Page 7 of Paid With Innocence

“Megan, you don’t understand,” I say, my voice low. “I wasn’t asking your permission.”

3

MEGAN

My heart is going to explode as I walk with Orson out to the Rolls Royce sitting right in front of the restaurant. I guess that’s a perk of owning the place; you get to park wherever you want.

I don’t know whether to be smitten or scared as he opens the door for me. Maybe a mixture of both…

The city’s most eligible bachelor just told me I belong to him now.

When I left the apartment tonight, I thought at best I’d come home with a few hundred dollars. Now I’m being pulled into a whole new world. A lavish lifestyle that even Trish can’t imagine.

As I slide into the car next to Orson, I stare at him in absolute awe. Is this actually happening?

The way he got up in Chuck’s face…defending me like we’d been together for years. I thought for sure after he exposed my lie that he’d walk out, leave me to find my own way home. Instead, he marked his territory. Showed everyone in the restaurant that I was his.

And now he’s taking me back to his house—his manor—where I guess I’m just going to live from now on?

“I wasn’t asking your permission.”

His words replay in my head as we drive. I focus on my breathing, fighting back a panic attack as we leave the city behind. Orson says little, mostly just talking about the house and how much I’m going to love it. But when he puts his hand on my knee, I nearly jump out of my skin.

If only he knew this is the closest I’ve ever been to a man. The most contact I’ve ever had from one. What’s he going to think when he finds out?

He’s not going to want me.

He must have had hundreds of women—thousands. I don’t even know. But what I do know is he’s ridiculously hot, richer than God, and beneath that custom-made suit, he has a ripped body. He could have anyone. Anything. Why pick me?

Just as I’m starting to get my heartrate down, we pull up to a massive wrought-iron gate. A plaque with a massive B carved into it proclaims the status of the place. The wealth. Orson squeezes my knee, sending a jolt through me, and presses his thumb to a screen I hadn’t even noticed.

The gate creaks open slowly, revealing a home that takes my breath away.

It reminds me of one of those old medieval estates you see in television shows. The ones that were built like five hundred years ago and have been passed down from generation to generation—that housed kings and queens and dukes and have massive libraries filled with expensive books and paintings that belong in museums.

I didn’t even think houses like this existed in America.

“Kinda small, isn’t it?” I tease.

Orson lets out a hearty laugh and smiles at me in a way that starts my thighs tingling.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He nods. “I probably couldn’t even sell it if I wanted to.”

My heart starts racing as we pull up the drive, which is longer than the street I live on. Or lived on…

There’s no way this is my life now. What could this man even see in me? I’m just one of a thousand girls who would all do anything to be with him. What’s he going to do when he realizes he’s doing all this for a virgin girl who has no idea how to please a man?

I need to come clean before this goes any further. “Listen, Orson—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupts. “You need your things. I’ve sent my assistant to your apartment to pick up everything. He’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Your assistant…”

The car stops, and I look out the window at the enormous manor. Perfect stone, ivy, golden windows gleaming with light like something out of a fairy tale.

“Come on.” He smiles, leaning in. “I’ll give you a tour of the house.”

I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. All I can do is watch as he gets out of the car, comes around to my side, and opens the door for me.