The Dom's Deal: A Dark Contemporary BDSM Romance (The Pleasure Wars Book 1)

  The Dom’s Deal

  The Pleasure Wars | Part One

  Harper West

  Edited by

  Red Axe Editing

  Contents

  Dear Reader

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 1

  Also by Harper West

  About Harper

  Dear Reader

  Thanks so much for taking a chance on my word baby! I hope you love them as much as I do! I’m still new to this whole writing thing, but I’m hella excited to see what happens and have you join me on this journey!

  I hope you love sexy alpha males, and killer romance, as I’m a huge fan, so that’s what I’m writing about. Oh, and menage. I love me some menage, because it’s all about her, am I right ;)?

  Keep an eye out as I’ve got quite a few books I’ve been holding on to, coming out soon so make sure you sign up for my newsletter to stay informed!

  xoxo,

  Harper

  Chapter 1

  Ash

  "Hey, Ash! Ash!"

  I froze with one foot on the step, looking towards the door of my apartment. I was so close that I could run for it and make it before the landlord got there, but then I'd just have to deal with him pounding on the door, demanding to talk to me.

  I'd been successfully avoiding him for the last three or four days but coming home in the middle of the afternoon had been my downfall, clearly. I sighed and stepped down, waiting for him to catch up to me.

  "What's up, Evan?" I asked, even though I knew full well.

  He gave me the best version of his 'sympathetic look'. Everyone had one. It was a look that said 'hey, I understand you're going through something right now, but I'm really going to need my money'.

  "Ash, it's Friday," he said. "You said you'd have the rent today."

  I sighed. "Yeah, I know."

  The look didn't let up. "Listen, I know you've got a lot going on with school and work and everything, but I can't let people live here for free. You're a good tenant, and I never get any complaints about you. You're not growing weed in your closet like the guy in 207, but I need the rent. This is the third time you've been late."

  "I know," I said again. "I just need a couple more days, Evan, I promise. I'll get my check from my other job, and I'll hand it right to you, I swear."

  The thing was, he'd definitely heard me say that before. He sighed and rubbed a hand through his greying hair. "Okay, Ash. I'll give you until the end of next week to get it to me, but you have to have it on time next month, or... I'm going to have to evict you. This is a popular spot for people your age, and I can rent your apartment out to someone who can afford it pretty easily, so."

  "I can afford it!" I insisted.

  He looked skeptical. "Okay. I'm not trying to insinuate anything. I'm just looking at your track record. So just. Get me the money and be on time next month. Can you do that?"

  I forced a smile and gave him a salute. With the wrong hand. "Sure can. You don't even need to worry about it. I can handle it." I started walking up the stairs backwards, almost desperate to get to my apartment door.

  "Okay," he said again. "I'm expecting a check on the first. Not an IOU or a promise of a check. An actual, real life, able to be cashed check."

  It was a huge effort not to tell him to go fuck himself, but he did have a point. "Yep. You'll get it. See you, Evan."

  I jammed the key in the lock and let myself in, closing the door behind me with a grateful sigh.

  Evan was being beyond nice by giving me more time, and most other landlords would have already had my ass on the street by the time I'd been late twice. He was giving me extra time, but the thing was, I didn't know if I'd have the money in a week. And I definitely couldn't promise I'd be able to pay on the first.

  Everything that could go wrong was going wrong.

  My first job, working as a receptionist at the local art gallery, had cut back my hours, and even though I made up for it by taking more hours at the coffee shop, it was just not enough to cover everything.

  I was constantly rearranging payment dates, and stalking my bank account to see when my direct deposits would come in. Both of my credit cards were maxed out from buying groceries and paying for textbooks, and even the stash of money my parents had sent me 'for emergencies' was dangerously close to being gone.

  I didn't know what I was going to do.

  If I lost this apartment, I had nowhere else to go except back home to my parents, and they lived about two thousand miles away. That meant I'd have to drop out of my graduate program at the university, and go back home with my tail between my legs in shame.

  I'd talked so much shit about how I was moving to the big city to follow my passions and didn't need a job at my dad's store. I could do things on my own.

  Now I was at rock bottom with no idea how to climb back up.

  I groaned and slid down to sit on the floor, back pressed against the door. There was no use panicking and getting depressed about it now. I had to come up with a plan. Maybe if I moved some stuff around and was late on a few other things I could get the rent covered.

  I could call in a favor or two, maybe. I'd covered some shifts for coworkers for the extra money, maybe they'd let me borrow...

  Ugh, I hated the idea of that. From a young age my parents had drilled it into my head that borrowing money was a bad thing to do. It made things awkward between friends and put a weird dynamic in place.

  My dad didn't even believe in credit cards. "If you can't afford it, don't buy it," he always said. Of course, he was a weirdo who still tried to pay for everything with cash in the year 2019, but every time I thought about getting a loan or asking for money, the words came back to haunt me.

  So I wouldn't be going down that road.

  Only problem was there weren't a lot of other roads to go down. I had no idea what to do about the situation.

  Pulling out my phone to check my bank account sure as hell didn't help. Apparently my phone bill had gone through, even though I was pretty sure I'd taken it off automatic payments. I'd almost had enough to cover it, but the forty-three cents that I'd been short had overdrafted my account. So, unless I could get some money in there, I'd be hit with a charming fee.

  Why me? Why did terrible things always happen to me? Between two jobs and school, I was busting my ass. If I had the time for a third job, I'd take it, but I was already stretched too thin and not sleeping enough.

  Between the workload and the stress, I was lucky to get four hours of sleep a night. Less if I had an opening shift at the coffee shop.

  Every area of my life was suffering, and I had no idea how to fix it.

  I couldn't even afford to order takeout and drown my sorrows in cheap Chinese food.

  Which meant it was going to be another night on beans and rice with some freezer burned ground beef thrown in there for variety. Joy and wonder.

  Sitting on the floor pouting about it wasn’t going to get me anywhere, so I made myself get up and went to sit on the couch, booting up my laptop. Maybe I could find a cheaper apartment and that would take some of the pressure off.


  Maybe I could find a higher paying job and quit one of my other two.

  Maybe money would rain down from the sky, and I could run around with a big bag scooping it up.

  It was as likely to happen as finding a cheaper place in the city. Evan was already renting his units for way lower than the standard, appealing to college kids and grad students. Which was funny considering how much he complained about the dumb shit kids did in his building.

  I was half tempted to go down to 207 and see if he had any weed left, just to mellow me out.

  The next morning, I was at work at the coffee shop, trying to get through the day without having a nervous breakdown. There was just so much on my mind, and I had no idea what to do about any of it.

  I’d been up all night for the most part, tossing and turning, trying to come up with some solution to my money issues that didn’t involve calling my parents for help or digging myself into more debt.

  At one point I’d even seriously been considering trying to get into the stripping business. There was a girl I went to high school with who’d gone down that path, and judging from her social media posts, it had worked out pretty well for her. I knew I wasn’t brave or attractive enough to pull that off.

  Just like I knew working part time for eight bucks at hour at the coffee shop wasn’t going to get me where I needed to be, either.

  The Jumping Bean was one of those trendy coffee shops that catered to a little bit of everyone. College students from the local university, busy moms on their way to dance recitals and soccer games, exhausted third shift workers just trying to make it through the day, and even the occasional high-powered businessperson or lawyer who worked in the city and wanted to support local businesses.

  We saw them all and served them their piping hot life blood with a smile.

  There was always a pretty long lull after lunch on weekdays, and we took that time to clean up and gossip while there were no customers clamoring for our attention.

  Laura, the other barista on shift, leaned against the counter, one hand on her growing baby bump. She had that whole pregnant lady glow thing going on, but Laura always seemed to glow whenever she was on shift with me. She was one of those people who didn't seem capable of being in a bad mood. I'd literally seen her get scalded by hot coffee and laugh it off.

  "How are you, Ash?" she asked, and I sighed while I cleaned out the blender. She even sounded like she genuinely wanted to know.

  "I mean, do you want the socially acceptable answer or the truth?" I asked.

  "Oh, dear. That doesn't sound good. I'll take the truth if you want to share it with me."

  I sighed and swirled water around in the blender carafe angrily. Laura was younger than me. She was married and pregnant, and when she got too big to work, she was going to quit this job. I had no idea how she was going to pay for baby stuff and her bills and everything while she wasn't working, but she didn't seem worried about it. Maybe her husband was pulling in enough money to cover everything. Maybe they had a real good savings account. Either way, I'd never seen her stressing about what she was going to do.

  It felt stupid to stand there and pour out my worries to her, but I kind of needed to get it off my chest before it killed me. I opened my mouth, and it all came pouring out of me.

  "Stuff is just... I don't know. Everything is too much, if that makes any sense. My landlord is threatening to kick me out because I'm late with the rent – again - and my other job cut back my hours. This one barely covers the bills I have to pay, and I'm falling behind at school because I'm always skipping classes to cover shifts to try and bring in more money. I love the program, but if I can't afford to live in the city, I may as well just drop out because I definitely can't make the commute, and I don't have anywhere to stay anyway."

  "That does sound like a lot," she said, sounding sympathetic. "Are there no cheaper places near campus?"

  I shook my head. "Not this late in the semester. I could probably move at the end of the semester after people graduate, but I don't know. I'm just trying to get through this month."

  "Well," she said. "I have to take off for a doctor's appointment next week, so you can have my shift if you want it." She gave me a warm smile, and I knew she was trying to be helpful.

  "Thanks, Laura. I'll see if I can cover it. I mean, it'll all be fine, right? Worst case scenario, I have to drop out and I get evicted, and I go back to the middle of nowhere to live with my parents and work in my dad's grocery store. It could be worse. A lot of people have it worse."

  "That's true," she said. "You won't be homeless, and that's a very good thing. I will miss you, though, if it comes to that."

  I smiled at her. She really was a very sweet person. But before I could thank her, someone on the other side of the counter cleared their throat, and we both jumped and turned around.

  He was here again.

  The mystery man who’d popped in over the last few weeks around the same time each day. Laura called him ‘Mr. silent and deadly—fuckable.’ Not that we were ogling him every time he came in. It’s just . . . a man like him was hard to miss. He gave ‘tall, dark and handsome’ an entirely new meaning. I mean, he was ridiculously handsome, but he was also pensive and dominating without saying a single word.

  Most times he came in, he’d sit in a far corner table and watch the counter every so often. I could swear he was looking at me more than once, but I figured it was just mistaken. There was something thoroughly exciting and frightening about him. For one thing, he was completely out of my league and I figured a man like that had dark demons just waiting under the surface to be unleashed; but for another, his attention was overwhelming. All it took was one look and his focused stare held such intensity, you couldn’t maintain eye contact without your breath hitching in your throat.

  The coffee shop had been empty when we'd started talking, and somehow, he'd managed to come in and get to the counter without either of us noticing.

  "Sorry, sir," Laura said, putting on her customer service smile and subtly sexy voice. "We didn't see you there. What can I get you?"

  He looked her up and down with cool gray eyes and then looked back to me. "I wonder if I could have her take my order." It was phrased like a request, but his tone made it clear he expected to get what he wanted.

  Laura and I exchanged glances and she shrugged before stepping back so I could move up to the counter. I put on my version of the customer service smile, though I was sure it was a little sharper than usual. "What can I get started for you today?" I asked him.

  I hoped he wasn’t one of those elitist jerks that came to the city for business and harassed minimum wage workers to get their rocks off.

  He dipped his head to the side and studied me. I refused to cave so I returned his stare. This close up, his eyes were startlingly gray against his dark lashes. There was a small scar through his left eyebrow, and his hair was brown and wavy, framing his strong jaw to perfection. His suit probably cost more than my car, and he had on an expensive looking watch and shiny cufflinks. I was sure his shoes would be just as pricey. Definitely some CEO or high-powered executive in the city for business.

  Suddenly he smiled, revealing a dimple in his left cheek. “Would you like to have dinner tonight?"

  "Excuse me?" I said, taken aback.

  He smirked, "Dinner? It’s what people enjoy in the evening. Usually several hours after lunch, Ms..." He drew it out, obviously waiting for me to fill in the blank.

  I didn't. Men like him didn’t ask women like me to dinner. He probably dated models. Or socialites. Or high-priced escorts. What the hell did he want with me? It couldn’t be good.

  "Is your proposition you ordering coffee or some kind of pastry and then me getting it for you? Because if not, I probably don't want to hear it."

  He watched me as if he could see right through my walls and far into my darkest depths. It was giving me the creeps . . . and a naughty feeling in my lower regions. A feeling I chose to ignore.

  He smiled wi
der. "A skeptic, interesting."

  "No, I'm a barista," I said. "It's my job to make you coffee and heat up croissants. Past that, I don't really have to care."

  "You must do very well in tips," he shot back dryly, and I narrowed my eyes at him. Why was it that god chose to give the best looks and the most money to the worst kind of people?

  "Look, if you're not ordering anything, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. This counter is for paying customers."

  He made a show of glancing around the coffee shop, which was still otherwise empty. "And you do seem to have so many of them here, waiting for your service.”

  We stood in a stalemate of sorts as he raised his brows.

  He leaned forward placing his hands on the counter and dipping his head to the side, “Look, it’s really very simple. I’d like to take you to dinner. Do you want to go? Yes or no?”

  "Wow," I said, mockingly. "How can I refuse such a romantic offer?”

  "Is that a yes?" he asked, grinning brightly. Of course his teeth were even and straight, and he was so damn handsome I wanted to hit him. I’d never felt aroused by someone five minutes after meeting them—and I refused to show this hot, wealthy bastard, that he had any effect on me.

  "Actually, it’s a hell no," I replied.

  He glanced over my shoulder to Laura, “Is this how she always responds when a man asks her out for the evening?”

  Laura just shrugged, her mouth wide open in confusion as to what this ‘living-god-of-a-man’ was doing asking me out. Hell, I was confused too.

  “What do you want from me?” I asked.