My father, buried under a mountain of debt, drugged me and delivered me to a powerhouse’s hotel room. Just an hour ago, I was on my knees in front of that same man, begging him. Begging him to be merciful, to spare my father and me. The tycoon, his leather shoes gleaming, had chuckled down at me. “And what, exactly, do you have that I could possibly want?” Now, he was walking toward my bed. I was burning up, my consciousness fading, but I fought against him with what little strength I had left. He ignored it. And began to push a string of prayer beads inside me, one by one. “Baby,” he whispered, his voice a low caress, “you’re finally mine.” 1 Hot. So incredibly hot. My whole body was on fire… I didn’t know what was happening to me, only that a searing heat was spreading through my veins, a fever that wouldn’t break. Just an hour ago, I had been kneeling before Sebastian Croft. I was pleading with the city’s most formidable tycoon, begging him to extend the deadline on the thirty-million-dollar debt my father and I owed him. Sebastian was dressed in a sharp black suit, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes half-closed as he held a cigarette between his fingers, lost in thought. I’d never dealt with him before, had no idea how to read the depths of his mind, so I just kept my eyes lowered, playing the part of the obedient supplicant. If he would just show a sliver of mercy, this whole humiliating ordeal would be worth it… He crossed one long leg over the other, the polished leather of his shoe so close it nearly grazed my cheek. His strong, slender fingers hooked around my tie, yanking me forward until my trembling face was inches from his. He exhaled a perfect ring of smoke right at me. “And how, exactly, do you plan to beg me, hmm?” The smoke stung my eyes, bringing tears. I could only look at him, my vision blurring. “…Anything you want, Mr. Croft. I know you don’t need anything, but I can give you everything my family has left as collateral.” Sebastian raised an eyebrow. Through the hazy smoke, I thought I saw the ghost of a smile touch his lips. He seemed to be in a good mood. He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear, his tone light, as if sharing a joke. “And what, exactly, do you have that I could possibly want?” That one sentence sent me plummeting from hopeful anticipation straight into the depths of hell. The moment I was out of that private room, I turned and kicked the wall in a blind rage. “Croft, you son of a bitch! Fucking pretentious asshole! You promised you’d help if I came to you in person, you fucking liar! Fine! I hope you have a son born without an asshole and that your ancestors curse you from the grave!” The cursing didn’t help. The memory of what he’d done to me, the casual humiliation, made my blood boil. I spat on the ground, my teeth clenched. “That fucking old man. He’s probably got erectile dysfunction, that’s why he’s such a bitter bastard. Can’t even keep his hands off other men. Back in the day, they would’ve drowned pigs like him! The world is a sick, twisted place!” Around the corner, the hallway was deathly silent. Sebastian’s assistant didn’t dare look up, the temperature around him having dropped to freezing. Under the dim corridor lights, the man stood perfectly still, the line of his jaw sharp and unforgiving. His voice, when he spoke, was a low, magnetic rumble, several shades darker than before. “Did I just tell my team to grant him an extension on the debt?” The assistant nodded meekly. “Yes, sir.” Sebastian tapped the ash from his cigarette, his face a blank mask. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said, his voice deceptively calm. “Tell his father that if he wants that extension, he can deliver his precious son to my bed.” “I’m going to personally teach him the meaning of a sick, twisted world.” 2 It was too hot. I kicked off the blankets, desperate for relief, and tugged at the already disheveled remains of my shirt. A deep, feverish blush was creeping up my neck and across my cheeks. I fumbled with the buckle of my belt, trying to free the aching pressure building in my pants, but my fingers wouldn’t cooperate. What the hell… this can’t be happening… Shame burned through me, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. That glass of water my father gave me before he left… it had to be it. But it was too late now. The door to the room swung open. A tall, imposing figure walked slowly to my bedside, looking down at me with an air of absolute authority. The moment I saw Sebastian Croft, the last of my fight drained away. My eyes, wet with unshed tears, glared at him with pure fire. He leaned down, ignoring my feverish struggles, and his long, powerful fingers spread me open. “Such a good boy,” he purred. “Knowing to get rid of the obstacles yourself.” If looks could kill, this perverted old bastard would be in a thousand pieces. But under the drug’s influence, my broken sobs were swallowed by his invading tongue. My resistance melted into breathless moans. “What was that, my dear?” My lips trembled as I pressed them to his ear. “Sebastian, I’ll fucking kill you, you sick freak… ngh…” I fell silent. Because the string of prayer beads he always wore wrapped around his wrist was now entering my body, one by one. I was drenched in sweat, speechless. My mind screamed, Sick freak, filthy old lech… I cursed him until my nose was red and I couldn't breathe, and then, suddenly, the fight went out of me. I grabbed his hand as he reached for a tissue to wipe me clean, and just stared at him with wide, pleading eyes. “You old bastard,” I whimpered, “don’t just watch. Help me catch my breath!” He may have misunderstood. He slowly leaned down and kissed my lips. “See? So much more obedient when you don’t have the energy to curse me.” His words nearly made me pass out from pure rage. I’m done! I can’t live like this! But I didn’t die. Afterwards, I huddled under the covers like a coward in its shell, refusing to come out no matter what Sebastian said. This was a matter of principle. A straight man’s principles. Just because Sebastian Croft was twisted didn’t mean I had to be! I muffled my voice with the blanket. “Sebastian, do you realize this is kidnapping? I could have you arrested for this!” He was unfazed. “Your father was the one who drugged you.” “Impossible…” I shot up in bed. It had to be this old bastard. He used his power to force my father! Sebastian fastened his cufflinks, his gaze cool. “Consider it a down payment.” “…” This is disgusting. What a vile, black-hearted scheme! Seeing the smug, satisfied look on his face only fueled my anger. But there was nothing I could do. What was done, was done. I couldn’t exactly return the favor—the size difference alone made that a losing proposition for me. “Fine,” I said, grabbing my pants from the floor. “Then our debt is settled. Wiped clean!” I hadn’t taken a single step before I heard his voice, cold and menacing, from behind me. “Who said anything about wiping it clean…?” “The deal I made with your father was one million per session.” 3 Don’t get angry. Don’t get angry. It’s not worth dying over. If that bastard Sebastian was still breathing, I couldn’t let myself die of a rage-induced aneurysm. He’d probably laugh at me in the afterlife. I slowly crawled back under the covers and tried to present myself. That didn’t feel right, so I shifted positions. A million a pop, huh? Forty-something more times and I’d be free. Just then, a cold draft hit me, and my ass cheeks clenched involuntarily. But Sebastian didn’t move. I let out a bitter laugh. “Croft, are you going to do this or not?” He had his eyes closed. What the hell? Now he was playing the gentleman? Then who was that sex-crazed demon from last night? I peeked out from under the blanket, my eyes drawn to the large, damp patch on his pajama pants. Just as I did, a large hand pushed my head back down and tucked the covers in around me. “Once every three days. Overexertion is bad for the body.” I almost coughed up blood. Did he think I was begging him to grace my humble abode? Was he a fucking monk all of a sudden? So many rules. At this rate, when would I ever pay off the debt? It’s not like you can force a horse to drink! Frustrated, I looked him up online. And what I found was that Sebastian Croft had, in fact, spent two years in seclusion at a monastery. Even after returning to secular life, he maintained a strict habit of drinking herbal medicine. No wonder the old house had caught fire. He was making up for lost time. I looked at his face—so deceptively serene, so holier-than-thou—and nodded to myself. Of course. Pretty monks are always… Mmph! My eyes shot open as his lips crashed down on mine. I heard him swallow, then his voice was a low whisper in my ear. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking. You’re not going anywhere until this debt is paid. You’re mine.” “My payment. My wife.” 4 Fine. Won’t let me leave, huh? I’ve got plenty of ways to make you. I turned Sebastian’s villa into my personal playground, banging on pots and pans, performing bizarre ritual dances, and generally causing as much chaos as humanly possible. I was hoping he’d get sick of me and kick me out. Unfortunately, the villa was miles from the city, and the rooms were soundproof. Sebastian was completely undisturbed. He even suggested I stop making a scene and use the time to get a Ph.D., offering to buy me all the research materials I needed. Getting a Ph.D. while getting screwed? Was he even human?! I’d already suffered through a bachelor’s and master’s in medicine; I wasn’t about to go back for more. So, when he had a guest over, I upped the ante. I threw myself on the floor and put on a one-man melodrama of a grieving widow, wailing and sobbing for all I was worth. The guest stared, his jaw on the floor. It took him a long moment to speak. “Your… wife is certainly multi-talented.” Beside him, Sebastian just smirked. “Isn’t he? I think so too.” “Next time, I’ll set up a stage for him,” I seethed. “You can invite all your friends over for the show. Wouldn’t want them to miss out on all this entertainment.” I was fuming. As soon as the guest left, I stormed into Sebastian’s room to confront him, only to find him drinking his herbal tonic. The bitter, pungent smell filled the room. It was clearly not your average herbal tea. I leaned in and sniffed. “How can you drink this stuff? It’s so bitter. Don’t you ever eat anything sweet?” He patted his lap, and I grudgingly sat down. Before I could react, he took a large gulp of the medicine. The next second, his hand was on the back of my head, and his warm, medicine-laced lips were on mine. “Mmph… Croft, you… glug…” I struggled. He pulled away, sighing contentedly. “It’s not bitter anymore.” I was furious. Of course it wasn’t! The medicine was in my stomach! What did he have to complain about? I spat a few times to get rid of the taste. How could he drink that stuff every single day without so much as a grimace? I had to give him credit. I gave him a thumbs-up. “Seriously, man, to be able to stomach that… you’re the real deal.” Sebastian looked down at my thumb. “It is bitter.” He smirked and gestured for me to lean closer. I did. His gaze darkened as he looked at my lips, and he gently wiped away a stray drop with his finger. “From now on, you can drink my medicine for me… You like it? I can have them bring you another bowl.” Another bowl? Was he insane? “Sebastian, I’ll kill your entire fucking family!” I roared. Sometimes, I swear he had selective hearing. I could be cursing his ancestors, and he’d act like he hadn’t heard a thing. He just raised a finger, his tone authoritative yet gentle. “The goji berries, angelica root, and red dates are all very nourishing. If you find it too bitter, I’ll have someone bring you some candied fruit.” Nourishing, huh? My eyes lit up with curiosity. Sebastian stroked my hair like I was a cat, then left to give some instructions. I sat in his chair as a servant brought in another bowl of the tonic and a plate of candied fruit. I took a small sip, then a piece of fruit. It wasn’t so bad. I just wondered what it was for. Was it good for the kidneys? Maybe it would make me strong enough to flip him over in a fight. “What’s this for?” I asked casually. The servant glanced at me. “It’s to… to treat one’s sexual orientation.” “Pfft!” I nearly sprayed a mouthful of tonic across the room. He was making me drink medicine for what? I wasn’t the one who was bent! The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I finished off the rest of the candied fruit in a huff. That bastard. I hoped he died childless and alone. 5 Sebastian had his routines. Every Friday, he went to the temple to make a donation. And he insisted on dragging me along. I was dead tired in the car. He’d kept me up all night again. “Why are we going to a temple?” “To pray.” He paused, his eyes drifting down to my crotch. A slow smile spread across his face. “To pray for an heir for the Croft family.” I choked on my tea. “Pfft—are you insane? Who’s going to give birth?” He gave me a look that said, It’s not going to be me. Me? I’m a guy. Do I even have the right equipment for that? What was wrong with him? Had all that meditating turned his brain to mush? I looked up and realized he was just messing with me, which only made me angrier. I’m not a kid. When we got to the temple, a novice monk handed me a string of prayer beads. “So, what kind of services do you offer here?” I asked. The monk bowed his head. “We hold ceremonies, chant scriptures…” I raised an eyebrow. “Do you do funeral rites?” The monk paused. “…My condolences, young patron. For whom shall we pray? When… when did they pass?” I looked up and saw Sebastian a hundred yards away, talking with a long-haired man, his expression cold and all-business. I grinned. “My husband. He’s not dead yet. Can I place a pre-order?” The young monk had probably never heard of pre-ordering a funeral. I pointed toward Sebastian. “See that man over there? You can get the deposit from him directly.” My voice wasn't quiet. They heard me. The long-haired man chuckled. “Sebastian. It seems you’ve brought home a real handful.” Sebastian glanced in our direction, then quickly looked away. “You could say that.” His complete lack of reaction surprised the other man. “You can tolerate that? You’re a saint.” He turned to look at Sebastian, and then his eyes widened in shock. “Holy shit. He’s cursing you like that, and you can still get a reaction? You’re a total masochist!” Finally, the man’s lips twitched. “You know what? You two really are a match made in heaven.”
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