His Absolute Betrayal - Elise's Love Story: The Billionaire's Continuum (#2) (A Contemporary Romance Novel) (27 page)

Thus, he set a day to travel to the nearby village of Rosedale and pick his pet from amongst the masses.  Preferably a very poor girl, because presumably that worked better, but he also wanted a good one, too.  Poor, but pretty, and someone who wasn't a complete idiot.  Also she needed to stand out a bit, but not too much.  He just wanted the perfect girl to be his pet and he didn't think that was too much to ask.

Elizabeth grew up in Rosedale.  She'd spent her entire life there, and she rather hated it.  There wasn't anything to do.  Or, there was a lot to do, but it wasn't worthwhile.  She could scrub dishes at the inn if she liked, or play as a waitress for the same place, but that wasn't exciting.  Do laundry, possibly, except the old women of the village loved that task and spent nearly all day every day sitting by the river and washing, washing, washing, along with gossiping, gossiping, gossiping.  It got old very fast, and Elizabeth just didn't think she could do it for long.

And, anyways, she was a pretty girl.  She had the most beautiful black hair and plush pink lips.  Why should she hang around with the older women, or let men ogle her in a skimpy waitress outfit?  Granted, the waitress outfit looked gorgeous on her, hugging the curves of her body and pushing out her bust so it looked bigger than it already was; which, from what she knew, was rather big enough.  And actually, the older women weren't so bad, but they kept trying to set her up with their grandsons(who usually ended up being twelve years old).  She constantly needed to explain to these women that she was twenty-two and nearly twice as old as their grandchildren, over and over.

None of it worked out well.  She tried waitressing once and everyone thought she was a prostitute.  Which, she wasn't, and if she were she wouldn't have slept with ninety-nine percent of the men who propositioned her(she held out that last percent just in case, but she'd never met a man who fit the bill).  And when the older women weren't trying to set her up with their young grandsons, they constantly said she must pad her bra, and wouldn't listen when she denied it.  She didn't like cleaning clothes much, anyways, and the batty women made it even worse.

She did like sales, though, and her glasses made her come across as more knowledgeable and intelligent, but the shops she'd worked at disapproved of her tactics.  Shameful, they said.  Sell the customers what they want and don't hassle them.  Was it her fault if she knew they'd need something else later.  Or maybe they wouldn't need it, but if she convinced them they did she could sell it to them anyways.  She made plenty of money, but the shopkeep she worked for didn't like it, and when she went to another shop to get a job the shopkeep from the first told the man from the second and...

So, Elizabeth didn't do sales out of a shop anymore.  She ran her own business instead.  Nothing extravagant, but it provided money for everything she needed.  Which was to say, quite a lot.  She needed to pay taxes for her mother and father's home, plus her grandparents house.  And her sister wasn't doing so well, so she helped her out, too.  She wanted her little brother to get a decent education, instead of listening to the crazy old man prattle on by the well in the center of the village square; which was how most parents went about educating their children.  Odd, that, since the man never said anything good.  She didn't understand how parents thought he could teach their children when he didn't know anything himself, but most of them still did it.

Elizabeth used books to tutor herself, which seemed best.  Now, she knew she wasn't the smartest person ever, but she'd read quite a few books.  Four hundred and seventy six at last count.  Some of the books weren't useful, but she liked them still, and usually she gleaned some type of useful information from every book.  Like, for example, she'd read a book about a girl pricking her finger on a spinning wheel and falling asleep for a hundred years and decided soon after she would never sew.  Not that she thought the same would happen to her, but sewing was a bore, and whenever someone asked her to do it she told them how she was dreadfully frightened after reading that story and she just couldn't!  Not ever, not at all.

This worked out most of the time, and soon Elizabeth had a list of people to do things for her.  She paid them, of course, but usually she gained more from it.  Did a man need something stitched up, though privately without anyone knowing?  She could do that, hide the evidence of his adulterous affair, but it'd cost ten silver coins.  He paid her ten, she went down the street with his shirt and hired a woman to do the job for eight, and she profited two.  That was what she did, lots of jobs like that.  Message delivery, pot and pan repair, basics of this and that, along with more interesting tasks like finding out what Mr. McDougal was doing at the inn last Friday night and why he didn't come home until early in the morning.

Elizabeth wanted to go to a bigger city, but she couldn't afford it.  She made money, but everyone needed something in her family, so she ended up giving them most of what she earned.  That was the problem with liking your family, she thought.  They were nice people, though, and never asked for the money and showed appreciation when she helped them, so she was happy to do it, but...

Then, one day, a herald announced the coming of the Prince.  From the castle!  Which was exciting, and Elizabeth might've gone to see him, but she had business to do and profited quite a bit from everyone heading to the town square.  She hired a few street rats to run around and pick up some things, lose a few others, find more and put them somewhere else entirely.  Mischief, in a manner of speaking, but when someone paid the right price she would do a lot of things.

Except it didn't entirely work out that way.  As she sat in her mother's kitchen, windows opened wide, reading through her checklist of tasks that needed doing in the couple of hours while the Prince was here, someone interrupted her.

"Hello there," a man said from her window, peeking inside.

Elizabeth jumped, startled, then looked up.  She didn't bother hiding her book of tasks, because barely anyone in the village could read except for her and a few of the elderly.  "Hello," she said.  "May I help you?"

Then she noticed who she was speaking with.  The Prince!  But wasn't he supposed to be in the center of town, doing whatever he'd come to do?  The herald mentioned the Prince was looking for a pet, which made no sense.  Still, most everyone she knew had brought their animals for him to inspect, hoping for a hefty price if one of them caught the Prince's eyes.

"I'm Roland," he said.  "The Prince here, um.  And you are?"

"Elizabeth," she said, prim and proper.  "Did you come to me for a reason, Roland?" 

This was her break!  She could do a job for the Prince and make enough money to pay for her family and leave Rosedale for somewhere more interesting.

Except the Prince said, "Yes, I'm looking for a pet, and you've definitely caught my eye, so I'm choosing you."

She stared at him.  He looked at her with complete sincerity.

"Are you serious?" she asked.

He paused, unsure for a second.  "Yes?"

"You don't sound serious."

"Well, no, I mean, I am.  This is how this works.  You'll come to the castle as my mistress, and I'll pay you a monthly allowance.  I don't much care what you do with it.  You can have a room to put your belongings in, if you want?  There's lots of empty ones in the castle, so it shouldn't be an issue.  It's a big place, you know?"

"A mistress," Elizabeth said.  "You haven't a wife, though.  Neither are you courting someone, as far as I know.  Is this a private affair?  You know if you announce you have a mistress, people will know you're secretly dating a girl, don't you?"

"I'm not courting anyone, though."  Roland scratched his chin.  "Um, maybe that's why it's called a pet?  I know some of my friends aren't in relationships and they have one, so I think it's fine.  I should ask about that, though."

"So you don't know what you're doing?" she asked.

"I know
what
I'm doing," Roland replied.  "In a manner of speaking."

"So you know what you're doing, but you don't know how to do it?"

"I'm new at this.  You're being awfully confrontational, aren't you?  It's not good behavior for a pet.  And since I've claimed you as that, you've got to do what I say."

"I think that's the wrong way of it, because you haven't paid me yet, and from what you said that's part of the deal."

Prince Roland held up a finger, gesturing for her to wait, and unstrapped a money pouch from the belt at his waist.  He held it through the window for her.  Elizabeth took the bag in her dainty fingers and untied the string holding it shut.  Quick, sorting the money into piles, she counted it.

"Ten gold coins," she said, hiding her excitement.  "Is that all?"

"What do you mean is that all?  That's a lot of money."  The Prince looked nervous, though.  His face was red and sweat dripped down his brow.

"I want fifteen."

"Fine, fine!"  He rummaged through his pockets and brought up five more gold coins(no silver this time), passing them to her through the window.

"I've changed my mind.  I'd like twenty now."

Again, the Prince grabbed for more money in his pockets, but this time he hesitated before handing it to her.  "Wait a moment—"

Drats!  Maybe she shouldn't have pressed her luck, but she could tell he wasn't much of a bargainer and she thought she could get away with it.  He was going to rescind on their deal and take it all back, wasn't he?

"I'd like to say, first," he said, "this pet business, there's a certain amount expected of you, alright?  And this is it!  No more money!  Just twenty, or I'll find another pet.  That's too expensive."

Elizabeth sighed a breath of relief.  "Alright, yes, twenty is a good price."  Twenty gold coins!  She could do a lot with that.  "What are the requirements?"

"There's sex," he said.  "Also, you've got to listen to me."

"Sex, alright."  She turned to a blank page in her notebook and jotted this down.  "With you, I assume?"

"Yes, yes, with me."

"So this is like prostitution?"  The Prince was definitely in the one percent she would prostitute herself to.

"No!  I don't need to hire a prostitute!  I'm the Prince."

"Well, it is
like
it, though, since you're paying me and I'm supposed to have sex with you.  We can call it whatever you like, but I'm just spelling out the terms of our agreement here."

The Prince furrowed his brow and scratched his head.  "It's somewhat like that, but not entirely.  Don't say that in front of other people, though.  I have a reputation to uphold."

"Is that part of this agreement, too?" she asked with a smirk.

"Yes, no mentioning prostitution."

"Alright, what else?"

As it turned out, there wasn't a lot.  The Prince wanted sex, and for her to listen to him, and he thought that was just about it, but he wasn't entirely sure and they might renegotiate at a later date.  Elizabeth agreed, had him sign the bottom of the page with the list of rules, then she signed below him.

"It's not quite legally binding," she said, "but it's to remind us of what we've agreed upon."

"Yes, well—speaking of that."  Roland was inside the house now, and looked to the ceiling, fidgeting with his hands.  "I'd like to test the goods, if you will?  Before finalizing anything.  Purely business, you realize?"

"You want to have sex with me?" she asked.  "Right here?"

"Maybe in a bed.  Do you have beds in this village?  I can never tell what you do or don't have.  It's so difficult to keep track."

Elizabeth practically dragged Roland to her bedroom.  He followed her, whining and complaining, especially up the stairs, and saying if she harmed him she'd be arrested.

"I'm not going to harm you, silly."

He understood better once she shut the door of her bedroom.  Possibly small by his standards, but the bed would suit their needs and she liked it well enough.

"Is this it?" he asked.  Leaning against the door, he lifted his leg up and touched the opposite wall with his foot.  "It's a bit small, isn't it?"

"Shut up," she said, getting to her knees and trying to figure out how to unbuckle his pants.

"Is that a bed?" he asked, scrutinizing her straw-filled mattress on the floor.  "There aren't fleas, are there?"

"How do you get this off?"  She didn't have a million experiences with men, but most of the ones she'd bedded wore pants much less fancy than this.

"Oh, you just do—"  He unsnapped a buckle, undid a few buttons, then pulled at a certain spot and his pants dropped to his knees.  "—this."

She grinned, looking at her reward, and—then frowned.  "You're not even hard."

"I'm nervous!" he said.  "I wasn't expecting this."

"Is this going to happen often, because I'm not sure why we added sex into the agreement if so?"

"No!  No, look, hold on."

Roland put his hands under her arms and picked her up from the ground so she was standing next to him.  "Let's—let's take it slow.  Savor it."

Elizabeth shrugged and laughed.  "Whatever you wish."  For twenty gold coins she could go as slow as he liked.  Even for less, she might agree, because Roland was a Prince and rather handsome.  Just the fact of sleeping with him could get her money from someone, she was pretty sure.  And hopefully he was a good lay, since they must train royalty in that or something, right?

He removed her glasses and placed them delicately on a shelf nearby.

"I can't see."  She frowned.

"Shhh."

Despite his previously awkward nature, he did end up being rather good at this.  His hands were masculine and strong, yet smooth, unlike the rough fingers of most every other man she knew.  He unbuttoned her white blouse down to the top of her black corset, then pushed away the fabric above her chest.  Moving in, he kissed the tops of her breasts and licked along the curves of her collarbone.

Elizabeth melted.  Most men she knew, and occasionally fucked, went straight for the goods.  They never bothered to unbutton anything, they ripped her clothes off.  They didn't kiss her, they slobbered on her.  They didn't—