EXTRACT FOR
Delicious Surrender
(Author Unknown)

CHAPTER 1

    

    Cassandra was minutes away from closing the biggest deal of her career, and the only thing on her mind was seduction.

    She kept her face stone as she listened to the dark-haired man at the other side of the conference room table drone on about cash flow and revenue. Henry Harris, the owner of Harris Industries, and what was soon to be her company's latest acquisition.

    "As you can see," Henry continued, "Harris Industries has a history of delivering strong profits to our shareholders..."

    Aside from in the past five years? That was when Henry inherited the family company. And because of his mismanagement, it was now millions of dollars in the red. It was doomed to go under.

    Unless someone else acquired it. Someone who could turn it around. That was what Cassandra's firm did. And as CEO, acquisitions were her specialty.

    So why was she thinking about seduction at a time like this? It wasn't the painfully dull conversation. And it certainly wasn't the company. Henry and the four men sitting at either side of him, all identical in shiny black shoes and Italian suits that couldn't hide the way their bellies hung over too-tight waistbands, were not the kind of people to inspire such feelings. And that was ignoring the fact that they were men. Men had never been on Cassandra's radar.

    No, the reason seduction was on her mind was because it was just like a business deal.

    First came the dance, the game of luring the other party in with flattery and hints of all the tantalizing rewards to come. Then came the overture, the proposition, either direct or indirect. Then the negotiation, the back and forth, the push and pull.

    For the Harris acquisition, this had all taken place over the past few months, but she'd been laying the groundwork for almost a year. The time had come to seal the deal.

    Because the pleasantries? The games? While Cassandra tolerated them as a means to an end, she preferred to get right down to business.

    Across from her, Henry cleared his throat. "Miss Lee-"

    "Ms.," Cassandra said.

    "I beg your pardon?"

    "Ms. Lee."

    "Er, yes. Ms. Lee, what you're offering us is, frankly, insulting. We're not some fledgling startup. Harris Industries is an institution. We've been leaders in the field for generations. You must consider the potential profits..."

    Cassandra allowed him to continue. But nothing he could say would sway her. She already knew the outcome of their meeting.

    She'd seen the numbers. And she could smell the desperation on him, hanging thick in the air like cologne. She'd known from the moment she walked into the conference room that she'd walk out of it victorious, a new acquisition under her belt.

    And while Henry would never admit it, he knew it, too. But she indulged him. She allowed him to feel like he had some control over the situation. She allowed him to think he still held some power.

    Were these games she played as CEO any different from sex? Running her own multi-billion-dollar company meant holding the kind of power and influence akin to that of monarchs of old. Wielding that kind of power meant always being in control.

    And Cassandra craved the same thing in the boardroom that she did in the bedroom-the power to bring her adversary to their knees and have them thank her for it.

    And the five men sitting across from her were about to get a taste of why she, a seemingly unassuming woman half their size, and at 35, almost half their age, was one of the most successful-and most feared-women in the corporate world.

    She closed the folder of financial documents on the table before her and set it aside. "My apologies, gentlemen. There seems to be some confusion. You appear to be under the mistaken belief that this is a negotiation."

    Henry blinked, his face slowly turning red. "Excuse me?"

    "You heard me. You've been playing games with me for weeks now. Stringing me along like a naive schoolgirl, something you wouldn't dare do to any of your male colleagues, might I add. I've entertained it for long enough."

    She scribbled a figure on her notepad, then tore out the page and slid it across the glass conference table.

    "This is my offer. My final offer."

    Henry's eyes narrowed as he read the figure on the page. "Ms. Lee. This is..." He looked up at her. "Cassandra-"

    She rose from her seat, her hands splayed on the table. "Take my offer. Or don't, and watch your company sink into the ground and your shareholders sue you for gross mismanagement."

    Silence fell over the room. Henry looked at the men on either side of him, but all he received in return were noncommittal glances. Like Henry, they knew the reality of the situation. Harris Industries was drowning. Cassandra was the only one who could save it.

    She looked at her watch. "I don't have time for this." Cassandra gathered her things from the table. "It's unfortunate that we weren't able to come to an agreement. I'm sure you'll have better luck elsewhere, gentlemen."

    She took her suit jacket from the back of her chair and marched purposefully to the door, heels clicking on the marble floor of the conference room.

    "Wait."

    Cassandra stopped, her hand suspended above the door handle, and turned to face him. "I've done more than my fair share of waiting already."

    Henry gritted his teeth. "We'll take it. We'll take the deal."

    She gave him a curt nod. "I'll have the contract finalized and forwarded to you by the end of the day."

    At once, the tension in the room dissipated. While Henry's irritation at being outmaneuvered was clear on his face, so was his relief. Cassandra's suspicions had been correct. He'd needed that lifeboat far more than he or his lackeys had let show. And despite Henry's objections, her offer had been fair. He could walk away with his pride intact, along with a tidy sum of money.

    Cassandra stood by the door as all five men packed up their things and got up from their chairs. As each man passed her on their way out, she exchanged a handshake with them.

    Henry was the last out the door. She shook his hand firmly. "It's been a pleasure."

    "Wish I could say the same," he murmured.

    "Let me assure you, Henry. Harris Industries is in excellent hands. I'll make sure it gets the attention it deserves. I won't let your company fail."

    Henry nodded. "Thank you."

    As she watched him leave, she felt a pang of satisfaction.

    They always thanked her in the end.

    

    Cassandra selected a bottle of wine from the temperature-controlled cabinet in her kitchen and popped the cork, then poured herself a generous glass before making her way to her open-plan living room. Two of the room's walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling windows, providing a breathtaking view of the night sky and the sparkling lights of the city beyond.

    She sat down on her couch, sipping her wine as she took in the cityscape. The view was one of the reasons she'd bought the penthouse apartment. It was a reminder of how far she'd come, how high she'd climbed.

    She had it all. Success. Money. Power. But it wasn't greed or ambition that drove her. She didn't care about money. She didn't care about prestige. All the articles written about her career, all the magazine covers bearing her face-none of it mattered.

    So why had she worked so hard all these years, clawing her way up from the bottom? It was because she knew what it was like to have nothing, no one. She knew what it was like to be desperate enough to do whatever it took to survive. She knew what it was like to be powerless.

    Never again. Never again.

    She released her hair from the neat bun at the base of her neck, letting her long black curls settle on her shoulders as she relaxed into her couch. That was all in the past. Her present, and her future, were hers for the taking.

    That was worth celebrating, as was the deal she'd made today. It was the biggest deal of her already illustrious career. And while the vintage Bordeaux she'd opened in honor of the occasion made an excellent nightcap, she wanted something more.

    She took her phone from the table, opened up her browser, and typed in the address of a website that couldn't be found on any search engine. She was looking to scratch that itch she'd had since the Harris Industries meeting, and she was willing to pay good money to do it. Because paying meant she got exactly what she needed, without the expectation of anything more.

    And this particular website provided that. The exclusive escort site was aimed at a discerning clientele. Clients and escorts alike were screened and carefully curated, and the prices alone were enough to limit the clientele to the wealthy.

    But that wasn't what made the site exceptional. The exclusive website specialized in clients who had unusual tastes. The kind of tastes that went far beyond sex.

    Cassandra logged in and began browsing through the profiles. Among them were one or two women she'd hired before. But none of them had been able to offer her what she truly desired.

    Complete and unwavering submission, body, mind, and soul. That was what Cassandra craved from a lover. Very few women had ever been able to offer her more than just a shadow of that. Some pretended well, but Cassandra could always see through their acts.

    And the few who had been genuine? They'd wanted more from her. An emotional connection. A commitment. A Mistress who owned not just their body, but their heart.

    And that was something Cassandra could never give them. So she'd had to cut them loose.

    She continued to scroll through the profiles. Ivy. Anastasia. Cherry. All pseudonyms, of course. And all their descriptions were equally fictitious. They promised to fulfill her every fantasy, to be her perfect submissive.

    But Cassandra didn't want perfect. She wanted real.

    Did eschewing connections of the heart make that impossible? Could she ever find what she wanted without giving a piece of herself to another?

    Never again. That was the promise she'd made to herself. She would never allow anyone else to have power over her. Her heart would never belong to anyone.

    As she set down her phone, a profile at the bottom of the screen caught her eye.

    Jasmine. 21. Submissive. And a photo of a young woman with red hair and hazel eyes, a scattering of freckles across her pale skin.

    But it wasn't the photo that caught Cassandra's eye. It was what was written underneath it.

    Virgin. Name your price. Highest bidder wins.

    She was auctioning her virginity?

    Cassandra picked up her phone and opened the woman's profile. There were several more photos of 'Jasmine,' which obviously wasn't her real name, along with a biography describing her as a waitress who had moved to the city a year ago. Her aspirations of going to college had led her to create the auction. The story couldn't possibly have been more cliche. Was any of it true?

    It didn't matter. Cassandra had no interest in buying someone's virginity. What was virginity but a social construct that was imaginary at best, problematic at worst? And she certainly had no interest in an inexperienced lover. Not even an enticingly pretty woman with eyes that seemed to tempt Cassandra even through a screen.

    But there was something about her that had Cassandra curious.

    She scrolled through the woman's page. Embedded in it was a countdown timer, ending in less than ten minutes. Beneath the timer was a figure, the current highest bid.

    It was almost one million dollars.

    One million dollars? Who would pay so much money for something like that? But Cassandra knew exactly who. She knew the kind of person who would buy someone's virginity for a seven-figure sum. Rich. Entitled. Predatory. The kind of men she sat across the conference room table from, day after day, who had so much money and power that they felt it gave them the right to anything and anyone.

    Oh, Cassandra was familiar with those people, and not only from the corporate world. She'd seen it from the other side, too. She'd seen the kind of exploitation and coercion that young women could fall prey to if they weren't careful.

    Of course, Cassandra had no reason to believe this woman was being coerced or exploited. And considering her own encounters with escorts, she'd be a hypocrite if she had a problem with anyone selling their body. As long as they were doing so of their own volition, it didn't matter to her.

    And yet, Cassandra felt a sense of protectiveness toward this woman. Was it because she knew what it was like to be young and desperate? Was it because she saw something of herself in the woman's face?

    Was it because she found her undeniably alluring?

    She examined the countdown timer again. Five minutes.

    And the winning bid had gone up to 1.2 million.

    She brought her wine glass to her lips and took a sip. She had no interest in this auction, or this woman. And the fact that Jasmine would probably end up sold to some rich man who got off on the idea of 'deflowering' an innocent, submissive young woman was not Cassandra's problem.

    The numbers flickered on the screen. A new bid. 1.3 million. The numbers changed again. 1.4 million. Then 1.5 million.

    Cassandra sipped her wine again. Three minutes left now. The spike in bids stopped. Who was behind them? 1.5 million dollars was an obscene amount of money, even for the wealthy.

    Two minutes. One minute. A new bid for 1.8 million. On the screen, the big red bid button stared back at her, along with the woman's tempting, teasing eyes...

    Cassandra shook her head. She doesn't need you to save her.

    But there were only 30 seconds left now. And the clock was ticking.

    Was she actually considering this? She closed her eyes and drew in a breath, attempting to push the idea aside. But in her mind's eye, all she could see was herself all those years ago, desperate and alone. And she could feel the helplessness of being at the mercy of another, and the fear that came with it, its paralyzing tendrils creeping through her body...

    Cassandra steeled herself. Never again.

    She looked at her phone. Twenty seconds left. Her thumb hovered above the screen. This was irrational. Crazy, even...

    Fifteen seconds. She took a generous swig of wine, then typed in a number.

    10, 9, 8...

    She pressed the bid button. A loading wheel appeared in its place.

    6, 5, 4...

    A new bid appeared, for two million dollars.

    3, 2, 1...

    The countdown timer disappeared. All that remained was the winning bid.

    Two million dollars. Her bid.

    The auction was over. Cassandra had won.

    'Jasmine' was hers.