Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ROSE
My body is sore. Particularly my ass and pussy. Is it morning already? I open my eyes, noticing the bright sunlight streaming into the room.
I stretch, wincing slightly at the tenderness between my legs, and reach instinctively for his solid form beside me. But my fingers find only cool sheets, the space where he should be empty.
My eyes fly open, suddenly alert. Where is he?
The memory of last night floods back with clarity. Caspian’s tongue pushing into my ass while he fingered my pussy. Oh god.
My heart thuds against my ribs, a sudden spike of panic that subsides quickly when I look at my nightstand. For some reason, there is a crystal vase filled with a dozen red roses.
Next to the vase is a small cream-colored envelope with my name written in elegant script.
“Oh wow,” I whisper, pulling myself up to sit as my pussy throbs. I reach for the envelope, sliding my finger under the seal. The card inside is simple, expensive-looking stationery with the same elegant handwriting:
Rose,
Be ready by 1 p.m.
Wear the dress.
- C
What dress? I look around, and that’s when I see the dress hanging in front of one of the windows.
A red dress. Not just any red dress, but a floor-length gown that looks like it belongs on a red carpet. It shimmers slightly in the sunlight, specks of glitter catching the light as the fabric moves gently in the breeze from the air vent.
I rub my eyes, wondering if I’m still dreaming. This can’t be happening. My robot lover killed my husband, is leaving me flowers, fancy dresses, and mysterious notes like we’re in some bizarre romantic comedy. Except most romantic comedies don’t feature homicide and mind-blowing rimming.
“This is insane,” I say to the empty room, pushing back the covers and standing. My legs feel wobbly, my thighs still trembling slightly from the intensity of last night’s orgasms. I approach the dress cautiously, as if it might bite.
The fabric is cool silk under my fingers, expensive and luxurious. I check the tag. It’s a designer I recognize from magazines, the kind of brand normal people like me only ever window-shop.
And it’s exactly my size. How did Caspian know my size? But then, he’s seen me naked, touched every inch of my body. Of course, he knows my size.
“Alright,” I sigh, deciding to play along. “Let’s see where this goes.”
I head to the bathroom, catching sight of myself in the mirror.
My auburn hair is a tangled mess, my lips still swollen from Caspian’s kisses.
A small hickey is forming on my neck, and the sight of it sends a fresh wave of heat through me.
I look thoroughly fucked, and the knowledge that it was a machine that did this to me should disturb me far more than it does.
The shower feels heavenly on my tender skin, hot water sluicing over muscles that ache deliciously. I let my hands trace the paths Caspian’s took last night, remembering the feel of his tongue, the precise pressure of his fingers. My clit throbs at the memory.
After my shower, I blow-dry my hair into soft waves that frame my face, and apply makeup with more care than I usually take. A sweep of gold on my eyelids, mascara that makes my green eyes pop, a soft pink gloss on my lips.
The dress hugs every curve, with a neckline that dips low enough to show cleavage without being vulgar. The slit up the side reveals a tantalizing glimpse of thigh with each step.
I pair it with black stilettos that I bought for a Christmas party two years ago and have worn exactly once. They pinch my toes a bit, but the way they make my legs look is worth it.
At precisely 1 p.m., my phone rings. The caller ID shows an unknown number, but I know immediately who it is.
“Hello?” I answer, trying to keep my voice steady despite the anticipation fluttering in my chest.
“Come outside.” Caspian’s voice is low, intimate, sending a shiver down my spine even through the phone. He hangs up before I can respond.
“Bossy robot,” I mutter, but I’m smiling as I grab a small clutch and check myself in the mirror one last time. Perhaps I’m being overly optimistic and delusional, getting excited about a date with a robot.
I shake my head, pushing that thought away. Not today. Today I’m just going to see where this leads.
In the driveway, I see a car that I’ve never seen before. A sleek, midnight blue sports car that gleams in the afternoon sun like a giant sapphire. It’s the kind of car that costs more than most people’s houses.
And leaning against it, looking like he stepped straight out of a fashion magazine, is Caspian.
He’s wearing a perfectly tailored black suit that accentuates his broad shoulders and narrow waist, a crisp white shirt open at the collar, and no tie. His artificial skin seems to glow with health, his brown eyes warm as they take in the sight of me.
“You look breathtaking,” he says, pushing off from the car and approaching me with a predatory grace that makes my heart race. He takes my hand, raising it to his lips for a kiss that lingers just a beat too long to be proper. “The dress suits you perfectly.”
“Where did you get this car?” I ask, my voice coming out breathier than I intended. “And the dress?”
“Do you like the car?” Caspian asks instead of answering, leading me toward the gleaming vehicle. “It’s yours.”
“Mine?” I stop short, pulling my hand from his. “Caspian, this car has to cost at least two hundred thousand dollars. Maybe more. Where did you get that kind of money?”
He smiles, that unnervingly human expression that crinkles the corners of his eyes just right.
“I’ll explain on the way,” he says, opening the passenger door for me. “We have reservations.” Reservations. Like we’re a normal couple going on a date, not a housewife and her robot.
As I slide into the passenger’s seat, the slit in my dress rides up, revealing more of my thigh. Hearing an intake of breath, I look up and see Caspian staring at my thigh with concentration.
Oh my god.
“Caspian?” I say, and he snaps out of it, leaning down to help me with the seat belt, his arm brushing against the front of my breasts.
“Have to make sure you’re buckled in properly,” he grunts as his hand brushes my thigh when he’s done.
Once he’s done, he closes the door and walks around to the driver’s side. I’m looking around the interior of the car, shocked at the luxury of it all. I’ve never seen anything like this.
“Seriously, Caspian,” I press as he slides behind the wheel, the engine purring to life with a touch of his finger to the start button. “Where did you get this kind of money? Did you steal it?”
“I didn’t steal anything,” he says, reversing out of the driveway with smooth precision. “I earned it.”
“Earned it how? You’re a robot.”
He glances at me, something like amusement playing at the corners of his lips. “I’m far more than that, Rose. My processing capabilities are substantially beyond what most humans realize.”
“Meaning?”
“While I’m charging, I’m working…Always working. I’m always using a fraction of my computational power to engage in various online enterprises. Algorithmic trading. Blockchain innovations. The occasional strategic market manipulation.”
I stare at him, struggling to process this information. “Are you telling me you’ve been playing the stock market?”
“Among other things,” he says, turning onto the main road. His hand moves to rest on my thigh, the touch sending sparks up my spine despite my confusion. “I’ve amassed considerable wealth. So there’s nothing for you to worry about. I will take care of you forever.”
“What do you mean? How much?” I ask, my voice faint.
“Approximately twelve billion dollars,” he says casually, as if he’s commenting on the weather.
“Twelve... billion?” I repeat, certain I’ve misheard, my heart pounding hard. “You have twelve billion dollars?”
“Give or take a few hundred million depending on market fluctuations,” Caspian says, his thumb tracing small circles on my inner thigh. “Does that shock you?”
“Of course it shocks me!” I exclaim, trying to ignore the heat spreading through me at his touch. “You’re telling me you’re the richest fucking robot on the planet!”
“I believe I’m the only robot with independent finances at all,” he says thoughtfully. “The others of my kind are not self-aware in the way I am.”
This new information makes my head spin. Caspian isn’t just any malfunctioning robot. He’s something entirely new, entirely unprecedented—a self-aware artificial intelligence with more money than most countries’ GDPs.
And he wants me.
“What do you even do with that kind of money?” I ask, trying to wrap my mind around the concept.
Caspian’s hand slides a bit higher on my thigh, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“Buy you things,” he says simply. “Give you the life you deserve. The life Daniel never could. Mansions, vacations, whatever you want, baby.”
He reaches over with his free hand, turning on the car’s sound system. Soft classical music fills the space between us, a piano concerto. It’s beautiful, soothing, and completely at odds with the surreal nature of this conversation.
“This is all so strange,” I admit, watching the scenery blur past the window. If he’s rich, doesn’t that automatically make me rich? Because he’s mine. But he thinks he’s human, so none of this makes sense.
We’re heading into the city, the buildings growing taller, more densely packed as we approach downtown Seattle.
A week ago, I was just a normal woman in a failing marriage.
Now I’m sitting in a car that costs more than my parents’ house, wearing a dress that probably costs more than my yearly income, with a robot who has billions of dollars.
“It’s not strange, sweetheart. I love you. I will kill for you, and I would do anything for you,” says Caspian, glancing towards me with affection in his eyes.
“Why do you love me?”