His Price(7)

Merry fucking Christmas, Hegan. You found what you're looking for. Chuckling to myself I parked the car out front. Climbing the marble steps, I noticed the smooth surface was slicked over by a thin layer of ice. Carefully, I made my way to the door, trying not to slip.

The butler, Stefan, opened the door to my arrival. “Good evening, Sir,” he said.

“Hello, Stefan,” I said, cracking a wide smile. He glared at me, his brows dipping into his nose. I had to say his name with an accent. He always shot me a sideways glance, but I couldn't help myself. The man was so fucking uptight.

Stefan had been our butler for a little over two years now. And do you think I've ever seen him chuckle? Nope. He always stood still as a fucking stump, back straight, head held high.

“Late night again, Sir?” he asked, arching an accusatory brow.

“Yup, sure was. See you tomorrow afternoon, Stefan.” Flicking his tie, I tugged my shoulders back as I smiled and made my way up to my room.

Glancing over my shoulder, I watched him adjust his uniform. Stefan didn't care for me much, from what I could tell. Maybe I busted his balls a bit more than I should, but the guy was so dull. He followed my dad around like a lost puppy, ready and waiting to feed him lines of agreement with anything he said.

I tried relentlessly to get any type of rise out of him. From his first day here, he just looked at me like I was below him. His beady little eyes, and lines that ran across his forehead would stay flat. Stefan had the personality of a fucking paper bag, stiff and bland.

I bet if I ever became his boss, he'd probably quit. I understood he was at work and took his job seriously, but come on... He never even cracked the slightest smile.

I didn't even think he knew how.

He's not human.

Over the years, we had multiple butlers and maids. These people were paid to be here, to bend over backwards for all my family's requests. Life had been boring, you never did anything without the watchful eye of some stranger.

I was used to it now, but I hated every second of it.

Flopping down face first onto my king sized bed, I felt the massive wall of pillows crashing onto my back. Grumbling under my breath, I knocked them to the floor.

I never understood the meaning of decorative pillows, and no matter how much I complained, the maids constantly stacked them up elbows deep.

It was ridiculous, all for show and no function.

I mean honestly, what purpose did they serve?

One time I'd tried to protest them. I was twelve and tore the pillows to shreds, the feathers flew around filling the room. It was one hell of a mess for the maids to clean up, they pulled them from the vents for weeks after. I was sure the pillows would have disappeared after that, and did they?

Nope. The very next day my bed was riddled with twice as many. I can say for sure I hate pillows with a passion.

I know it seems like a bizarre item to despise, but when your life has been filled with little options for you to choose, pillows are a big deal.

As I sank into the mattress, Copper sat like a hefty meal in my gut. Her skin was a cream I wanted to drink, her legs looked endless, and I wanted them wrapped firmly around me.

She wasn't going to give in very easy, but I wasn't going to give her any option to get out.

My time was running out, I had to get this done, get an heir to keep my place in the books. I tried relentlessly to convince my mother to change my dad's mind, but she claimed her hands were tied; there was nothing she could do.

If she went against my father's wishes, he'd leave her with nothing too. They had an agreement, a pre-nup that put me in the middle. My mother had gotten pregnant with me when she was young.

That hadn't been in my dad's plans, no child was going to get in the way of his career. But here I was, a lone son, in a corporate world. It was like I was a part of his job, a piece of his work. My father had treated me like a damn sales objective for as long as I could remember.

And now, I'm the main goal to be set straight.

Copper... I wonder what her real name is? Shaking my head, I knew it didn't matter. Her real name was irrelevant. I only needed her pussy and my cock.

That was it. The rest... I didn't need to give a flying fuck about, it wasn't important.

But, how? How was I going to convince this woman to do what I wanted?

She didn't even recognize me, the son of the wealthiest man in the state. My father's picture was in the newspaper daily, all of the charities he donated to, job opportunities he provided the smallest state in the country. There was even a huge billboard with his picture on it, and people said we looked a lot alike.

I don't remember the last time I wasn't recognized. I'm Hegan Alexander, son of Brandon Alexander, CEO of Alexander Oil. Even going to the grocery store, women followed me around, taunting me with indulgent offers. And for what?