my arm softly, but it's enough to make me jump in surprise. She gives me a mischievous grin when I turn to look at her. "I love when I accidentally manage to prank you. I wasn't even trying."

I shoot her a dirty look. I'm not in the mood for any of her shenanigans today.

Don't get me wrong, I love how fun Catherine is. That's why we hang out a lot since we were in nursing school together, and also why we decided to get an apartment together.

Turns out she sucks as a roommate; she's messy, loud, and makes a habit of bringing home a carousel of men into her room-a different one every weekend.

But she's my best friend, and my surrogate family. The only family I have, other than Henry.

"What happened? You look like you want to stab those potatoes to death." Catherine drops her plastic tray on the table and pulls out the chair across from me, the metal legs dragging noisily against the linoleum floor. She ignores the annoyed stares of other hospital workers around us in the cafeteria.

"An asshole happened," I say curtly as I impale another piece of potato with my fork and put it in my mouth.

"Oh, that's right. I heard you met Smith Stark ."

"Yeah."

I'm not surprised Catherine knows his name. Apparently, I'm the only person in the entire hospital who hadn't heard about that guy. Smith Stark, everybody says his name is always mentioned in full and in a voice full of admiration.

"Tell me all about it." Catherine picks up her ham and cheese sandwich and looks at me with anticipation.

"There's nothing to tell. An asshole came. He was rude. That's all."

"Damn. Everybody else is raving about how hot he is and how lucky you are to have talked to him. And here you are, acting like it was nothing."

"It was nothing." I shrug.

"Yeah, sure. That's why you're fuming. Because it was nothing." Catherine takes a big bite of her sandwich and raises her eyebrows.

"Okay, fine. It wasn't nothing. He was condescending and entitled. He acted like he's superior. He treated me like an idiot." The red-hot anger in my chest flares up again, the fire kindled by Cathy's comment. Now I remember all the infuriating things he said, the words I've been trying to forget all day.

Good girl. Like I'm his damn dog.

"Well, he is superior, if you think about it. Let's see. Smith Stark is rich, hot, and he practically holds Dr. Dan's balls in his hands. In what way is he not superior?"

"Why would he have Dr. Dan's ... Why would he have anything to do with Dr. Dan?"

"Oh, Tracy. You sweet summer child. You can't even say balls." Catherine grins. "It's not even technically a bad word. Even kids say balls all the time. Hell, they play with balls."

I grimace. "That's...disturbing."

"What? That kids play with balls?" The grin on cathy's face widens.

"You know exactly what I mean."

"Oh, Tracy!" Catherine gasps and places a hand over her mouth. "Honestly, that is nasty. Get your mind out of the gutter, young lady."

I give Catherine a flat stare. With impatience, I ask, "What's the connection between the Chief of Medicine and the asshole?"

"You're no fun today." Catherine sighs. In a low, gossipy tone, she says, "The hospital got into big debt when we built the new wing, which was Dr. Dan's idea. We almost had to abandon the project halfway through because the construction ended up costing way more than expected. The Stark family bailed us out."

"That's crazy, that a family can be that rich."

"Right?"

I nod. "I feel bad for Dr. Dan now." I know how it feels to be chained down by debt and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

"Why? It's not like he has to pay them back. They saved his ass."

"Yeah. And now they own his ass." I know how debts work. They're never free.

"I guess," Catherine admits. "But all he has to do is give them preferential treatment occasionally, when they need medical attention. It's a small price to pay for a new hospital wing, don't you think?"

"No, he just sold the dignity of the entire hospital. Now we have to do what they say, no matter how crazy the request, or how rude they are."

Catherine narrows her eyes at me. "What exactly did Smith Stark ask you to do?"

I pause, hesitant. I know Catherine's not going to get it. She had to be there to see it for herself to get it.

"He skipped the line, and he wanted me to call someone who's in charge," I say.

"That's it? Jesus, the way you act, I thought he wanted your firstborn." Catherine breaks into another grin and adds, "Or your virginity."

"Hey! Not so loud." I look around to check that nobody's heard what Catherine has just said.

I'm already twenty-one, and it's embarrassing that I'm still a virgin. I feel like people would treat me differently if they knew.

"Word on the street is, Smith Stark is an absolute beast in bed. He knows what he's doing, if you know what I mean." Catherine moves her eyebrows up and down to emphasize her point. She takes a deep breath, stares into the distance, and lets out a dreamy sigh. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to have my first time being with a guy like Smith Stark."

I roll my eyes. "That ship has sailed, a long time ago."

"Ouch!" Catherine winces and looks me in the eyes. "Words hurt, Tracy."

It's my turn to grin. I don't know when it happened, but talking to Catherine has cheered me up after all. I still hate Smith Stark's guts, but now I'm mostly wondering how nice it would be to have that kind of money.

"God, the number of problems I could solve if I just had enough money..."

"Hey, Tracy, you still need money?" Catherine pops her head into my room as she leans on the door frame.

"Err... Hello, have we met?" I look up from Henry's homework, lean back on the headboard, and squint at Cathy. "I always need money."

"Good."

"Good?" I frown.

"Cathy, are you aware that you sometimes ask amateur questions?

"Try calling me by my full name, Catherine, even if you want to cast doubt on my question!"Catherine responded with a smile.

"well,, I have good news for you... But only if you still need money. And since you do, well, I have good news for you." Catherine grins and beckons with her hand. "Come outside."

I glance at Henry, my twelve-year-old brother, who's playing a game on my old phone while sitting in front of the cheap particle board desk by the small window, the only window in the room. "Hey, you have five more minutes to play and then you need to finish this homework, okay?"

He grunts in reply, not even bothering to look up.

I roll my eyes. Teenagers.

It wasn't too long ago that I was a teenager myself, but I had to grow up quickly, considering my childhood.

I started working really hard as soon as it was legal for me to get a job, so I could move out of Mom's as soon as I turned eighteen. Then, I continued to bust my ass so Henry could move in with me.

I didn't want him to have to endure Mom's verbal abuse longer than he had to, or deal with her lousy boyfriends. Sure, nobody ever beat us up or anything, but that woman doesn't have her shit together and shouldn't have had kids. I know what hell it is to live with her.

Now that Henry's here, he can actually play and study in peace. I ruffle his hair as I get up and walk away before he can swat at my hand.

Outside, in the living room, I join Catherine on our second-hand Ikea couch. The seat is hard and sagging from years of use. There's no give when I plant my butt down on it.

Catherine's grinning from ear to ear, which is always a bad sign. Whatever plan she has in her head, it must be diabolical.

"So, what's your big idea? Rob a bank? Mess with an old lady's will so we'll inherit all her wealth?"

"Have some faith in me, Tracy. I would never hurt another person. First, do no harm, remember?" The grin remains plastered on Catherine's face, which doesn't instill me with much confidence in her good will.

"Alright, let's hear it." I take a deep breath. This can be anything.

Over the years, Catherine has tried to convince me to get matching tattoos, TP the house of the ex who cheated on her, and join a few other students in streaking across the campus.

I said no to all those things because I didn't want to get sent to jail. I mean, if I have money problems now, how much more difficult would life be with a criminal record?

I have to admit that my life would've been a lot less interesting without Catherine's crazy ideas, though. Not all of them are completely stupid or downright dangerous.

I enjoyed crashing house parties and getting black-out drunk for free multiple times. I also joined some guys Catherine knew on their road trip to Tijuana-for free, again.

Catherine always has way more friends than I do, both because I'm always busy working and because it takes time for me to warm up to someone. I'd have no social life without her.

I brace myself.

"Okay. You know how I'm saving up for the Europe trip?" Catherine adjusts her position and leans closer conspiratorially

"You only talk about it, like, seven times a day."

"Okay. Good. So. Um, I'm just going to say it." Catherine takes a deep breath. This is not a good sign. A sane person about to deliver a sane idea doesn't get that nervous. "Lingerie waitress."

"What?" I can't believe what I'm hearing. Even by Catherine's standards, this is crazy.

"Lingerie waitress," she repeats.

"I heard you for the first time. I just can't believe you're actually considering this. Isn't that, like, illegal or something?"

"It's not prostitution, Tracy." Catherine rolls her eyes. "It's just like any of your other waitressing jobs, only you do it while wearing lingerie."

"I can be a waitress elsewhere."

"Sure you can, but do any of those other jobs pay $7,000 per night?"

My eyes widen in shock-and greed, too, I suppose. I raise my hand and hold up my palm, all five fingers outstretched. "$7,000? Are you serious?"

"Dead serious." Catherine's eyes shine with excitement. She knows she's caught my interest.

I mentally make calculations in my head. I think about the bills, the debts, the due dates, and the portion of my paycheck that will be left after taking care of the essentials like rent and food.

I could really use the money.

"Don't think about it too much. This is a no-brainer. That's a crazy amount of money for one night's work. If you think about it, it's just like working at Hooters, except you wear a little less clothing."

I turn to look at Catherine like she's a genius. "You're right. I didn't see it that way. Yeah, it is just like working at Hooters. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Catherine says.

"Nothing," I parrot. Is this starting to sound not-crazy or have I gone crazy?

"We're really lucky with the timing. They don't usually have vacancies because the job pays so well, but they just had a bunch of girls quit and now that it's party season, they're overwhelmed and understaffed. An opportunity like this doesn't come often." Catherine levels her gaze at me. "So, you're in, right?"

"No, wait. I mean, give me some time to think."

"The party's tomorrow night. I know you're not working tomorrow, so it's perfect."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. That's why they urgently need girls," Catherine says.

"Are you sure there won't be anything...weird?"

"Well, it depends on what you consider weird. Knowing you, you're probably worried about safeguarding your precious virginity." Catherine rolls her eyes.

"It's not precious, Catherine. It just hasn't happened yet. That's all."

"Okay. Whatever. Since we'll basically be walking around in our underwear, talking to men, some of them are probably going to try something. Like, you might get offers. But there's security.

"To be honest, I do know a couple of girls who have actually taken the men up on their offers. They did it out of their own free will and they got paid really well. These men are super rich. If you're interested, you may be able to charge a premium for your virginity." Catherine grins and raises one eyebrow.

I frown. That seems seedy as hell.

"Don't worry, it's a high-class event at some swanky private house. Important people will be there, people who don't want to risk their reputations over some scandal with regular girls like us. Why bother when they can date supermodels?"

"That doesn't sound too dangerous," I admit.

"Of course not. I wouldn't drag you into dangerous situations." Catherine pauses when she sees the look I'm giving her. "Okay, maybe once or twice I've tried, but you're too smart to get involved in something dangerous. I can tell you already think it's worth trying. Believe in yourself," Catherine says, emphasizing the last sentence like she's some motivational speaker.

I smile, but I still have some doubts. "How did you even hear about this?"

"A girl I know used to work for the company." Catherine often comes to me with outlandish stories and opportunities from her many friends, so her answer doesn't surprise me.

"And you trust her?"

"Yes. A-hundred percent. She's a sweet girl. She said she'd do it herself if her boyfriend wasn't getting all insecure about it. I've always wondered how she could afford all her designer bags and shoes without rich parents or a well-paying job. It all made sense when she told me about this job." Catherine speaks with confidence.

She may be spontaneous to the point of recklessness, but she's a good judge of character. I know I can trust whoever she trusts.

"Okay, let's do this." My heart pounds in my chest. I feel like I'm watching my own body from the outside as the words slide out of my mouth.

I never thought I'd get this desperate. The idea of parading my half-naked body in front of strange men sends a shiver down my spine, although, to my surprise, I also feel some pleasant flutters in my stomach.

I can't afford to overanalyze anything. I just have to keep trucking, do whatever I have to do to keep Henry and myself safe and healthy.

If I don't come up with the $50,000 I owe Felix Joesoon, he's going to hurt me-or worse, Henry. And I can't let that happen, not even if I have to whore myself out.

Chapter 3

Smith

I take a swig of the whiskey and feel the liquid blaze down my throat. This thing fucking burns. It's just what I need tonight.

With Pop in the hospital, I have to do all his work, including the kind that blurs the line between business and pleasure.

When Sandra told me I had to attend a party, at the mansion of a supplier for one of our companies, I knew I was in for a boring evening. Not that I spend my time doing anything more exciting-the opposite, in fact. I prefer to stay back at the office and get some actual work done. But I know Pop would tell me social functions are important work as well, so here I am.

It's been one week since Pop had that mean angina attack. He's going home soon. I've hired someone to look after him-remind him to take his medication at the right times, advise him on his diet, maybe even get him to exercise a little, that kind of thing.

He's getting better, which is good, but I wish he'd get better more quickly so I could go back to visiting our out-of-state and international partners in person, rather than being stuck with video calls that lag and freeze every few seconds.

Without close supervision, they gain the power to screw us over behind our backs. Sure, they may continue to behave out of the goodness of their hearts, but why risk it?

I nod and wave back at a man who's now approaching the bar. Josh Graham, the son of my Uncle Princewill . Josh's not a cousin, though; he's just an acquaintance because we're not actually related. Uncle Princewill used to work for my grandfather and has continued to stay with the family after my grandfather's death.

"How about the girls, huh?" Josh grins as he takes a seat beside me at the bar. "Barkeep! One glass of whatever you have on tap!" Josh snaps his fingers.

The bartender scowls, but Josh doesn't notice. He's already busy ogling the waitresses passing by in their little lingerie. They all wear ridiculously high heels that push their tits and ass out.

One of the girls smiles when she notices Josh staring. She saunters over and holds out her tray, while also pushing her tits forward. Giving Josh a flirty smile, she asks, "See anything you want, Sir?"

"Yes, but it's not anything on the tray." Josh smiles back at the waitress and raises his eyebrows once.

The waitress giggles and slaps Josh lightly on the arm. "Oh, you," she says.

Jesus, this is painful to watch.

I down the remaining whiskey and slam the crystal glass down on the bar, making both Josh and the girl jump from the sudden noise.

"I have to go." Without waiting for a reply, I walk away.

Fucking Josh. I had a perfectly nice spot where I was relatively safe from the crowd, and he had to invade it. That's just like him. There's more than one bar in this big mansion, but of course he had to seek me out and take over my bar.

I can't sit there and watch him awkwardly flirt with a girl. Josh has no game, but he doesn't know it. Girls are only with him because of his family's money.

I can tell because I know the signs of a gold digger. I've been dealing with them since I was old enough to notice girls. They're always throwing themselves at me but I'm not interested in being their chump, so I steer clear of them.

If they want my money, then they have to be my employees. I'm their boss and they have to do as I say or get fired. I have to protect myself, so I want things spelled out in legal documents, signed by all parties involved.

This has narrowed down my options to women who expect some form of payment for their services, women who want something other than just the pleasure of my companionship.

But I don't mind. I actually prefer it this way, so everyone knows exactly what to expect from each other. It's better than the alternative.

I wouldn't want to be Josh when the waitress is done with him. I don't particularly like Josh, but I can tell he thinks that girl actually likes him. It's never a pleasant thing to discover the truth, to find out you're just being used as a tool for buying designer stuff and climbing up the social ranks.

I wander the hallways aimlessly, letting the alcohol seep into my system, keeping a brisk pace to avoid being stopped for pointless conversations. My shoes sink into the plush carpet underfoot. The paintings hanging on the walls blur past.

That's when I see her.

She has her back to me, but she feels familiar. That honey-brown ponytail that's just asking to be wrapped around my hand and pulled. That full ass that begs to be spanked until it's red hot. I knew she'd look good out of her scrubs.

She's holding her tray of canapés for two young jocks who are taking way more time than necessary to pick out their appetizers. I can't tell what they're saying, but I can see them openly ogling her, like Josh did to the waitress from before. They're staring at her tits, slowly moving closer until she's backed away, flush against the wall. She's trapped now and probably won't escape without suffering a group or two.

Many of the men are doing the exact same thing to other waitresses. That's the whole point of having scantily clad young girls strut their stuff at a party like this.

But for some reason, seeing her being treated like one of those girls-which she is-makes my blood boil.

I clear my throat to get their attention. "Waitress," I call out. "Come here."

The jocks turn around to glare at me. One of them looks like he's about to fight me, but his friend pulls him back and says something in a low voice. He probably knows who I am. Getting on my bad side is not a good idea for anyone who does business in this city.

The two guys walk away, leaving me alone with the nurse from St. Peter's Hospital I met last week.

She's looking at me now, apprehension flashing in her green eyes, which look unnaturally intense tonight from the heavy make-up. She recognizes me, and she realizes she has just escaped the frying pan only to fall into the fire.

"I said come here. You work here, don't you? The customer is king. Haven't you heard that?" I could step closer to close the gap between us, but that wouldn't be any fun. She knows she has to do as I say, and I want to watch the fight die within her, see the moment when she gives up and follows my order.

She hesitates. She's lost her balance from having tried to back away from the two jocks, and it doesn't look as if she's used to the high heels either, or the lack of actual clothes.

Like the other girls, she's wearing a black bra, a pair of lacy panties, and black garters that hold up her sheer black stockings. Unlike the other girls, she looks uncomfortable in them.

She's out of her element, just like she was at the hospital when she had to obey me instead of the hospital rules. This means I've got her right where I want her.

"Did you hear me, or do I have to tell the host you can't do your job?" I give her a sharp stare, and she glowers at me in response, even though her full lips, which are painted red tonight, remain tightly zipped.

She regains her composure. She starts to walk closer, teetering on her shoes, which exaggerate the sway of her full hips.

She has cute, perky tits, but it's the way her slender waist flares out into those hips and ass that gets me. I could just imagine my fingers digging into her waist as I bent her over and pulled her back against me, impaling her on me again and again. My cock stirs in my pants.

I don't know what it is about her, but every little move she makes amuses me. Maybe it's just refreshing to see a girl not kissing my ass. She puts up a bit of a fight, which makes it more satisfying when her resolve crumbles, when she inevitably has to do my bidding.

She stops a couple of feet away from me and shoves the tray full of the usual party finger foods between us without a word.

"Aren't you going to ask if I want some canapés?" I trap her gaze and watch as the fire burns within.

"You already asked me to come here. You obviously want them," she says in a clipped tone. She's trying to stay polite, despite her anger.

"Maybe all I want is for you to come closer."

"I'm already close enough. Now, if there's nothing else, I have other guests to serve."

"I don't see anyone else around here." I look around to emphasize my point. This is a large mansion, and most of the guests are lounging by the swimming pool. This hallway is deserted. "And aren't you supposed to address me more politely?"

"If there's nothing else, I'd like to go where the other guests are, Sir," she repeats herself, adding the honorific at the end begrudgingly.

Interesting.

When faced with the choice between obeying me and losing her job, she chooses the option that makes her money, even if she has to sacrifice a little dignity doing so. This girl has a price, just like everybody else.

What makes her interesting is how much she seems to resent that, and how openly she displays that resentment. She's transparent.

I'd love to see her genuine reactions to my hands all over her, my fingers inside her. Fuck, I'd love to spread her legs and plunge balls deep inside her. I'd watch her face as I do, her lips parting in lust to let a breathy moan escape, her eyes begging for more even if she doesn't want to say it.

"Oh, but there is something else. I'm sure you'll want to hear this," I say.

She continues to look back into my eyes with defiance, not knowing I'm going to crush that disobedience out of her.

I'm not done with her. Far from it. She's wrong if she thinks she's going to walk away just like that