Corrupted by Innocence

XAVIER

I’m already bored with the festivities. Some of my buddies are huddled in the corner, waiting for me to choose so they can bed the leftovers. I’m jealous because while I have already made my choice, the other six women are definitely more fun.

Dad gave me fuck all to work with before tonight, even though I saw those headshots nearly a week ago. I tried looking her up, searching for her face, and nada.

She has no presence online which is suspicious as fuck, but I trust that my dad, or at the very least, Ron, has done his homework.

The more I think about it though, the more I’m beginning to suspect that headshot number seven is the one dad wants me to choose.

She looks like a curse word alone will darken her soul. She’ll probably faint if I show her my Aston Martin, and I’ve got three.

I chuckle at that, knowing that my riches will wow her.

She looks kinda…poor.

And untouched.

That has me grinning like a madman, knowing that I will be the one to ruin her, to introduce her into the life I need her to live.

She’ll be at home, waiting for me, waiting to please me after a long day of fucking around. She will grow to love it, begging me to let her stay when the eighteen months are over.

Eighteen months of pretending that I’m not a reckless mess, that I don’t want to party and drink every night and waste my wealth on inconsequential things.

“Lighten up, dude! You’re ’bout to get your forever.”

The boys laugh as they clink their beers, garbed in different states of rumpled suits because their parents don’t own anything close to Knight Enterprises. We hang in the same circles, but they don’t have an image to uphold like mine.

I envy them.

Since last week, I haven’t been able to do anything I wanted, with the public told that there’s this big announcement coming up.

Everyone’s talking about it, especially since I haven’t been seen almost anywhere other than the corporate office.

It’s been suits and ties all week.

I hate it because there’s eighteen more months of this shit.

The boys don’t know that this isn’t some weird season of The Bachelor, although how they haven’t figured it out is beyond me.

I clap Chase on the back, nodding. “Yep, gonna be all wifed-in for a few months.” It’s part of the contract. Engagement for three months, and then married for the remaining fifteen.

The ruse is that we’ve been engaged since the beginning of the year, so almost six months to date.

Not sure how we’re gonna pull that off with the lack of chemistry I usually have with girls.

And if headshot number seven really is inexperienced, everyone’s going to see right through her. This is going to be the fucking performance of my life. I’m really going to have to sell it.

A sour taste creeps up the back of my throat at the thought. I really hate this.

ANGELA

Five minutes into the gala and I already despise the innocent little girl I have to play.

I should have chosen a better age, something that would assert maturity. Twenty-three years old is a terrible moment in one’s life because a woman is just figuring out who she is. Just out of college and with the whole world at her feet.

Xavier’s nearly thirty and in everyone’s mind, once they see us together, they will think it’s a farce. There is no way to pull this off. It can’t possibly happen.

“Excuse me, my love. Would you like a dance?”

I squint at the hand offered to me and wonder why someone other than Xavier has approached me.

I was given few details other than an address and a time to arrive. I was dressed and primped before being released into the gala full of people I’ve never seen in my life, none of whom look like they belong in the lineup.

I haven’t seen Xavier yet, but it’s only a matter of time, I suppose.

Staring at the hand just a little too long, the hand retreats but the voice does not. “You’re one of the choices but I assure you that Xavier needs something a little more… experienced.”

I fake a shiver at his naughty words, blushing as I bow my head.

Did I mention I hate this?

“I’m not—” I pretend to fumble through my words. The man grins at my attempt as his hand stretches out again. This time I take it, letting him pull me forward and onto a dance floor.

He could easily play a linebacker with his tall stature. He’s surprisingly limber for his rather large size too. maneuvering my small form as we glide across the floor.

His blood also smells sweet, and the temptation is just a little too much to bear.

His left hand grips my right, his other hand settling on my waist before slowing dropping down to cup my ass. I let out a little squeak in surprise, trying to play the part, my eyes going wide at the audacity of this man.

He smiles but keeps his hand there, his eyes glittering with every intention to bed me tonight.

This is not the plan, but it will work in my favor nonetheless.

I have done my homework and while Xavier is ruthless and reckless, and dangerous to little human girls, he’s also incredibly possessive and an alpha male that can’t stand to be bested.

Being in this man’s arms will most likely ignite Xavier’s possessive streak in front of all these people, cementing my place by his side.

I just have to play my part.

I lean into the man, mouth parting slightly and cheeks flushed with virgin arousal. It must be a wonderful sight to behold as he dips his head low to kiss me…but we never touch.

He abruptly disappears before me and I’m left standing in front of the man I’ve been waiting for all night long.

Xavier Knight.

In the flesh.

He’s taller than I thought; the pictures on the news have not been doing him justice. I can see why all the women drool over him.

Those piercing dark eyes, the sharp jaw, the peek of tattoos just beneath his collar, and that wonderfully monstrous piece in his pants, not to mention the spicy-sweet scent of his blood – one factor I haven’t planned for.

It takes all my restraint to keep myself from licking my lips, my fangs straining to make an appearance. Soon, I tell myself.

“What’s your name, princess?”

I instantly hate the nickname, but there’s nothing I can do other than melt under his stare.

His gruff voice sends tingles down my spine, reminding me of the lack of partners I’ve had in my bed lately, and my thighs tremble at the prospect of what he has to offer. And he has a lot to offer.

“Angela.”

“Angela,” he purrs as he stretches his hand out to take mine and pulls me flush against his chest. A gasp leaves my lips as I stare into his eyes and we start to move, gliding across the dance floor like I hadn’t just been in another man’s arms.

“I quite like that name,” he says.

With his hard body pressed against my soft contours, the only image in my mind is me on top of him, Xavier screaming out my name while I draw his blood.

We’ll get there.

But first, I need him to fall for the pretty little flower in his arms.