The Billionaire's Broken-Shoed Wife

ce Hur

hime, before a silken voice answered,

I stammered, my voice trembling despite my resol

to an eternity. "And what kind of assistance are you s

red, closing my eyes.

address will be sent to you. We look

a brand, a mark of ownership.

creet message with no sender ID. It was for a building downtown, one

-dollar debt from a failed business venture, had been desperate. Jason Lopez, then a rising tech star, h

ur families, though it was clear only his would truly thrive. I was an ornament, a pretty face to grace hi

into a different

tructures. My heart hammered against my ribs as I pushed open the heavy, unmarked door. Inside, a plush, dimly li

from a side door. "Florence Hurley?" she asked, her voice the same silken o

ged, my voice

, yet tasteful, filled with antique furniture and exotic plants.

d, not unkindly. "Are you truly suite

oney," I said, my voice gaining a desperate edge. "More than yo

n, beauty, and... companionship. The compensation is substantial. A single evening could yield tens of t

thousands. My mind reeled. Th

words tumbling out before

ou. First, a medical examination, then training in etiquette,

sistants, my phone vibrated in my

to keep my voice ev

demanding. "Marie said you weren't home. Did you a

ng like metal. "I... I just went for a walk.

ne. "I just transferred an extra thousand dollars to your account. G

o maintain his illusion of control. And the contempt in his

. "And I don't want it." I ended the call before he could re

apestries. We stopped before a heavy velvet curtain. "Beyond this is where you'll meet yo

, low tables, and discreet alcoves. Several women, exquisitely dressed, mingled with a few men whose faces were

an alcove, looked up. Even from this distance, I felt the inte

ngagement, Willow." She ushered me forward. "

mous connoisseur. My heart pounded, but beneath the fear, a strang

, focusing on the numbers flashing in my head. Each touch, each hour, brought me closer to my goal. The men were mostly polite, some

de was thicker than I' d ever seen. My hands trembled as I count

nde named Lena, said to me as we changed back into our

d, then hesitated. "He

don't care enough to ask. You're doing what you need to do,

tears, but glittered with a cold, hard promise. I got into the taxi, exhaus

it. Jason' s black sedan, parked menacing