First Chapter of BOUGHT, Book One of the Bachman Obsession Series

LUCIAN BACHMAN- THE NIGHT When it ALL begins...

I pace the floor like a caged animal, blood thrumming with anticipation and a restless need that makes me reckless. This part always feels the same. The air clouds with tension and my blood runs primal.

Beneath the ritual of the deep-grooming shower, crisp white button-down, and tumbler of whisky to steady my nerves, tonight feels different. There’s a sharpness to it. An edge the drink hasn’t touched.

I tell myself I’m just waiting for release. When the itch becomes too intense to ignore, I call the agency and place an order. We have a good night, endorphins will flood my system, and I’ll send her away with no trace remaining. 

Just another transaction, clean and forgettable.

Then back to work, focused and ready for battle.

But I asked for a virgin.

And I can’t stop asking myself why.

I pay for women who understand the rules and don’t confuse the pleasure with anything more than business. No names. No questions. No strings. Just body heat that causes combustion, followed by the calming effects of warm embers.

It’s always been enough.

Until now.

With the Bachman world in turmoil, and Blaze and I the only two left here to save it, lately, even the most perfect smiles feel dull. The compliments? Empty. The practiced moans? Annoying. They seem rehearsed, and I start to feel like a ghost in my own room.

I made a stupid decision.

With the Morettis tightening their grip on the city, my focus should be on war. On strategy. On survival. But the itch under my skin has spread too deep and turned into something raw and burning.

So, I decided to try someone younger and less experienced; a wildcard. I already know it was a mistake, but she’s on her way.

And it’s too late to turn back.

I wait with a pit in my stomach, because what if an innocent, naive virgin doesn’t understand the rules? I clearly wrote everything out for the agency, and they had her sign it. But I don’t know what to expect when that door opens.

Mack knocks twice.

“Come in.”

My bodyguard opens the door, standing to the side to reveal her.

There’s nothing sultry about her makeup-free expression; instead, she appears like a warrior. Chin held high. Her bright blue eyes are sharp and focused. Dark hair falls past her shoulders.

When she steps over the threshold, she hesitates. Not for long. Only a beat. Enough for me to notice. Enough for me to care.

Not only do I want to see more of her body, but I’m offended by the inadequacy of her coat in this weather. “Take your coat off.” My words are quiet but with an edge.

She does. Slowly.

Eyes on mine, she unfastens the belt at her waist, slides her arms out of the sleeves, and lets the coat fall to the ground, creating a ring of gray wool that forms a moat around her shiny black high heels.

She leaves it where it lies.

She’s wearing a simple black dress that accentuates her curves. Her strong nose, tilts slightly to the left; possibly broken at some point and left to heal naturally. Her blue eyes dart around the room.

This isn’t the innocent, naive prey I ordered.

She’s a fighter.

“You’re not what I expected,” I tell her.

Her gaze narrows at me. “You either,” she says.

“How so?” I ask.

“Older,” she says bluntly. And I am older than her, by a decade at least. “I thought you’d be a pretty playboy.”

“Am I too ugly for you?” I smirk.

“God, no!” she breaths. I want to smile at her honest enthusiasm. She cools back off, controlling her tone, “You’re handsome.”

Her voice is like rough velvet, deep with a naturally sultry edge that feels effortless. She keeps a neutral, controlled facial expression. Not because she's nervous, just wired.

Like she’s made from instincts and scar tissue.

“Come in?”

She nods.

Mack leaves us, closing the door behind us, leaving us alone.

A long-buried emotion flickers in my core. Excitement.

She steps forward, leaving the coat behind. She moves carefully, as if she knows how to run if needed and has already checked the exits.

Smart.

She doesn’t ask questions. She doesn’t play coy. She just crosses her arms.

“You read my rules.”

“Oh yeah.” She eyes me. “I read your rules.”

“Good,” I say.

“And I have some feedback.”

For the first time on one of these nights, I’m speechless.

Her arms tighten around her as her voice goes all business. It’s fucking sexy.

“The no kissing one, I agree with completely,” she states. “But as for no panties, sorry, it’s too ungodly cold out for that.”

“If you read my rules, then you know my consequences.”

Ignoring my challenge, she holds her ground.

“As I said, I read your rules.” Her gaze is fire. “Now hear mine.”

Damn.

“One hour. No kissing, as previously stated. Condom, obviously. And I don’t do anything degrading or dangerous.”

“Define dangerous,” I say.

“If you’re into knife play, I walk.”

The retort slips out before I can stop it. “You’re in the wrong room if you think I need weapons to make you feel pain.”

Something shifts in her gaze. Not fear, but recognition. Then she looks away, a flush spreading across her cheeks.

“You’ve already earned a consequence.” I eye her thighs. “If you are, in fact, wearing panties under that sexy dress.”

“I’m sure you’re dying to see.”

Her words are calm, held together. But I see the uptick of her pulse, thrumming in that sweet curve of her neck, a spot I want to nip with my teeth, mark with my mouth.

A heatwave is crawling from my core and rising to my chest. Is she one of my kind? Does she like her pleasure doused with pain? I have to know. I need to find out.

And I only have one hour to do it.

“You follow my rules, I follow yours,” she replies calmly, arms still crossed, no drama no flirting. Just steel. “We both get what we need. Then, we never see each other again.”

She’s not broken.

She’s sacrificing.

And something deep inside me, long buried, responds to that. I should give her the money and send her away. Call it my good deed for the day. But I can’t. The woman—here to be under my control—has power over me.

I want her to stay.

“Take off your dress,” I say. “Let’s see what’s underneath.”

Her arms remain crossed over her chest. “You first.”

My lips twitch. “I’m not wearing a dress.”

“Haha,” she counters. “You know what I mean.”

I haven’t smiled genuinely on one of these nights. She’s charming me, though. Adorable even. Breaking down walls I thought were indestructible.

“This isn’t how it works,” I say.

“Maybe not for your typical kind of girl.”

Her accent surprises me. The city influence is there, but there’s something proper behind it. British, but she’s been here for a while.

“You think I’ve done this before?”

“You’re a regular,” she smirks. “One of their best customers.”

Heat prickles over the back of my neck. The agency is discreet. And so am I.

“How do you know that?” I narrow my gaze.

I can’t read the look that’s passing over her face. She shrugs and looks away. “A lucky guess.”

“You don’t come here to run the show. You read my profile so you should know my first rule. You come here to do what I tell you.”

“I read the profile,” she says. “And your list of rules. They made you sound like a real control freak.”

I hold back a chuckle. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“Interesting.” Her blue eyes challenge me as she says. "Still. You go first. Lose the shirt.”

She’s an anomaly. I should end it right now. Send her away. Call someone else. But I don’t.

Instead, I slowly unbutton the top button of my shirt, keeping my eyes fixed on hers.

“Safe word?” I unbutton another.

“I don’t need one. You try anything non-consensual, and I’ll rip your balls off.”

And for the first time in longer than I want to admit, this isn’t just another night. This woman isn’t a brief escape. She’s the kind of problem you can’t just walk away from. The kind that burns slow and dangerous but never goes to embers.

She holds my gaze as if she owns it, as if she’s already inside my mind, unraveling the tightly wound knots of control I’ve spent ten years perfecting.

My fingers move to the next button on my shirt. Deliberate. Measured. A provocation, not a courtesy.

A test.

I don’t usually test women. I command. They follow.

But her?

She makes me want to find the edges. To see how far I can push her before she breaks.

All while feeling I’m the one at risk.

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