$300K Blackmail Lesson of My Bestie's Father - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
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The sound of carefree laughter and chatter drifted in from the pool area outside the mansion's grand hall, shattering the tense moment between us.
Ryan Royston—Vincent's son—had arrived with a group of classmates. My boyfriend was among them.
With my boyfriend just yards away, Vincent was demanding I pretend to be his girlfriend. My stomach twisted at the thought of being discovered. I opened my mouth to refuse again, but Vincent closed the distance between us, his cologne enveloping me.
"Listen," he murmured, his voice smooth as aged whiskey, "I've got some business associates inside, all with their plus-ones. Play along for an hour—your classmates won't even see you, and that $300,000 debt disappears. Fair deal, isn't it?"
His logic was maddeningly persuasive. Just one hour...
After a moment's hesitation, I gave a small nod.
Vincent's lips curved into a satisfied smirk before he suddenly pressed his powerful frame against me, pinning me to the wall. I gasped, squirming instinctively, but his solid muscles rendered my struggles useless.
"Relax, sweetheart," he purred, his breath warm against my ear. "Consider this a preview. My friends' companions are all young beauties—with your looks, you'll make me the envy of the room. Just remember to sell it."
There was something dangerously suggestive in his tone that made my pulse spike, but I pushed the thought aside. Getting out of that massive debt was miracle enough.
"Vincent... could you—please get up?" I managed, my voice barely above a whisper as his hard body kept me trapped, my cheeks burning.
He chuckled darkly. "Physical contact comes with the girlfriend package, Emily. You'll adjust. I'm already going easy on you since you're my son's classmate." With that, he finally stepped back, clearly pleased with himself.
As he pulled me to my feet, his gaze raked over me like a physical touch, sending an unfamiliar heat through my veins. Even standing apart, I could feel his eyes tracing every curve, the intensity of his stare leaving invisible brands on my skin. My entire body flushed pink under his appraisal.
Vincent's large hand settled possessively on my waist as he guided me forward. "You'll keep your word?" I blurted, needing the reassurance.
"Wouldn't dream of breaking it," he said smoothly. "Now, let's not keep my guests waiting."
The mansion was a labyrinth of opulence. Vincent led me through winding corridors until we reached a heavy oak door. When it swung open, the scene inside froze me in my tracks.
The "guests" were nothing like I'd imagined. Each middle-aged man had a barely-dressed young woman draped over him—skirts so short they might as well have been belts. One girl was feeding grapes to her companion, his lips closing around her fingers along with the fruit. Others sipped amber whiskey while being groped under their skimpy outfits.
Compared to the balding, paunchy men with their slicked-back hair and gold watches, Vincent looked like a rugged god—all hard muscle and dangerous charm. Yet the women clung to their companions like prized accessories, giggling as wandering hands disappeared beneath fabric. Some even rode their partners' laps, faces flushed with more than just alcohol.
The air was thick with a cloying, sweet scent that made my head swim. Every woman in the room wore the same glazed expression of intoxicated pleasure.
My blood ran cold. These weren't business associates—this was something far darker.
Ryan Royston—Vincent's son—had arrived with a group of classmates. My boyfriend was among them.
With my boyfriend just yards away, Vincent was demanding I pretend to be his girlfriend. My stomach twisted at the thought of being discovered. I opened my mouth to refuse again, but Vincent closed the distance between us, his cologne enveloping me.
"Listen," he murmured, his voice smooth as aged whiskey, "I've got some business associates inside, all with their plus-ones. Play along for an hour—your classmates won't even see you, and that $300,000 debt disappears. Fair deal, isn't it?"
His logic was maddeningly persuasive. Just one hour...
After a moment's hesitation, I gave a small nod.
Vincent's lips curved into a satisfied smirk before he suddenly pressed his powerful frame against me, pinning me to the wall. I gasped, squirming instinctively, but his solid muscles rendered my struggles useless.
"Relax, sweetheart," he purred, his breath warm against my ear. "Consider this a preview. My friends' companions are all young beauties—with your looks, you'll make me the envy of the room. Just remember to sell it."
There was something dangerously suggestive in his tone that made my pulse spike, but I pushed the thought aside. Getting out of that massive debt was miracle enough.
"Vincent... could you—please get up?" I managed, my voice barely above a whisper as his hard body kept me trapped, my cheeks burning.
He chuckled darkly. "Physical contact comes with the girlfriend package, Emily. You'll adjust. I'm already going easy on you since you're my son's classmate." With that, he finally stepped back, clearly pleased with himself.
As he pulled me to my feet, his gaze raked over me like a physical touch, sending an unfamiliar heat through my veins. Even standing apart, I could feel his eyes tracing every curve, the intensity of his stare leaving invisible brands on my skin. My entire body flushed pink under his appraisal.
Vincent's large hand settled possessively on my waist as he guided me forward. "You'll keep your word?" I blurted, needing the reassurance.
"Wouldn't dream of breaking it," he said smoothly. "Now, let's not keep my guests waiting."
The mansion was a labyrinth of opulence. Vincent led me through winding corridors until we reached a heavy oak door. When it swung open, the scene inside froze me in my tracks.
The "guests" were nothing like I'd imagined. Each middle-aged man had a barely-dressed young woman draped over him—skirts so short they might as well have been belts. One girl was feeding grapes to her companion, his lips closing around her fingers along with the fruit. Others sipped amber whiskey while being groped under their skimpy outfits.
Compared to the balding, paunchy men with their slicked-back hair and gold watches, Vincent looked like a rugged god—all hard muscle and dangerous charm. Yet the women clung to their companions like prized accessories, giggling as wandering hands disappeared beneath fabric. Some even rode their partners' laps, faces flushed with more than just alcohol.
The air was thick with a cloying, sweet scent that made my head swim. Every woman in the room wore the same glazed expression of intoxicated pleasure.
My blood ran cold. These weren't business associates—this was something far darker.
End of $300K Blackmail Lesson of My Bestie's Father Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to $300K Blackmail Lesson of My Bestie's Father book page.