Buy My Soul: A Sixty Days Novel

  Buy My Soul

  A Sixty Days Novel

  Jade West

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  Buy My Soul copyright © 2018 Jade West

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address below.

  Cover design by Letitia Hasser of RBA Designs http://designs.romanticbookaffairs.com/

  Edited by John Hudspith www.johnhudspith.co.uk

  All enquiries to jadewestauthor@gmail.com

  First published 2018

  Once again, to everyone who has supported, encouraged and stood strong for me through this horrifically painful year, thank you all.

  Sometimes my best has been better than others, but I’ve given everything of myself I can to this novel.

  I really hope part two of Brandon and Paige’s story was worth the wait.

  Foreword

  Warning. Part two ramps up a little from book one.

  As always, this is from Jade West’s imagination, complete with layer upon layer of inherent dirtiness.

  You have been warned.

  This is book 2 of a series. Please start your journey by reading Sell My Soul first.

  Chapter One

  Paige

  I’d never felt anything even close to what I felt as the beautiful monster threw me into the back seat of his car that night. My fear was just a shiver away from all out panic as he threw my college bag in after me and slammed the door closed.

  The boom was like thunder.

  And so was he.

  I struggled to pull myself to sitting against the sculpted leather as he moved to the driver’s side door, my gut still aching along with my head from the way I’d been manhandled in the alleyway.

  I’d been insanely dumb and I knew it.

  Approaching my sister’s violent loan shark drug dealers to try to palm them off with three grand in used banknotes and the promise of considerably more was a scheme worth one of those Darwin awards for idiots. My name would be up there in internet laughter for all time – Paige Rowan Emmerson, the dumb bitch who walked into certain carnage and a four-way dick fest.

  And I would have. I’d have walked into whatever seedy nastiness they’d have dished out to me for the sake of saving my sister.

  They would have dished it out too.

  They’d have left me a battered mess on the floor of an alleyway in the dregs of drugville, spread open wide for whoever else wanted to take their turn – if it wasn’t for him.

  Him.

  The man who’d saved me from my own stupidity like a knight in the darkness.

  My dangerous saviour.

  He didn’t look so much like a saviour right then. Not as he climbed behind the wheel and started up the ignition.

  He was seething. Dark eyes like black ice meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

  “I mean it,” I managed to tell him in a raspy voice. “I really am sorry.”

  “Oh, you fucking will be,” he snarled, and my terror notched up another gear.

  Self-consciousness ate me up. Embarrassment for my stupid actions burned worse than the punch in my gut.

  “Drop me anywhere,” I offered. “I can walk back in a few hours.”

  And he laughed.

  He actually laughed.

  It was a horrible laugh. Right from the violent pit of him.

  Because he was violent.

  Brandon Grant was a dangerous man.

  Brandon Grant. I still couldn’t believe I knew his name. His actual name.

  I still couldn’t believe what I’d seen from him, either.

  The power. The dominance. The unwavering strength of him in the shadows.

  I had no idea there were men like him in this world. No idea that a single man could be enough to make four brutal loan shark scum think better of standing up to him.

  There was no denying it.

  I was just as scared of him as I was of the men he’d pulled me away from. Maybe even more so.

  Yet still, I was grateful.

  Grateful to him for saving me from obvious doom.

  And I couldn’t deny it. Even as my heart pumped desperation around my body, I knew I liked it.

  Liked him.

  “I won’t be fucking dropping you anywhere,” he told me. “Your sixty days begin right here. Right fucking now. Prepare to pay your fucking dues.”

  My blood ran cold at his words. I couldn’t leave Phoebe in my dorm room alone. Without me. Without anyone.

  “But my sister…” I began, chancing a glance at the door handle.

  “Your sister can go fuck herself, Miss Emmerson,” he snarled. “Believe me, you have bigger things to worry about.”

  His eyes crashed into mine again. My adrenaline spiked to the max.

  I knew it in that heartbeat. In the way his glare cut me right through.

  I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I daren’t even look for my phone in my bag. It was somewhere in the shadows of the footwell along from me, and the odds the thing was either in there or functional after being tossed in the alleyway were far from in my favour.

  Plus, infuriating him any further was a whole world more shit to be reckoned with.

  So, I didn’t. Instead I stayed quiet and buckled myself into the back seat with trembling fingers. It took three attempts before it clicked in place.

  I was staring deadpan ahead as he pulled the car away with a heavy foot on the accelerator. The tyres screeched as we sped from the garages and onto the main street, his steering as strong as the rest of him as he took us through the city and out onto the open road of the countryside beyond.

  Maybe a girl in my position should have screamed and shouted and lost her mind, bailing out of there and away from such a terrifying specimen of dominance before he could fuck her up beyond repair.

  Maybe I should have asked questions. About where we were going and what he was planning for me.

  Maybe I should have kept up with the semi-rational chatter about what was going to happen to my sister in my absence and how I couldn’t let that be so.

  But I couldn’t.

  My voice wouldn’t utter a single word as he drove us into the depths of nowhere on the country lanes. The car weaved at speed, lurching me around the huge leather rear seat in my seatbelt every time we took a bend, but still I was silent, wide eyes staring at the overhang o
f trees through the windscreen as we ploughed on through the night.

  His voice was still bristling with rage when it came. “You’ll learn soon enough, Paige Emmerson, that girls around me learn to do as they’re fucking told or face the consequences.”

  My wide eyes met his again in the mirror, and this time they held. Electric.

  His flickered back to the road ahead, but mine were pulled like magnets, sucking on his reflection like it was my last supper.

  “Please,” I whispered, barely audible. “Please, I have to make sure my sister is safe. They’ll be after her.”

  “And I have to make fucking sure you earn your dues, little girl. As I said, your sister is the least of your concerns. You’ll know that for yourself before the night is done.”

  It wasn’t the thought of paying for my disobedience that pricked the tears in my eyes. I’d pay for it a thousand times over, however he chose to take payment.

  It was her.

  Phoebe.

  The girl I’d give my soul for, just to keep her safe.

  “Don’t even think about starting up the waterworks,” he hissed, and I realised my eyes were still on his reflection. “Siren tears don’t wash with me, sweetheart.”

  I looked down into my lap but couldn’t stop the tears falling. Relief? Sorrow? Hysteria? I didn’t know.

  “I could get clothes,” I said. “From my dorm room. I’d be quick, and I could check… check on her at the same time.”

  That laugh again. So cold. “What on this earth makes you think you’ll need clothes for sixty days with me?”

  I didn’t answer his question. My mouth kept on rattling with my previous train of thought.

  “And college. I could send an email to college. Tell them I won’t be back in for a while… that I’ve had an emergency…”

  “You’ve had an emergency alright,” he snapped. “Every day from here on in will feel like an emergency to bail out on. Only there is no fucking bail out. No emergency services rescuing you. No safe words. No escape. No changed my mind. Just you, and your time served, and the pay day at the end.”

  I knew this.

  I’d heard it, right around college and from Carolyn and Rebecca. From him too. From his profile on some dodgy website.

  I knew it would be sixty days of punishment without mercy, taking whatever was given in exchange for the pay day of a lifetime. I knew he’d have my soul in his grip, along with my body and mind and whatever else he wanted to break for him.

  It was just a shame that at that moment, in the back of a stranger’s car as he whipped me away to a sentence of utter brutality, the devil on my shoulder decided to shut its filthy little mouth up and leave me hanging.

  It felt like an age had passed before he slowed down the car and took a sharp left up a wooded lane. There were lights in the distance, a huge house appearing as the lane turned into a driveway and curled off to the right.

  The moon was overhead, ominous in its glow above the huge roof as he pulled the car to a halt on the gravel and turned off the ignition.

  I stared wide-eyed at the size of the place up close.

  It was massive. Grand and stunning in its opulence, even in the night. More like a manor for royalty than a random country house in the back end of nowhere.

  “Is this where you brought Rebecca Lane?” I asked without thinking as he wrenched the passenger door open. I was still fumbling with my seatbelt buckle as he muttered a curse under his breath and leaned in to press it for me.

  “It’s none of your business,” he said as he yanked me from the back seat. I reached in the direction of my bag but didn’t stand a hope of grabbing it before I slammed into the solid bulk of him. My bandy legs struggled for footing, but he held me firm. “From here on in, you have no business with anything other than doing whatever the hell I tell you to do and taking whatever the fuck you’re given.”

  I was staring up at the porch of the manor ahead when he squeezed my arm hard enough to hurt. He tugged me back to face him, and I was right back on the beach that very first night. His eyes were dark and burning, his gorgeousness burning even harder.

  “Do you fucking understand me?” he asked and I nodded.

  He glowered at me for a long second before I remembered my lesson from the beachfront hotel.

  “Yes, sir,” I managed. “I understand you.”

  It seemed to appease him.

  With that he dragged me up the main steps and slammed me into the wooden panels at the side of the main entrance. “Stay here and don’t fucking move,” he said. “I’ll be watching.”

  Even through the fear of him, I hated how he paced away inside and left me in the middle of nowhere under the dim glow of the overhead porch lantern.

  I hated how my body pined for his the moment he pulled away.

  He was gone for what felt like an age. Out of sight but not out of mind. My brain was nothing but him as I shivered and shuddered and fought the urge to run off into the wild in a crazy bid to make it back to my sister.

  I was slumped against the building with my arms wrapped around my chest when the front door swung back open. I didn’t even straighten up as he stepped out.

  He raised his nose to the sky with a terrible smile on his face when he stepped up to me.

  “Take a breath of that,” he said. “The great night air.”

  I took as much of a breath as I could manage, face puzzled. “Nice,” I said, in a faded voice.

  And that’s when he leaned in close. So close that his gorgeous mouth was an inch from mine, breathing his great night air right at my open lips.

  “You’d better make the fucking most of it,” he snarled, and his eyes were sparkling with rage and hate and the seeming need to crush the life right out of me.

  My heart span. Fluttered.

  My nerves jumped up and threatened to burst in my throat.

  And there it was again. The devil on my shoulder.

  It did a little dance along my spine and laughed its dirty little laugh at my dirty little soul.

  “Say goodbye to your freedom, little girl,” the beautiful stranger said, and dragged me inside.

  Chapter Two

  Brandon

  If I wasn’t already well aware I was out of my fucking mind, the faces of my idiot crew members would have told me so in no uncertain terms. They’d stared mute, dumbstruck as I’d charged through to the office and told them in no uncertain terms that the order of business was changing for the next sixty days.

  Not even my gormless brother had dared challenge my instructions.

  A bunch of the dumb fucks were gathered in the office doorway, Eric at the centre, when I dragged my pretty little prize in from the front porch.

  “Eyes on the floor,” I barked at her, and for once the girl listened, cheeks flushed pink as she avoided the stares from the sidelines.

  I wasted no time leading her through the main hallway and up the central staircase, taking the steps two at a time as she struggled to keep up on nervous legs. She stumbled at the top but I didn’t slow my pace, yanking her forward hard enough that the bulk of me caught her weight.

  I marched us past Annabel Fisher’s room at the end of the landing, turning left into the north wing and on through to my own private quarters.

  If I was rough with Paige in the hotel bedroom, I was a whole new league of savage as I threw her headlong into my suite. Her knees struck the carpet and she cried out as she landed full force, yet she’d learned enough not to raise her eyes to mine, keeping her stare down low as I slammed the door behind me and flicked on the overhead lighting.

  I stared at her through the red mist, temples ticking with the need to belt some sense into her, welts on top of welts without fucking mercy. I thrust my hands in my pockets, holding back on everything bar scorching her very fucking soul with my rage.

  “May I ask something, sir?” she whispered after a few long moments, and at first I ignored her, approaching in silence until I was looming tall before her. “Please,
sir?” she asked again, and I hated how the softness in her tone made my dick pulse.

  “Dirty little sluts don’t get to ask questions,” I said. “They do what they’re told and keep their mouths shut.”

  That’s when she first forgot herself, eyes flickering up to land on mine. “I’ll do what I’m told,” she said, “but first, please sir, I need to speak to my sister. I’ll do anything if you’ll let me speak to my sister. My phone… maybe my phone is in the car…”

  I’m sure my smile was nothing short of evil as I took a fistful of her hair. “You’re in no bargaining position, Miss Emmerson. Everything you are belongs to me for the next sixty days, unless you want me to deliver both you and your sister to those druggie cunts and leave you to pay the debt in kind.”

  I soaked in the state of her under decent lighting.

  Her eyes were puffy from tears, a smear of dirt down her cheek from the grime of the alleyway. Her dress was skewed messily across her tits, showing a scrap of lace bra underneath, and her leggings were torn.

  She was a fine specimen of distress, hitching back another bout of waterworks as I glared down at her.

  “I could destroy you in ways you can’t even imagine,” I said, but her eyes didn’t leave mine.

  “You saved me,” she whispered and I gritted my teeth at another dick twitch, fighting back the urge to fuck her raspy little throat until she choked up bile. “Thank you for saving me.”