THE RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE'S OBSESSION

Nadia

I know this sounds strange, but in my eighteen years, I have never given much thought to how my life will pan out. I'm a resident of the "city of sin," once known as Las Vegas. Furthermore, I have no idea what fun and excitement even imply, even if that's why the majority of visitors to this area come here.

Since my stepmother departed when I was twelve, I had to start assisting my dad with the money right away, thereby terminating my childhood. My stepmother was my only female role model until my real mom passed away when I was just two years old. While doing a range of odd chores hasn't been enjoyable, I take my obligation to assist at home seriously. My dad needs my help, and I don't want him to feel overworked after two consecutive ladies left him.

In an attempt to save money, I decided to work as a maid at the Pink Flamingo, a motel outside of town, after I graduated from high school. It was a long first day of work. Clients were jerks, and I could tell that my supervisor and coworkers didn't think much of me. Except Chloe, that is. Chloe was a huge assistance to me. The elderly woman is a longtime patron of the Pink Flamingo. She gave me tips on how to work fast and deal with fussy clients. I like her charming but realistic demeanour; she's now taken on the role of a surrogate mother in my eyes.

Chloe is a friend more than a mother figure, though. Someone who treats me like I exist and listens to me, which saddens me but is also real. I sometimes feel as though no one is able to see me. With a rag on my head and a broom and mop in my hands, I'm just an invisible girl.

I dropped the sheets from a double bed into my laundry basket last week after wiping the perspiration from my brow. The mindless labour is the finest thing about the Pink Flamingo, aside from Chloe, which is occasionally relieving. Once more, my thoughts turned to my father as I was making the bed.

Mark is not flawless. To be honest, he hasn't been the best father. And although I'm not privy to the murky facts of his marriage to my stepmother, she had to have lost tolerance since she had to leave. Dad has always struggled with gambling. He has always been greedy and self-centred. But he's mine. In the entire world, he is my sole family. Even after he lost everything in an awful deal that smelt to high heavens, I could never leave him. I could have warned him to avoid that one as well, but papa dear never pays attention, especially when it comes to his daughter.

Sadly, none of that matters at this point. I have to consider my future and make an effort to understand who I am. Even though the Pink Flamingo is a dilapidated motel, it's currently my greatest hope of stability and domestic assistance.

"Nadia, my love?"

I looked up at the sound of Chloe's gentle voice and saw her standing in the doorway. My cheeks warmed as a hot, frustrated tear streamed down my face, too strong to contain. Lifting her callused, rough fingers, Chloe wiped the tears from her eyes.

I blew out a sharp breath and brushed my brown curls away from my face. I put a little grin onto my face as I looked up at her.

I muttered, "I'm fine, I'm just tired of scrubbing these floors." In a technical sense, my life was quite close to reality. I was sick of mopping up after rowdy visitors who only wanted a room to trash and washing the floors. The amount of times I've had to get rid of trash that made my stomach turn over is beyond count. There's no denying that the Pink Flamingo is a dump, and nobody seems to care about what it would be like to have to clean it for a living.

With a moan, Chloe shifted onto her side to relieve strain on her injured hip and sat down next to me. After tumbling down the stairs two years prior, she shattered it. However, Danny, our manager, didn't seem to care and threatened to fire her if she didn't return to work as soon as possible following her operation. Chloe took a deep breath and let go of the cigarette she had just put in her mouth. I accepted the cigarette she reluctantly offered to me and took a deep drag.

After sitting in silence and breathing in the smoke, Chloe took hold of my hand and squeezed it.

"Dear Nadia, I know you have greater aspirations than this. All of us do. But you have an entire life ahead of you, which is the only thing that sets you apart from the rest of us," croaked Chloe's scratchy voice.

"I know; I have dreams." I exhaled. "But I don't think they're very good." My stepmother and I used to ride out from our little house to visit the showgirls when I was younger. I used to think that they were so glamorous and that I should be like them-beautiful, curvaceous, and covered in diamonds. Now that I'm eighteen, I might have reached the bustier portion of my body, but beauty and diamonds are nonexistent. With my wildly curled hair, mud-brown eyes, and dirty work clothes, I resemble a mouse more than anything else. That much is certain: no one would ever mistake it for a showgirl. Too bad about that dream.

Chloe swung her palm in the air and pivoted to confront me.

"Everyone, my love, has dreams. How about yours? Educating? being a business owner yourself? Raising her slender, bleach-blonde brows, Chloe inquired. I sadly laughed and turned to face my hands. The blue cleaning solution we used had left stains on them, and the nails were fractured and uneven. I shot a forlorn smile towards the elderly woman.

"I don't know what my own business would be, but it sounds amazing," I remarked. "So no," I've been considering attending college. I simply don't know how I would pay for it or what I would do," I said, lowering my gaze to avoid catching Chloe's attention. These kids weren't just randomly drawn to college. It was that easy: either their parents paid or they didn't go at all. My parents, for instance, never brought up college. Mark really wouldn't have given a damn if I hadn't finished high school.

However, there was something more that I yearned for deep down inside. Life could not be limited to this.

Chloe sat silent for a moment, processing what I had just told her. She gave me a big sigh and rubbed my palm.

You are aware that life at college is difficult here. However, nothing should stop you from doing it if that's what you want to do! Chloe shouted. I grimaced once more.

"I simply desire something more superior than this," I said, surveying the dilapidated Pink Flamingo. The wall paper was peeling in the corners and looked to be at least thirty years old. The carpet was damaged and smelled strangely like must, and there were fractures and water stains all over the ceiling.

But dreams are luxury items, and I couldn't afford them at the moment. I got to my feet deliberately, brushed off my jeans, and reached out to pick Chloe up. She put a weighty arm over my shoulder and reassuringly tucked a straggling curl behind my ear.

If all you want to do is go, that's okay, sweetie. I have lived here my entire life and have known nothing except this. But you don't have to," Chloe persuaded me. As she said, her clouded blue eyes grew wide. Her only motivation for staying at the Pink Flamingo was her son Lewis's meth addiction. She made several attempts to monitor him closely and even attempted to get him into treatment, but to no avail. Since then, she has remained in this place, and I was resolved not to become like her.

I whispered, "I'm sure I'll find something." I got back on my knees and scrubbed away.

Suppose you were a paramedic? They pay really well, and I know they have training! Chloe cooed. Scrubbing the floor, I wrinkled my nose.

"I feel too nauseous near blood," I muttered. "It gives me the flu." Chloe patted my arm gently.

"How about visiting the local community college to inquire about financial assistance?" Chloe recommended. "I've heard that some of those initiatives can be quite giving." I wiped perspiration off my brow and nodded.

"Okay, I'll investigate that," I answered, attempting to conceal my deepening melancholy. Although my buddy was sincerely attempting to assist, she would never be able to comprehend. With my dad being dependent on me and me having no money, I found myself in a difficult situation. While financial aid was nice, it wasn't going to make my troubles go away.

Chloe patted my hand and said, "Well, whatever you choose, I know the universe will bring you just what you need." It's due to your karma.

I muttered, "I hope so," without looking up.

The elderly woman smiled at me one final time and went back to her own work. I sat there for a minute, imagining what life might be like after my time at the Pink Flamingo.

"What do you think you're doing, Miss Nadia?" My head snapped up, and I winced to find our manager Danny, his pot belly protruding, looming over me.

"Washing floors?" Still dubious of me, I answered. Danny placed his hands on his little hips and rolled his eyes.

He began in a mocking manner, "I think I can see that." However, I fail to see why you haven't gone to the bathroom yet. Those floors are filthy, and guests come and go from here. I quickly stood up and grabbed the sponge that was on the ground.

"Danny, I'll take care of it immediately," I blurted out. Although Danny wasn't all that scary, I had long since discovered it was best to avoid him because of his violent anger.

"Miss Nadia, you better. After graduating from high school, do you intend to work here? Did Danny ask?

"I believe I could." I gave a low, timid response.

Danny shot out, "Then you better stop lollygagging." With a disgusted moan, he lumbered off, whispering to himself.

I let out a deep breath, grabbed my bucket of muddy water, and carried it over to the restroom. I got down on my hands and knees and cleaned the filthy flooring mercilessly. They were soiled from muddy shoes and who knows what else, and there was no way to get rid of the stains. Still, I scrubbed away.

My entire body hurt by the time the floors began to appear cleaner. I slumped back on my heels after slowly getting to my feet. For a while now, the Pink Flamingo has been my only source of income, yet I couldn't help but wish for a life outside of it. At these moments, memories of my previous travels with my stepmother would suddenly come back to me. I closed my eyes and saw dancers from a burlesque company sparkling with jewels. Unlike me, who is limited to cleaning, washing, and interacting with Danny, they appeared to be so free.

I'd never make a good showgirl. Rich guys would never pay to see me dancing around with a feather fan because of my round, curvaceous shape. However, a girl may still dream, right?

I let out a sigh and rested against the discoloured walls. My hair was stuck to my scalp from sweat, and my legs hurt like crazy. I didn't want to be stuck in this place with no other options in life, like Chloe was. However, I couldn't get rid of a tiny hope that was burning brightly in the back of my mind despite all of my doubts and perplexity.

I forced a smile, scooped up my soiled pail, and moved in the direction of the motel's entrance. I'd manage to get out. The issue was that I wasn't certain.

Stefan

Stan held up a tumbler of champagne and remarked, "Hopefully, with these new renovations, those fat cats from New York will be interested in becoming a part of The Grand." He had already had several glasses, so his hand was shaking, and he took a big gulp to empty the flute.

"To The Grand," I growled. I sipped it slowly and reclined in my chair. Nothing lifted my spirits quite like having lunch with one of my most reliable colleagues, Stan Stefanander. It didn't matter that we had been sipping champagne for so long that I was certain the restaurant would run out soon.

Since my hotel, The Grand, was my pride and pleasure. It has given me everything I could possibly want in this life-fame, money, and everything else. However, on certain days, I felt as though something was lacking.

Stan gave me a sharp push on the arm and burped loudly. "Hey, what's up with you? You've been acting so depressed lately, Stan complained. He appeared to have not slept in days, and he had a huge cowlick on his head. I withdrew the champagne bottle from him and sighed.

I'm alright. Conversely, you must give the drink a break. What is the duration of your sobriety? I squeezed. Stan and I had a long history together-all the way back to our undergraduate days, when we used to get wild after finals. However, it appeared that Stan had not progressed above that point.

Why are you concerned? At 45 years old, I am a multimillionaire. I'm free to do anything I want! Stan declared aloud. I gave him a shoulder pat while laughing.

"Whatever you say, my friend." Stan took hold of my forearm as I attempted to stand up.

"Man, seriously though," Stan uttered in a hushed voice. "Are you doing okay? I am aware that you and Donna parted ways a few months ago. The atmosphere grew chilly as recollections filled my head. I had been married to Donna for eleven years when I discovered she was having an affair with Tony McCarthy, my former supervisor. He was an elderly, disreputable lawyer with equally old money. More than the hotel was what Donna always claimed she desired. The idea that she had finally found what she was looking for in that elderly scoundrel was almost ludicrous.

"At the moment, my attention is on the hotel. Donna no longer exists. Stan didn't need to know that it was a lie, though. Nobody did.

Alright. But since then, have you at least fucked anyone? Randolph, you're a working man. Stan stammered, raising his voice by an octave as he spoke. "You've got needs." As I pulled on my jacket, I rolled my eyes.

I swore, "It's none of your fucking business." I reached for my wallet and jammed it into my pocket. "And nobody addresses me as Randolph. As you are aware.

Stan scowled at the screen. "Anything," he uttered. "You must find a partner. Similar to yesterday.

I walked out of the restaurant, ignoring him.

"Friend, keep your chin up! Something can appear out of nowhere! I caught Stan yelling. I sighed, ignored him, and shook my head as I climbed into the back of my limousine.

It was a quick ride back to The Grand. The more the wheels turned, the less I was irritated at Stan. Even though he occasionally went overboard, I could never stay angry with him for very long because we were such close friends. I slid my sunglasses up onto the bridge of my nose as the limo pulled up in front of the hotel.

After getting out of the limousine, I inhaled deeply and bided my time till the afterglow of champagne subsided. The Grand was one of the most opulent hotels in Las Vegas, thus a lot of travellers and sophisticated housewives frequented it. I had nothing when I first started in this industry. Nope. However, I made my way up gradually, and obtaining The Grand has been the highlight of my professional journey thus far. Naturally, it takes up all of my time and energy; after the first year of hotel ownership, my life spiralled out of control and required constant attention to detail.

However, I live for my life. Being the owner of such a house meant having power and chaos, which I liked. My focus remained on business, precisely where it should have remained. And it was the same today. Terry, the general manager of the hotel, and my assistant, Alicia, greeted me as soon as I entered.

"Mr. Stefan, Stan called you twice today and asked that you give him a call back."

"Okay."

"Then, Michael Wang gave me a call regarding the fourth-floor bar renovations; he wants to move forward with starting that next week."

Alright.

Terry raced over, his wide face dripping with perspiration.

"Mr. Stefan, please. There are two guests who are persistently attempting to check in with expired cards."

"Oh, and," Alicia interrupted. The dry cleaners informed me that your Givenchy suit was prepared for pickup over the phone.

I extended my hand to sever their connection. Terry only appears nervous, while Alicia becomes quiet and flushes.

I snarled, "I just got in, for fuck's sake." "Give me one damn minute!"

"I apologise, Mr. Stefan. I did not-"

"Enough," I angrily yelled. "And why is the valet parking that disgusting van outside?"

How come? Jennifer scowled.

I angrily remarked, "It's your job to pay attention to these kinds of things while I'm gone." "Why is that van in this place?"

"I'm shocked, but I've never seen a van like that pull up here," Alicia said. Terry moved from one foot to the other tensely.

"Is it time to call security?" Terry enquired.

Ignoring him, I moved to look at the van's doors. When the driver unlocked the driver's side door, it screamed, and I looked on in disgust as a filthy-looking man with a receding hairline got out. He wore a rumpled white t-shirt under a brown jacket that seemed to be a size too small, and he had a massive pot belly. His face was perspiring from the heat in Nevada, and his arms were short, hanging just over his hips.

I narrowed my eyes as a heated feeling of contempt and rage passed over me. How dare this small, repulsive, ugly man enter The Grand's exquisite beauty? I saw the shocked looks on the other guests' faces. He darted to the side of the hotel and took a frayed plastic bag out of his jacket pocket while I watched.

I snarled, "That fucker thinks he can steal from me." "No way, no how!" I turned to face Terry and Alicia and folded my arms across my large chest.

I gave my workers the instruction, "Get back to work; I'll take care of this." As I walked out of the hotel, they both nervously retreated. With haste, I rolled up my sleeves and made my way to the side of the structure. He was burrowing like a street rat in the dumpsters.

"Do you really think you're doing this?" I screamed. The man halted, raised his head, and rolled his eyes.

"Mr. Fancy, what do you want?"

I snarled, "Get out of that dumpster, now." My hands clenched into fists. "Or you will come to regret the day you came to take something from me."

He gave a blink. From yourself?

"This is my hotel," I growled. "I also don't put up with thieves."

"It's worthless," the man declared. He shrugged, and that one small gesture turned my ire into actual fury. "Anyway, what were you going to do with it?"

"Leave," I yelled.

The man whistled and smacked his lips against his teeth. "There are many hidden gems in the dumpster that bring in a nice sum of money for Mark Butler." He leaped into the bin and extracted an ancient, damaged lamp.

"Like this gorgeous thing right now! I could get up to $175 for it, or even $175 if I claimed it belonged to a wealthy jerk like you. He gave me a wink before returning to his dumpster diggery.

"I won't tell you once again. I yelled, "Get the fuck away from my dumpsters and my hotel." "I'm not a charity person."

With a sarcastic sigh, Mark leaped out of the garbage, carrying his plastic bag on his shoulder.

I agree, whatever. Mark murmured, "There's not much in there anyway. I firmly took hold of his arm and placed my foot in front of his plump legs. He abruptly stopped and gave me a carefree glance. "What?" I'm going," he muttered under his breath. "Remove your hands from me!"

"You understand that I'm taking you to that piece of shit van and you're not allowed to come back to this hotel again?"

Mark began to object, but I grabbed him by the arm harder and pulled him back to his van. Just as we got closer to the van, Mark squirmed out of my hold. My mouth fell when I saw the back door open, just before I could grab him again.

The most beautiful girl I had ever seen began to emerge from the van's rear. She was on her hands and knees, her brown curls falling lovingly over her glossy head. She had a little pout on her face and a physique full of curves and lusciousness. My cock twitched just by gazing at her. As Mark approached her, I forced myself to swallow. He knew her, but how? Was she one of his victims?

I was filled with poisonous hatred as I observed Mark's casual demeanour. "You are such a prick. You believed that you could simply stroll in and approach women? I took Mark by the collar and gave him a hard shove against the automobile. I was going to give him a hard look when the stunning girl leaped in front of me and let out a cry of protest. My cock tensed as her breasts lightly touched my body.

Please don't harm my father! "Don't harm him!" the girl cried out. Her lower lip was trembling nervously, and her brown eyes were pleading with me. My mouth sprang open in shock. How could this nasty, dirty man's kid be such a stunning girl?

"Nadia, it's alright," Mark sighed. "Mr. Fancy Pants is not interested in us living off of his priceless dumpsters,"

Before letting Mark go, I gave him one last nudge against the side of the van.

Nadia calmly said, "It's okay," while adjusting her dad's collar.

Mark withdrew his hand from hers. "Mister Rich Boy, I can't help but think that this is a nice place you have here," Mark pondered.

It's Stefan Randolph. And certainly, I hissed, defending The Grand from filth like you because it is my pride and delight.

"Oh, naturally! I suppose Nadia and I are accustomed to living in motels.

"Innkeeper life" I swore as I said it again.

Yes, Nadia is employed by one of them. What's its name, by the way? Mark's voice became halting.

Nadia gently responded, twirling her curls around her finger, "The Pink Flamingo." She gave me a hesitant glance before averting her gaze. Her timid demeanour was making me feel attracted to her, and I had to fight the need to seize her and plant a passionate kiss on the side of the van.

"Explain the Pink Flamingo, please." My eyes went narrower. For the past three years, I had been working to have that landfill shut down, and as of last week, with the help of the municipal council meeting, it appeared like my wish would finally be granted.

Nadia answered, "The Pink Flamingo, indeed." "It's the only job I have that pays enough."

Mark sneered, "Too bad she's only the maid." "That's all she could find; she just graduated from high school." With a heated blush, Nadia moved away from Mark.

I grimaced. Although I knew that men like Mark were evil, I couldn't help but be attracted to his daughter.

Alright, Mark. I responded breezily, "I guess I could let you look into my dumpster, as long as you just look through between one and five in the morning. I wanted to see Nadia again, even though I wasn't sure if she had developed the habit of going to "work" with her father.

Mark gave me a wink as he and Nadia returned to the dilapidated van. Nadia gave me another look and shut the door. As I watched them retreat, I noticed that my protruding erection had tented my pants. That girl was insanely beautiful, and I couldn't believe she was that disgusting man's daughter. I had to find a way to see her once more. She was a maid, and I was a hotel magnate, after all. It was flawless. I had another appointment with her. The other way around.

Stefan

I saw Mark with his beautiful kid the following morning, and I couldn't get her out of my brain. She seemed so youthful and innocent. How on earth could a man like Mark have a daughter who is such a hottie?

I had never seen a hotter body than hers. My mouth was watering just looking at her gorgeous tits and her voluptuous behind. Just thinking about her was making me feel hard. I knew she would make a wonderful woman. Nadia, after all, had it all-young, attractive, with huge brown eyes and an unrelenting ass.

Getting her out of my brain required an enormous amount of work. I had to concentrate on the documents that would formally put an end to the Pink Flamingo. I wanted to get Nadia a new job, even though it was absurd. Since I hadn't really spoken to her, I wasn't sure why I should have been concerned. Would she be interested in a job at The Grand? I was dreaming when Lisa, my secretary, buzzed me.

I sighed in frustration as I answered the call with reluctance. I detested chatting on the phone, and it was hardly eight in the morning. Stan and I had been out drinking till the early hours of the morning, so I also had the hangover of a lifetime. Although I pretended to be doing him a favour, I had actually been relieved to have Nadia as a diversion. We would strike at least half a dozen bars.

As I closed my eyes, my thoughts turned to the night before and I wished I was somewhere other than at work.

Sure! We'll shoot three more times. Stan let out an excited shout. Laughing, I took the whiskey shot and knocked it back without even flinching.

"I must go," I growled. "I have work tomorrow."

"Avoid being a pussy! You must not enter!" Stan put his arm around my neck and drew me in, acting as though we were fraternity brothers intoxicated.

Jesus, dude! Leave now! Stan reached for another shot, but I yanked his arm away and threw it back. Stan winced but shook his head, returning to his foolish smile.

Yes, indeed. What's agitating you so much? Stan queried.

I exhaled. "Today, I saw the cutest girl." That scumbag who was rooting around in my dumpster was her father. Do you recall the one I mentioned earlier?

Jon puts on a show. "Oh my god. Once more, what was her age? My friend grinned and took a swig from a lime.

Nineteen? I get it. She just received her high school diploma.

"Oh my god! That's youthful, man. As in, quite young."

At that point, it was my time to smile, though it was more of a dejected grimace. I know, fuck off. These days, they appear to be getting younger and younger. I shrugged and let out a sigh. She's a child, though, and I can't really offer anything to a child. For heaven's sake, I might be her father; she wouldn't want some old man."

"Nope, everything's fine," Stan bellowed as he took another shot.

"It is irrelevant. In any case, I won't be seeing her again.

"Did you not tell me that her dad wants to dig in the dumpster at The Grand once more?"

With a nod. Stan smiled at me and shrugged.

That's your chance, then! Track down that old bastard and make a bargain. Retrieve his daughter from the trash can. Whatever works, guy, even though it sounds corny. You won't get another chance if you don't."

I was torn with the fact that I knew Stan was correct. What, getting a gorgeous, naive girl in return for dumpster diving? Would any man in his right mind consent to that? However, we were discussing Mark Butler, after all. For two cents, that person would sell his soul to the devil.

I was startled out of my trance when my phone buzzed once more, winking as I grabbed for the receiver.

"What?" I complained. I sipped from my steaming hot coffee, hoping it would give me a magical energy boost.

"Hello, Mr. Stefan, this is, uh, Mark Butler," declared Lisa. Alright, my love, my love. Who was the person who happened to be at the door? Perhaps he had Nadia with him.

"What is his desire?" I growled.

Lisa said rather softly. "I'm not really sure. Would it be okay if I called security?

I exhaled. Mark had to have a good reason for being here. Most likely the dumpster business once more.

"Take him in."

Lisa hung up, muttering, "Um, sure boss."

I scowled as I carelessly combed through my brown hair. What brought Mark here? Was he attempting to extract a bribe from me? Did he want to tell me about anything he found in the trash that was worth something? He knocked on the door, and I squeezed my lips firmly together, narrowing my eyes.

It was not a long wait for me. The door opened in a few seconds, and Mark walked right in. He appeared considerably worse than he had under my office's fluorescent lights. His face was marred by adult acne and scars, and his hair was oily.

"Mr. Stefan's Man!" Mark exclaimed with joy, as though we were the closest of friends. He stood in the large entryway and held out his arms.

"Mr. Butler, take a seat."

With a cackle, Mark limped into my office. He headed towards the seats in front of my desk, slamming the door behind him.

With a toothy grin, Mark said, "Nice setup," surveying the opulent area with its solid oak desk and unhindered view of the Strip below. When he grinned, I noticed that the man had several decayed teeth in the rear in addition to three gold teeth. As a gust of his body odour drifted across my desk, I curled my lip in disgust.

"What has brought you here?" I was able to do so politely.

Is it genuine silver? Mark pointed to the glistening vase behind me and said.

"Yes," I answered, 'It was a gift. It is in Italian. very costly and uncommon.

Italy? You're an Italian man, then? WINK Mark.

"Is it important?" I tried to remain patient as I squinted my eyes and inhaled deeply. "Mr. Butler, why are you here?"

He disregarded my question entirely. Fascinating. Although she wasn't Italian, my great aunt was from Italy. Mark folded his hands across his protruding abdomen and reclined in the chair.

I let out a sharp breath and gave him a grumpy glare.

"Mark, what do you want?

With a snort, Mark surveyed my workplace.

"You have a pleasant workspace, Randolph Stefan. Mark leaned forward and spoke softly. "You also got a really nice hotel, and men like you have got nice, big money." "But as for me, I don't have much."

"Yes, all right, and?" With every passing second, my irritation level increased.

"Well, I understand your interests," Mark remarked with a cheeky smile.

"Oh, truly?" I leaned forward and asked. And what kind of thing is that?

Mark ducked once more. Would it be okay if I took a sip of that coffee? Mark gestured toward my coffee machine and asked.

I nodded ever so slightly, my jaw clenched, without answering.

"Good!" Rising to his feet, Mark poured himself a cup of coffee, turned, and took a slow sip.

"Assured?" I asked sarcastically.

"Oh, yeah." Mark gave a quick lip-smack and resumed his seat. You know what I like, again. I'm aware of your desires. Is that not my daughter? You want a piece of Nadia after seeing her yesterday, don't you?

I almost choked on it. How was that known to him? Normally, I'm as smooth as butter. Even in the worst of situations, nobody can know what I'm thinking.

How come? My eyes went narrower. "Avoid being ridiculous."

"I noticed how you were glancing at her. If I claimed she wasn't a gorgeous piece of ass, I would be lying. Nice figure. Beautiful face. As he took another sip of his coffee, Mark acknowledged, "She gets it from her mother."

I gave a headshake. I said in a harsh voice, "I wanted to make sure she wasn't stealing anything." "It's true. as her elderly man." I could feel my heart pounding and my hands starting to get hot, but there was no way Mark could see that.

"Whoa, what a horrible liar you are!" Mark sputtered. With a loud belch, he drained the last of his coffee and set the mug down.

"Mr. Butler, could you just get right to the point? From me, what do you want?

The senior citizen grinned. It's simple. You want what I have, and I want what you have. "So why not engage in a modest exchange?"

"What in the world are you discussing?" I growled. Now my finger was on the security button. This guy was a real douche, not because I was terrified. Evidently, being an asshole doesn't require wealth. Mark Butler might be himself and try Jesus' tolerance.

He seemed to read my mind as he grinned. "Rich boy, I want some nice money." And I'll give you Nadia in exchange.

My jaw dropped open. Was this repulsive old man genuinely attempting to sell his daughter? I was disgusted and immediately regretted it. However, for fun, I chose to comply.

"You desire money in return for your lovely daughter? Which kind of a man are you? I raised my eyebrows and asked icily.

Mark gave a shrug. "What else is there? Just a man trying to make a buck?"

I nodded, as though I was genuinely thinking about his offer. Now let's talk in hypothetical terms. If I agreed to this brief trade, how much would you want?

After pausing briefly, Mark began to pick at his teeth. It took him some time to respond.

"Five hundred dollars should be enough. Yes, it seems correct.

I chuckled. Just 500 people? Would you be willing to sell your daughter to me for just $500? To me, that sum seemed insignificant. But my cock was increasing along with my disgust. To put it mildly, it was exciting to consider having Nadia, seeing her every day, and having her at my disposal. With a girl like that around all the time, life could be quite nice.

Her father sighed. Mark answered, "Yeah, for however long you want her." "I'll take her back after I've settled everything." I took a seat back in my chair and considered his offer.

"Are you really serious?"

Mark whistled and nodded. "As grave as it gets," he declared. He gave me a wink, like we were plotting together. "It's not like you're doing anything illegal, and she's eighteen."

"That's right," I said glumly, without even trying to mention that the entire transaction was probably unlawful.

"So?" Mark sat up straight. His hands were rubbing together in anticipation of the money, and his eyes were beaming. I was unsure. I was considering purchasing Mark's kid, even though I knew it was wrong because I had accused him of being a human trafficker. How incredibly bizarre and ironic at the same time. But Nadia was more of a want to me than any woman had ever been. Even after only five minutes of meeting her, I could still picture her gorgeous curves. Furthermore, wasn't dating in general similar to purchasing a woman? Purchase her supper and drinks.and perhaps be fortunate in return? Yes, it's transactional, but that's just the nature of the world.

Perhaps this was not as horrible as it seemed. Perhaps it was just removing the "dating" portion in the midst.

I said in a silky voice, "I'll give you five thousand dollars." And Nadia for a month is what I want. She returns to you after that, and everything will seem to have happened at that point. Said I. Mark would never have realised that my heart was thumping like a drum because of the steady, calm tone in which I spoke.

Mark gave a round of applause before bolting from the chair.

Mr. Stefan, oh boy! That is a really big thing! Mark gave me a firm handshake. I gave a stiff smile.

I said, "Calm down." "This agreement is only between us. Nobody else discovers it. Do you have that? Mark dropped back into the leather seat, glanced over his shoulder, and nodded.

Oh, indeed. Of course. With a gesture of pulling a zipper across his mouth, he declared, "My lips are sealed."

Like a relaxed male animal, I reclined in my chair.

"When will you bring Nadia to me then?"

Mark flashed me a sly smile that revealed his golden teeth. "As soon as I receive the money," he stated, his face lighting up with a sly smile. When did you consider? Money is what keeps the world turning.

I paused to think, my fingers curled under my chin. This can be a grave error.

Alternatively, it might be the most exciting thing I've ever done.

I crossed my office without saying anything to Mark and unlocked the safe I kept hidden beneath a replica of a Doré artwork. I closed the safe and went back to my desk after taking $5,000 out of it.

I continued, smoothly, "You're to bring Nadia to me tomorrow," as I ran my fingers over the crisp banknotes. "Are you getting this?"

Mark was drooling almost from the sight of all the green that I was holding. "Oh, yeah," he blurted out. "We struck a deal." He extended his hand. After a little pause, I took hold of his hand and abruptly shook it.

This way. And in the next two seconds, Mark grabbed the money from me and grinned avariciously.

Mark smirked and added, "Nice doing business with you, Mr. Rich Guy." After placing the money in a small bag, he turned around and left my office, closing the door behind him.

I let out a breath and returned to my chair. What had I gotten myself into just now? The deal was exciting and nerve-wracking to think about. Though Nadia was a dream, how absurd is that? Had I truly just purchased her? I turned to face the Pink Flamingo papers that were sitting on my desk once more. Nadia would no longer require the Pink Flamingo because she would be with me. Without a doubt, that location was toast. I smiled and sipped my coffee once more. This was going to become interesting.