T R A D E D
rebecca brooke
Copyright © 2015 by Rebecca Brooke
Cover Design by Sommer Stein of Perfect Pear Creative
Editing by Ryn Hughes of Delphi Rose
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
All rights reserved.
DEDICATION
To anyone who has ever thought that they can’t do better. You can. Don’t be afraid to go after your dreams.
She stood in the storm, and when the wind did not blow her away, she adjusted her sails.
~ Elizabeth Edwards
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Other Books
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
Elena
“What the fuck you looking at?”
The acid in his voice made me drop my eyes to the floor.
I should have made something else for dinner.
“I’m sorry, would you like me to make you something else?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper so I didn’t hurt his ears.
“No,” he snapped. “Since you can’t make a decent dinner, I’m going to skip to dessert. Hurry up and get your ass in the bedroom so I don’t miss the game.”
Afraid to disappoint him again, I jumped from the table and began unbuttoning my top as I made my way down the hall. The bedroom was dark, with only minimal light coming from the kitchen and the hall—exactly the way Dominic preferred. He said it was the only way he could enjoy himself. If he had to look at me it ruined his fantasies of having a gorgeous woman beneath him. He also didn’t appreciate me talking or touching him.
Letting my uniform dress and underwear drop to the floor, I took my normal position on the bed—lying on my back, arms at my side, legs spread as wide as they could go—and waited for Dominic to join me. After a few minutes he came through the door, shedding his clothes on the way. He grabbed the lube off the table next to the bed and gave himself a few quick strokes before climbing on top of me. With one painful thrust he entered me and I bit the inside of my cheek to hide my wince. Anything to help him enjoy the experience.
Over and over he thrust into me, groaning the closer he came to reaching his climax. Grunting, he pulsed inside and pulled out, letting his come dribble down my legs and onto the sheets before he rolled off me, picked up his boxers and pulled them on.
“I need to go watch the game. Make sure you wash the sheets before bed.” And out of the room he went.
Taking deep breaths, I tried to hold back the tears, all the while reminding myself that Dominic took care of me. He was the man of the house. I had to do everything in my power to keep him happy. I couldn’t afford, physically or emotionally, to lose him. Once I had myself under control, I stood, wiping myself with the sheets and looking for something to throw on to start the laundry. Folded neatly on the table at the end of the bed was a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Pulling on the clothes, I stripped the bed and walked back down the hall as the sounds of the baseball game flowed into the kitchen from the living room.
I didn’t want to disturb him by doing the dishes, so I quietly grabbed the laundry detergent and keys to the basement and left the apartment. The sheets would take about half an hour, enough time to get a quick shower and get back. Starting the machine, I went back upstairs. Dominic was standing in the kitchen, in front of the fridge.
“How many times do I need to tell you that no one wants to see your pasty white legs? Put on a pair of pants, for all of our sakes.” Shaking his head, he grabbed a beer and went back to the game.
“I forgot, I’m sorry. I’ll change after my shower.”
The minute he left the room, I sprinted to the bathroom, shutting the door and leaning against it, my body sliding to the floor. My eyes burned. If I just followed his directions then there would be no reason to get upset when he said things to me. I wiped furiously at my face and pulled myself off the floor, showering in record time.
Remembering what Dominic said, I put on a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt to head back down to the laundry, throwing the sheets in the dryer, then coming back upstairs to clean up the kitchen. Collecting the plates of chicken, I carried them to the trashcan and began scraping them off.
“Would you keep it down in there? I’m trying to hear the TV,” Dominic yelled. “Can’t do anything quiet, can you?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so loud. I’ll do my best to be quieter.”
I finished cleaning up, tiptoeing around, trying to make as little noise as possible. I’d just finished when the timer I’d set for the sheets went off and I hurried down to the basement. There was very little time left in the game. Dominic would want to go right to bed when it finished. He worked long hours and deserved to get as much sleep as he could. His job provided for us.
As quickly as I could, I made the bed. Cheering sounds reached me in the bedroom and I knew that meant the game was over. My hands shook waiting for Dominic to come in the bedroom. Would he approve of the job I’d done? Quietly, I sat on the end of the bed and waited for him, wanting to make sure there wasn’t anything else I could do for him before he went to sleep.
Dominic walked through the door, his eyes zeroing in on the bed. “The sheets are wrinkled. You’ll need to iron them tomorrow. Right now, I’m too tired.”
My heart sank. I’d tried so hard to get it right that time. Standing, I stepped toward the door and nodded. “I’ll take care of it as soon as I get home from work,” I said, my voice shaky.
He pulled the sheets back and crawled into bed. “Did you make my lunch yet?”
My eyes dropped to the floor. “Not yet. I wanted to make sure the sheets were ready when you came to bed.”
He turned on his side, his back to me.
“I’m going to do it right now, while you sleep.”
“Good. And none of that shit you tried to feed me for dinner.”
I watched him lying in bed, wishing that for once he wanted me with him. “No, of course not.”
Stepping out of the room, I shut out the lights and closed the door, moving quietly to the kitchen, giving him time to fall asleep before I went to bed, otherwise I would disturb him with all of my tossing and turning. I made him a sandwich for lunch and packed his cooler. That way, he could grab it on his way out the door in the morning and he wouldn’t be late to the office. I gave the room one last scan; satisfied everything had been done to Dominic’s standards.