7. Hailee
Chapter seven
Hailee
M y stilettos are exquisite yet excruciating, like a beautiful torture. But as my mother always said, “Beauty is pain, suck it up.” I sway gently, seeking relief for my throbbing feet. Thank goodness for the support of this wall against my back. Mark has granted me a short reprieve from socializing, so I’ve retreated to a quiet corner where I can indulge in some people-watching while nibbling on canapés. I glance at the measly bite-sized food in my napkin and sigh. I would kill for a slice of pizza right about now. Popping the last one in my mouth, I scrunch up the napkin in my hand.
“Here, let me take that for you.”
Caught off guard with a mouth full of food, I inhale sharply when I see it’s him. A crumb slips down the wrong pipe and I begin to choke, gasping loudly for air as panic sets in. My attempts to dislodge the crumb result in a cacophony of hacking and wheezing, causing quite the scene. To my deep embarrassment, I can’t stop the dry heaves as I scramble to suck in air into my burning lungs. He steps forward, patting me firmly on the back and offering a glass of water that seemingly materializes out of thin air. I take a sip and the fire raging in my throat subsides. Though concern flickers in his eyes, I detect a hint of amusement, adding to my mortification.
“Are you okay? Lucky you don’t sound like that when you’re choking on my cock,” he deadpans.
I burst out laughing, still coughing, the heat rising to my cheeks. Blushing isn’t something I do often, if ever. But this? This takes the cake. I’m beyond horrified he almost saw me throw up a canapé.
I wipe at the tears in my eyes and steady my breath before croaking out, “What are you doing here?” My voice sounds raspy, so I take another mouthful of water. Finally, I have the chance to take in his appearance. My goodness, this man is sin personified in his tailored tuxedo. I would totally bend over and give him a freebie right here, right now. If I were wearing panties, they would be ruined.
He smirks. “Twice in twenty-four hours, lucky me.” He gently peels open my palm and removes the scrunched napkin, replacing it with a sleek black card. My brows knit together. “I should be asking what brings you to this event. It’s not your typical scene. But then again, high society thrives on gossip.”
I start to speak but falter, unsure of how to respond.
“I have a proposition for you. One that you’ll definitely want to hear.” His voice is a delicious rumble, and I feel it all over my body. He closes my fingers around the black card in my palm.
“What—”
“Hailee, are you alright? We heard you from the other side of the ballroom.”
I wince as my stepfather approaches, another man trailing behind him.
“I’m fine, thank you, Mark.” I wave him off, trying to downplay the embarrassing gaffe. Then my stepfather notices I’m not alone and his face transforms; this must be the ruthlessness everyone talks about, because his game face is downright scary.
“Dameon.” Mark spits out the name with disdain, but Dameon is unfazed. He just smiles, as if he’s enjoying some inside joke, his gorgeous dimples on display.
“Hello, Mark. Good to see you again. I was just catching up with an old friend.” Dameon flashes that dazzling smile my way.
I raise my eyebrows. My stepfather and his companion know we’re not old friends, that we don’t move in the same circles. Dameon’s not-so-subtle implication that we’ve fucked is unmistakable. To what purpose, who knows? But he’s certainly succeeding in getting under my stepfather’s skin. I can almost see the steam coming out of his ears.
Dameon turns to me. “It was lovely seeing you again, Hailee.” Taking my hand, which is still clutching his card, he presses his lips gently to the back of it. Unlike slimy Douglas. With a subtle wink, he releases my hand, and without another word or glance at Mark or his companion, he leaves. My eyes track him through the crowd until he disappears beyond the exit.
“Hailee,” my stepfather snaps, pulling me out of my trance.
“Excuse me?”
“I would like to introduce you to Jacob,” he says pointedly, taking the water glass from my hand.
“Oh, sorry about that. Hello, Jacob, lovely to meet you.” I plaster on an apologetic smile. He shakes my hand, flashing a grin with perfect, straight white teeth. He’s young and attractive, but he doesn’t come close to the god that just left us.
“Ignore Dameon, he has that choking effect on a lot of women,” Jacob jokes. “They’d do anything to get away from him.”
I laugh politely at his quip, but it’s not funny. At all.
Jacob launches into a spiel about his father’s oil company and his recent takeover, mentioning his desire to settle down. It’s obvious he’s a total playboy, or as I prefer to call it, fuck boy. I nod along, feigning interest, but my burning curiosity about the card in my hand is hard to ignore. If only Jacob would piss off.
After what feels like an eternity, he moves on, promising to see me again soon. The moment he’s gone, I rush to the bathroom as fast as I can without actually running and lock the door behind me. I inspect the card, running my finger over its glossy black finish and embossed silver lettering that reads: Dameon Hayward, CEO, Hayes it’s not even nine in the morning. I roll my eyes and flick away the notification once more. He can wait.
The more I think about last night and the men my stepfather introduced me to, the angrier I become. The thought of being tethered to Do Not Resuscitate Douglas or Fuck Boy Jacob for a decade is infuriating. It’s a steep price to pay for one lousy phone call to the transplant board. Fuck him. And fuck my mother for allowing it. Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if this was all her idea.
I drop my phone onto the mattress with a heavy sigh. The shiny black business card on the nightstand catches my eye, and I feel a surge of curiosity. I know next to nothing about Dameon Hayward. Yet, I know every inch of his decadent body, the sound he emits when aroused, the way he shuts his eyes in pleasure when he comes, and the earthy taste of his release on my tongue. Is that enough to trust him? Hell, no. But before I entangle myself with a stranger for a decade, I’m intrigued to hear what he has to say. I snatch up the card, type his number into my phone and send him a text.
Me
I’m happy to report I survived the attack of the canapé.
Dameon
Good to hear. Would hate for anything to mar that beautiful throat of yours, except, perhaps, for my cock.
I giggle at his swift reply. That dirty bastard. But I love it. I could continue this banter all day, but unfortunately, I have a Machiavellian stepfather breathing down my neck.
Me
So, Mr. Hayward. What’s your proposition?
Dameon
I have an offer for you. One you’ll find hard to refuse. And no, not in a “dead horse head in your bed” kind of way. Meet me for brunch in an hour at Lafayette.
I smile at his Godfather reference. It’s my all-time favorite movie—not that he would know that. But nevertheless, point one to Mr. Hayward. I “like” his message and jump into the shower.
An hour later, as I step out of the rideshare on to Lafayette Street, the enticing aroma of butter and pastries wafts through the air, making my mouth water. The NoHo brasserie is buzzing, but it’s not overwhelmingly noisy, just right for a conversation. Spotting Dameon near the back of the café, I make my way toward him. The thought of indulging in Lafayette’s lemon ricotta pancakes makes my stomach growl.
When Dameon catches sight of me, he devours my outfit from head to toe with an appreciative gaze. I’ve opted for a floral summer dress, paired with ballet flats, and left my hair loose, still drying at the ends after my shower. My makeup is non-existent—I wanted to keep my face clean and fresh. After all, this man has seen me naked more times than I can count, in all sorts of unflattering positions. Trying to impress him with contouring and styled hair seems unnecessary at this point.
Dameon is dressed casually in slouchy faded jeans that probably cost more than my entire outfit, a simple white T-shirt and sneakers. He looks so normal , not like a multi-billionaire media tycoon. During the ride to Lafayette’s, I did a quick search on him and found numerous articles about Hayes & Hayward Media, including one particularly intriguing piece about a failed hostile takeover attempt by my stepfather’s company a few years ago. That explains their tense interaction last night.
“Hello, Mr. Hayward.” A genuine smile stretches across my lips.
“Hello, Ms. Mann.” He dips his head in greeting, and those dimples make an appearance. You’d think dimples would give him a boyish charm, but no. He’s all man, and those dimples are sexy as hell. He gestures to the seat across from him.
“Thank you,” I respond, pulling out the chair. “Three times in forty-eight hours, we’re going for a new record.” I wink.
“Indeed, we are. You look gorgeous, by the way, even better than last night. Although I must say, I prefer you naked.”
“Ah, I would have to agree with you there.” His striking eyes heat at my admission.
The waiter interrupts our conversation to take our order. Dameon briskly orders for both of us: lemon ricotta pancakes for me and the brisket burger for him, along with a selection of pastries to share. Point two to Mr. Hayward. I’m not fond of men ordering for me—not just because I find it chauvinistic, but because they never order enough, and what they do order is usually rabbit food. A light salad is not a meal.
“I’m on the edge of my seat,” I say when the waiter disappears. “What’s this offer that’s too good to refuse? Nice Godfather reference, by the way. It’s a classic.”
“You’ve seen it?” he asks, mildly surprised. “Most of the women I date have never watched it.”
“Really? Then that was risky, mentioning a dead horse head. I might have thought you were a serial killer.”
“True. Worth the risk, though.” He shrugs nonchalantly.
“Hang on, is that what we’re doing here? Is this a date?” I say, pointing back and forth between us.
“Not quite. I’m here to offer you a long-term position.” He crosses his arms over his chest, and I’m momentarily distracted by his bulging biceps.
Forcing my eyes back to his, I ask, “Okay, I’ll bite… What type of position?”
“I want you to be my full-time submissive, to live with me, and be at my beck and call. To serve me for twelve months. Honestly, I’m tired of going to Eden. And going through the process of NDAs for a one-night stand is more hassle than it’s worth. I’m over it. I want something long-term with someone I have amazing chemistry with. There’s no denying I find you attractive, physically. And our sexual chemistry has always been explosive. I’m proposing that you agree to be mine to fuck senseless for a year. And, of course, I’ll make it worth your while.”
I inhale deeply, letting the air fill my lungs before slowly exhaling, giving myself time to absorb his words.
“I’m offering twelve million dollars: one million a month. That’s a lot more than you would make at Eden. Plus…” He pauses, his gaze piercing mine, ensuring I grasp the weight of his next words. “Plus, whatever Mark is holding over your head. There’s no way a woman like you agrees to marry someone not of her choosing without being coerced. So, what is it?”
“Wait, a woman like me?”
“A strong, independent woman who bows down to no man unless it’s her choice.”
Taken aback by his unexpected compliment, I clear my throat before responding. If there’s even a chance he has the power to get Beth what she needs, then this offer is too good to pass up.
“My sister has a severe congenital heart condition and needs a heart transplant. She needs the surgery sooner rather than later, as she’s only going to get worse. I want her moved to the top of the list.”
“Is that it?” he asks, shocked.
“Yep.”
“Let me get this straight: you were willing to marry a complete stranger and start a family with him, all for the sake of a simple phone call?” he asks incredulously. I can sense his anger on my behalf, which is touching. But his judgmental tone also puts me on the defensive.
“My stepfather backed me into a corner. I had no other options. Beth needs that surgery, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she gets it. But I don’t have the same influence or resources as you and my stepfather. I’m not part of your world. I’m just trying to make the best of a bad situation.”
“I’m not here to judge. I just think it’s fucked up for your family to put you in this position. That’s all.” He raises his hands in a placating gesture.
“Tell me about it,” I sigh, feeling some tension ease out of my shoulders. “So, just to make sure I completely understand: I spend a year with you as your submissive, and then we both go our separate ways, no strings attached. No marriage, no kids, no commitment. And I get twelve million dollars and a new heart for Beth?”
“That’s correct.”
“What’s the catch? There’s always a catch.”
“There’s no catch, I promise. But I’m gonna be honest with you: Your stepfather does play a role in this. I’ve heard he’s desperate for a grandchild to be his heir. Stealing you from right under his nose and destroying his well-laid-out plan, is, well, it’s rather amusing to me.”
“Okaaay.” Understanding dawns on me. “So, this is like a big ‘fuck you’ to him, revenge for his attempt at taking over your company?”
“Something like that.” He smiles darkly.
How can I refuse? One year of submitting to this perfect alpha male specimen and breaking free from Mark’s controlling grip, versus a decade trapped with someone like Douglas. Not to mention steering clear of my mother’s toxic influence. Um, where do I sign up?
My panties are already damp and my core throbs at the prospect of spending the next twelve months with Dameon. But I have to approach this with a clear head. It’s a job, and although it’s one I know I’ll love, I must keep reminding myself of that. Otherwise, I risk sliding down that slippery slope into the murky waters of feelings, where a whole lot of hurt awaits.
The gentlemen at Eden often pretend to be dominant, but few truly embody the innate authority that Dameon possesses. None have ever fully satisfied my desires like he has, even though our encounters have been limited to the confines of Eden. Outside of that world, he remains a mystery to me. Yet, if I were a betting woman, I would wager that he’s every bit the alpha male beyond Eden’s walls.
This job is risky for precisely that reason. In Eden, everything is short-term—there’s no space for love, intimacy, or even friendship to develop. Keeping this relationship strictly professional and transactional will be a challenge. One night? No problem. But a whole year? That’s a different story.
“What do you say? Be mine for a year?” He smiles broadly with those gorgeous dimples.
“Absolutely, it’s a deal.” We shake hands, and the energy that vibrates between us is almost tangible.
“We’re going to have a lot of fun together,” he murmurs, his voice deep and thick with promise. I bite my bottom lip to stifle a groan, but he leans closer, gently freeing it with his thumb. His touch is soft as he strokes my lip, and I can’t resist. With a teasing glance, I wet the tip of his thumb with my tongue before taking it fully into my mouth, locking eyes with his sea-green ones. I wrap my tongue around his thumb and suck gently, his eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. Showing mercy, I release his thumb with a playful pop. Dameon leans back, composing himself, and shoots me a warning glance. I can’t help but smile, secretly pleased to have such a potent effect on him as well.
Dameon clears his throat, transitioning seamlessly into business mode. “In anticipation of your agreement,” he begins, “I had my lawyer draft the contract and NDA last night. Take your time to review them carefully and sign both documents. I’m available to answer any questions you might have. But I’ll be flying back to Sydney tomorrow. I’d appreciate it if you’d join me.”
“Perfect, I’ll be there.” I can’t wait to get home to Beth. Despite being away for only six days, it feels like forever. He hands over the documents, and I carefully tuck them into my handbag.
When our plates arrive, I eagerly dig into my pancakes, enjoying the flavors of lemon and ricotta exploding across my tongue. A satisfied moan slips from my lips, probably a little too loud to be socially acceptable, but I couldn’t care less. These pancakes are to die for. I catch Dameon discreetly adjusting himself under the table, and I suppress a giggle.
“You’ll pay for that little stunt.”
“Promises, promises.”
***
Walking out of the restaurant, my stomach and heart are full. Hope blooms in my chest for the first time since my arrival in New York. I don’t need to examine the contract to know I’ll accept his offer.
I slide into the back seat of a yellow cab and retrieve my phone from my handbag. I’ve been around rich and powerful men long enough to know that you don’t put all your eggs in one basket. It’s risky not to have a backup plan ready to deploy if the deal with Dameon falls through. Time to check the text messages from my stepfather that have been waiting for me since this morning.
Mark
I’ve made my decision on the candidate. Call me.
Jeez, would it kill him to say “Good morning”? Or “How are you?” Or even “Thank you for coming with me last night”?
Mark
I would appreciate it if Sleeping Beauty graced me with her presence when she wakes up. Come to my office when you get this.
I roll my eyes at his feeble attempt at fatherly sarcasm and instruct the driver to head to the address he sent. As the taxi pulls away, I sink back into my seat, nerves knotting in my gut. What if I’m making a mistake?
Arriving at his office building in the financial district, I find myself drenched in a cold sweat. Unease bubbles inside me like molten lava, threatening to erupt and spill over. Playing this dangerous game with my stepfather is reckless, and I nearly reconsider, tempted to turn back. My summery dress clings to my skin, and tremors run through my body as adrenaline surges through my veins.
With false bravado, I stride into the grand foyer of his towering skyscraper. I’m literally walking into the lion’s den waving a juicy piece of steak, expecting not to be eaten. Sending a text to my stepfather backing out of our agreement and seeking refuge in Sydney under Dameon’s protection would be the simplest option. Yet, something holds me back. I need to cover all bases, prepare for all eventualities.
“Hi, I’m Hailee. I’m here to see Mark Strickland,” I tell the woman stationed at the reception desk.
“Do you have an appointment?” she asks, not bothering to look up from her computer screen.
“Um. I don’t—” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“I’m sorry, miss, you’ll need an appointment to see Mr. Strickland,” she says, dismissing me.
Rude .
“But I’m—”
“Mr. Strickland doesn’t just see anyone who walks in off the street.” She eventually tears her gaze away from her screen to scold me.
I roll my eyes, pull out my phone and type a quick message. She raises an eyebrow as I hit send.
Me: Your guard dog won’t let me up.
Within seconds, her desk phone rings. I struggle to suppress a smug smile as her expression drops in recognition.
She hangs up, looking flustered. “I’m sorry, Ms. Mann, I didn’t recognize you. His office is on the sixtieth floor. Please, go on up,” she stammers, and I almost feel sorry for her.
When I step into Mark’s office, I’m not surprised at how flashy it is. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows frame a breathtaking panorama of the Manhattan skyline and a magnificent mahogany desk dominates the center of the room. It’s been stained and polished to a gorgeous reddish brown. Behind it sits the man himself, exuding an air of authority like a king reigning over his empire.
I roll my shoulders back and straighten my spine, meeting his gaze head on as I swallow the knot in my throat. Time to play with fire and see if I get burned.
“Mark, I have a counter proposition for you.”