14 Mia

"So?" he asked softly, drifting his eyes slowly to my breasts and then back to my face. "What will you do? You look like a resourceful young woman."

He flashed a grin at me that would have made any woman spread her legs wide for him. Not me. It made me want to punch the smirk off his face, because he was implying something that hurt my pride.

He continued. "You're here to negotiate for your brother's release. Then let's do it. The closing date is Friday this week, Ms. Donovan. Two million cash. I get my money; you get your brother back."

I was so tense; when he suddenly touched my cheek, I jumped in my seat. "What if I don't… don't get the two million?" And in my mind, I shouted, How the heck do I get two million? There was no way that was possible. I get paid minimum wage, and I worked seven days a week to make ends meet. So how the heck would I be able to make two million in two days?

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find a way, Ms. Donovan," he said, drifting his eyes from my face to my breasts again, his fingers caressing my cheek.

Heat rushed to my face as the meaning of his words drummed deep into my mind.

"I don't fuck men for money!" I said through gritted teeth.

I'd never used the word fuck in the open before. I reserved that severely execrable word for dire situations, but he left me no choice. His assumption of my character pissed me off, and I couldn't control myself.

Oh, I could have kept my mouth shut like always, allowing everyone to bully and harass me, giving everyone permission to walk all over me, because that was what my aunt and uncle told me good girls do.

My so-called friends in high school, who were no longer my friends, thought I could never fit in because I was too shy and quiet and didn't know how to dress right. They felt the need to remind me of my shortcomings whenever they thought I deserved it. My aunt and uncle thought I was willful, wild, and stupid and I wouldn't amount to anything. They told me they'd done their best with me, teaching me and conforming me to be proper like them by slapping me and whipping me with a belt whenever they thought I needed the discipline.

Get your head out of the clouds and stop wasting your money and time reading those useless books, they'd always told me.

But those wonderful books had gotten me out of the real, harsh world. They had kept me sane and made me happy, at least for a few hours.

Then there was my boss, of course, who thought I was a worthless employee and condemned me to do all the dirty jobs, never missing an opportunity to criticize the small details. My colleagues kept bickering and backstabbing me when they were the ones who got the better pay by doing less. In the past few years, the harassment and bullying had gotten worse, especially at work, and I'd decided it was enough. I didn't want anyone to walk over me anymore. So I'd learned how to stand up for myself, to talk back, speak out, and demand attention.

Thus, to not speak what was on my mind now would certainly tell this Mr. J. Maxwell I was timid and juvenile, as he had so assumed my character to be and, hence, concluded I was incapable of finding him the two million dollars. Heck, I knew in my gut I couldn't find that two million in a short two days, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction that his postulation of me was right.

"Is that all you rich assholes ever think of? Throwing your damn money on whatever you deem attainable? Whatever you think has a price tag?"

I knew I was stepping on shaky ground, but I couldn't help myself. I had no idea how one dealt with a billionaire like this Mr. J. Maxwell. I knew suddenly and with trepidation, however, that I was doing it wrong the moment I saw the dark look in his eyes and the stern expression on his handsome features.

I tensed, waiting for his aggressive reaction to come. Shit! I knew he'd either slap me or call his security guards and let them bash me good while he watched, with enjoyment of course. That was what these billionaires did, right? I saw it in movies. Because they could get away with anything.

When I saw him narrowing his eyes at me and a slight sneer appear about his lips, I knew I didn't have to wait long to see my imagination unfold before my eyes.

"Well, do you have a price tag, Ms. Donovan?" he said chillingly softly. "Everybody does."

His words stung, but I didn't have time to think of a reply before, at lighting speed, his face was right in front of me and his hand was wrapped around the back of my head. I gasped at his firm hold on me, knowing suddenly I was imprisoned in his arms and I wouldn't be able to run away. Then I felt the heat of his lips crushed against mine.