OWNED BY THE BILLIONAIRE

DAMIEN'S POV

"Hey! There's a line here!" shouts a man somewhere behind me. He sounds angry, but I don't give a fuck.

The Chief of Medicine himself said we'd always get the priority here, so that guy can go to another hospital if he wants.

I guarantee, though, that there's no place in the world where everyone is treated equally. That's just a hippie pipe dream.

Hey, I don't make the rules. I just happen to be good at this game called life, and I'll admit there were also quite a few lucky rolls of the dice. So there are benefits to being an Anderson.

You can hardly blame a man for taking advantage of all the privileges he's been given, especially at a time like this.

A young nurse behind the laminated counter fixes her green eyes on me like she's ready to chew me out. "Sir, I'll have to ask you to go back to the end of the-"

"Listen," I say calmly, cutting her off. "Maybe you're new and you have no idea how things work around here, so I'm going to let that attitude slide. You're going to do exactly as I say or you're going to lose your job. Understand?"

She looks bewildered, her pretty green eyes big as saucers. No doubt her training hasn't prepared her for this.

To her credit, she shuts up and gives me a small nod. There's a hint of defiance in the way she clenches her jaw. She's indignant, but she doesn't want to get fired.

Smart girl.

Under normal circumstances, I'd crush every little sign of impudence in her. She looks exactly like the kind of girl I'd enjoy doing that to. But this is not the time.

"Lily," I say as I glance at the name tag on her chest. "Get someone who's in charge and tell them Charles Anderson needs immediate attention. Repeat the name for me so I know you understand me."

"Charles Anderson," she says with a pair of furrowed brows over her angry eyes. She's not happy about being treated like an imbecile, but I need to know she's going to relay the correct message.

My father needs immediate medical attention; who cares if her feelings get hurt?

"Good girl. Now go," I say. I'd love to watch her walk away. The baby-blue scrubs she's wearing don't cling to her body, but I can just make out some little indications of the tantalizing curves underneath. I'm sure I could get a better idea if I took a better look.

I have more important things to do, though. I turn around to see the automatic glass doors of the main entrance part to let Dad into the lobby of St. Mary Hospital.

Some guy from the office has managed to find a wheelchair for him. Dad is clutching his chest. He looks like he's in pain. His breaths are labored, his whole body covered in a layer of cold sweat.

Seeing him in that condition makes me want to shout at somebody to fix him right away, or at least give him something to get rid of the pain. The man seems weak; it just looks wrong.

"Mr. Anderson?" A voice from behind the counter calls me. A man's voice this time, alert and ready to jump into action.

When I turn around, I see him already taking big strides around the counter to approach me. Good. This is the kind of urgency I expect from one of the biggest recipients of our corporate charity program.

"My father needs help." I put one hand on the back of the man in scrubs and lead him toward the wheelchair. I have no idea who he is, but he knows who we are and that's all that matters.

He rushes toward Dad, a couple of younger men in scrubs following behind him. I watch from the sidelines as the men do what they do best.

This is the best damn hospital in San Francisco, and this is exactly why we're so generous toward them-for times like this.

I take deep breaths and follow the men down the hallway. Depressing fluorescent lighting and the smell of disinfectants fill my senses.

My muscles slacken a little, knowing Dad is in good hands, even as my heart continues beating faster than usual. I ball my hands into fists. If it weren't for them, my father wouldn't be in this condition.

Fucking cops.

LILY'S POV

"Are you okay?"

Jean 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 Jean 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 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 Jason.

"What happened? You look like you want to stab those potatoes to death." Jean drops her plastic tray on the table and pulls out the chair across from me, the metal legs dragging noisily against the tiled 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 Damien Anderson."

"Yeah." I'm not surprised Jean knows his name. Apparently, I'm the only person in the entire hospital who hadn't heard about that guy.

Damien Anderson, everybody says, his name always mentioned in full and in a voice full of admiration.

"Tell me all about it." Jean 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." Jean 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 Jean'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. Damien Anderson is rich, hot, and he practically holds Dr. James' balls in his hands. In what way is he not superior?"

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

"Oh, Lily. You sweet summer child. You can't even say balls." Jean 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 Jean's face widens.

"You know exactly what I mean."

"Oh, Lily!" Jean gasps and places a hand over her mouth.

"Honestly, that is nasty. Get your mind out of the gutter, young lady." I give Jean a flat stare. With impatience, I ask, "What's the connection between the Chief of Medicine and the asshole?"

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

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

"Right?"

I nod. "I feel bad for Dr. James 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," Jean 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."

Jean narrows her eyes at me. "What exactly did Damien Anderson ask you to do?"

I pause, hesitant. I know Jean'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." Jean breaks into another grin and adds, "Or your virginity."

"Hey! Not so loud." I look around to check that nobody's heard what Jean 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, Damien Anderson is an absolute beast in bed. He knows what he's doing, if you know what I mean." Jean 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 be with a guy like Damien Anderson." I roll my eyes.

"That ship has sailed, a long time ago."

"Ouch!" Jean winces and looks me in the eyes.

"Words hurt, Lily."

It's my turn to grin. I don't know when it happened, but talking to Jean has cheered me up after all.

I still hate Damien Anderson'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..."

LILY'S POV

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

"Err... Hello, are we just meeting?" I look up from Jason's homework, lean back on the headboard, and squint at Jean. "I always need money."

"Good."

"Good?" I frown. "Yeah. I mean, I have good news for you... But only if you still need money. And since you do, well, I have good news for you." Jean grins and beckons with her hand.

"Come outside."

I glance at Jason, 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 work my ass off so Jason 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 Jason'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 Jean on our second-hand couch. The seat is hard and sagging from years of use. There's no give when I plant my butt down on it.

Jean'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, Lily. I would never hurt another person. First, do no harm, remember?" The grin remains plastered on Jean'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, Jean 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 Jean'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 Jean knew on their road trip to Jalisco-for free, again.

Jean 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?" Jean 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." Jean 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 Jean's standards, this is crazy.

"Lingerie waitress," she repeats.

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

"It's not prostitution, Lily." Jean 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 $5,000 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. "$5,000? Are you serious?"

"Dead serious." Jean'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 pay check 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 Jean 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," Jean 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." Jean 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," Jean says.

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

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

"It's not precious, Jean. 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." Jean 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." Jean 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," Jean 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." Jean 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." Jean 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 Jason and myself safe and healthy.

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