The Billionaire's Demands

Strong hands clamped around Ava's upper arms, steadying her against the muscular torso she'd collided into. Her senses were instantly assaulted by the intoxicating aroma of crisp, masculine cologne mingling with warm, suntanned skin.

She found herself staring up into a chiseled face framed by tousled golden-brown locks. The man's jawline could have been hewn from granite, his full lips twisted in a bemused smirk.

"You must be the new missus," he rumbled in a voice like velvet scotch. "Though neither Jackson nor I were expecting such an...ahem, informal greeting so early in the morning."

Ava jolted backward, nearly tripping over her ridiculous stripper heels in her haste to escape the handsome stranger's viselike grasp.

"I-I'm so sorry, I was just leaving and—"

That's when she noticed the expensive-looking suit and tie the man wore. And the gleaming silver streaks in his tousled hair. Definitely not an overnight guest.

Ava's gaze flicked over his broad shoulder, where the sprawling grounds of a vast, lush estate sprawled out before her. Stone fountains and hedgerow gardens surrounded an ornate driveway loop big enough to land a jet on. At its end sat an imposing wrought-iron gate flanked by brick walls overgrown with ivy.

She'd been so desperate to escape her new husband and his absurd mansion that she'd failed to consider the security nightmare involved in an actual jailbreak.

"I believe you're looking for the exit, my dear," the man cut into her thoughts with a twinkle in his eye. He swiveled and gestured to the circular driveway. "My apologies, you seem to have gotten a bit...turned around inside. Shall I summon a cab for you?"

There it was again - that infuriating yet charming assumption that she was just some random bimbo Jackson had smuggled into his palatial estate for a night of fun. But no matter what her situation was, there was no way in hell she was leaving through the front entrance like some cheap booty call.

"Actually, do me a favor and tell Jackson he needs to get off his tight ass and see me out the back way," Ava shot back, gritting her teeth. "Tell him his new wife has errands to run in town, and won't be disrespected like some sleazy Vegas hookup he can kick to the curb after the main event."

The man arched one silver brow. "Ah, I see the pup hasn't informed you about certain...upgrades to your relationship status." His assessing gaze roamed over her disheveled appearance without even a hint of judgment. "No matter, it seems you two have much to discuss. Say no more, Mrs. Reynolds - I'll ensure he comes to retrieve you promptly."

With a wry smile, the dapper gentleman turned on his heel and strode down the driveway toward what looked like a secondary staff residence on the estate grounds.

Fuming, Ava watched him go. Obviously this smug codger wasn't bright enough to spot her escape attempt for what it was, or take her seriously as Jackson's "wife." Though she still wasn't sure if that title was mere delusion on the billionaire jerk's part or some inconvenient legal truth.

All she knew was the pristine morning sunshine filling that vast, open driveway would have been the perfect opportunity to make a clean break for it. She couldn't risk being swarmed by security goons or worse - coming face to face with Jackson again. Not until she had her bearings and an exit strategy planned.

With a resigned sigh, Ava retreated back inside the chilly, cavernous house. She'd deal with the arrogant billionaire on her own terms and timing this time. Not as some flighty, scantily-clad fling from whom he could demand his twisted desires.

Back in the grand receiving room where the double staircase towered, Ava plopped her butt down on the velvet cushion of a high-backed settee. She'd simply wait right here for Jackson to strut his rippling, naked ass out and confront her like the entitled prick he was.

And then she was going to read him the riot act, loud and clear. If he truly thought Vegas vows gave him unlimited access to her body and obedience, he had another thing coming. There would be no consummating anything between them until—

"So you're the little wildcat who tamed my boy's heart at last."

Ava startled at the unexpected feminine voice drifting from the shadows near the massive fireplace hearth. She peered closer, and a statuesque, impeccably dressed woman emerged like a hardened panther from the dimness. Her angular, aristocratic features looked as if they'd been carved from fine marble - appearing both exquisite and slightly menacing at once.

"W-who are you?" Ava demanded, shrinking back against the luxurious divan.

"Don't be coy, my dear. I realize we weren't properly introduced last night at your...quaint little chapel, shall we say?"

The woman slinked closer, her musky floral perfume wreathing Ava as she sat perfectly poised on the opposite end of the settee.

"I'm Vivienne Reynolds," she purred, pinning Ava with a look of razor-sharp feminine intensity. "Jackson's mother. And you...well, you're the last filly this ranch daddy expected his stallion to lasso."

Ava blinked, struggling to process the verbal onslaught. Surely she'd misheard this woman claiming to be Jackson's own flesh and blood? There were few conceivable scenarios more alarming than being ambushed by her absurdly wealthy new mother-in-law fresh off a drunken Vegas mistake.

"Wait...so you actually know about me and Jackson...?"

Vivienne fixed her with an inscrutable look. "Of course I'm aware. Why else would I be inviting his new bride here to Estancia Vista at this ungodly hour?"

The implications rattled Ava to her core. So this massive estate did belong to Jackson's family rather than just the billionaire himself? And rather than dismissing their sham marriage, Vivienne seemed to have fully embraced it.

Which begged a terrifying question - just how committed was Jackson to keeping Ava bound to him? Enough to flaunt their sordid mistake before his high society parents?

As if reading her trepidation, Vivienne smiled thinly. "I imagine you're feeling quite overwhelmed right about now. Another sheltered little sparrow gulped down whole by my son's great big world."

She edged closer, till her piercing hazel eyes bored straight through Ava. "But make no mistake, all this - the trappings, the titles, my son himself - is no fantasy. This is the life you so rashly bargained for when you sold your future to Jackson Reynolds."

Vivienne's elegant hand captured Ava's bare fingers, giving them a motherly squeeze. "Best get used to it quickly if you hope to survive the rules of our family's stratosphere."

Ava stiffened, recoiling from the woman's presumptuous touch. She opened her mouth to spit furious protests about the ludicrous terms of her so-called "bargained future." About how she was a normal, minimum wage single mom who'd never set foot on a horse ranch in her life, let alone entertained marrying into one of America's richest dynasties.

But before she could speak, three sharp raps sounded on the room's threshold. Ava glanced up to see the dapper butler silhouetted in the arched entrance.

"Pardon me, Mrs. Reynolds. Mr. Jackson has requested your presence in the west drawing room at once." His clipped tone brooked no defiance.

Ava's pulse hammered, frantically weighing her options here. Let Jackson's officious butler drag her before the arrogant billionaire on his terms? Or seize control of this runaway train while she still could?

One look at the woman's imperious stare settled her resolve. There was no way in hell she was letting Jackson's snooty mother dictate the terms of their "marriage."

Rising, Ava smoothed the flimsy skirt of her cocktail dress and summoned every ounce of dignity. If Jackson expected kow-towed submission from his new "wife," he had another thing coming.

"You can tell Jackson I'll be speaking to him shortly," Ava announced in a tone as regal as her ratty appearance could

Here's the continuation of Episode 2 - The Billionaire's Demands, keeping the language very simple and the pace fast with cliffhangers:

Ava held up a hand, cutting off the butler's protest. "But not before I've had a chance to make myself presentable first. I won't be parading in front of Jackson like some drunken floozy fresh off the Strip."

She leveled a pointed look at Vivienne. "I'm sure you can appreciate the importance of proper etiquette when addressing one's new husband, Mrs. Reynolds."

The older woman's expression soured briefly before smoothing into an inscrutable mask. "Of course, my dear. Marcus will show you to a guest suite where you can freshen up at your leisure."

She waved a languid hand toward the butler. "Do send Jackson my apologies for the delay. We certainly wouldn't want to start this marriage off on the wrong foot with ill manners."

Ava bristled at the thinly-veiled condescension in Vivienne's tone. But she kept her chin high as the butler - Marcus - gestured for her to follow him up the curved main staircase.

With as much poise as her throbbing head could muster, Ava swept past Jackson's imposing mother. She wasn't going to be bullied and scrutinized by these hoity-toity people, no matter how grossly wealthy they were. Keeping her pride was the only way she'd survive being thrown into their glittering shark tank.

Marcus led her down a maze of hallways adorned with antique vases, gilded mirrors, and oil paintings of stern-faced men in military garb. Clearly Jackson's family had old money flowing through its veins.

Finally, they reached an arched oak door which the butler opened with a diffident sweep of his arm.

"These will be your accommodations for now, Mrs. Reynolds. I've instructed a maid to bring you proper attire, though I'm afraid we have no undergarments in your...precise measurements on hand."

His eyes politely raked over her skimpy dress in a way that made Ava's cheeks burn.

"That will be all," she dismissed him curtly, ducking into the lavishly-appointed guest room. At least here she could collect herself away from prying eyes.

Once alone, Ava took in her plush surroundings with a weary sigh. A towering four-post bed dominated the space, with heavy velvet drapes and antique mahogany furnishings. Out the broad windows, the estate's lush grounds and mossy fountains could be glimpsed through manicured treetops.

This whole scenario still felt like a bizarre dream. Just hours ago she'd been working a graveyard shift at the Denny's off the Strip, hoping to scrape together enough tips for Matty's new school clothes. How had one night of drunken stupidity transported her into this opulent, alien world of tycoon mansions and families?

She shook her head to clear the disorienting fog. First, she needed to make herself look as dignified as possible before facing that arrogant billionaire jackass Jackson again.

After locating the attached bathroom, Ava quickly stripped off her rumpled cocktail dress and stepped into a steaming shower. As the pounding water sluiced away her hangover funk, she tried to rehearse the scathing speech she'd unleash the minute she saw Jackson's smug, chiseled face again.

But despite her best efforts, Ava's thoughts kept slipping back to the positively indecent outline of his naked body beneath that flimsy robe. Those ripped, tanned abs tapering down to his deeply etched Adonis belt and powerful thighs...

She shut off the water with a frustrated groan. There was no denying Jackson Reynolds was the most stunningly gorgeous male specimen she'd ever laid eyes on. A gut-punch of pure masculinity, wealth, and virile physical perfection.

Yet his arrogance and naked attempts to dominate her made Ava's blood boil just as hotly as that glimpse of his glistening physique. How dare he sneer at her desperation to escape his lascivious clutches, as if she were property to be chastised? Just because some ditzy part of her subconscious had mistakenly wed the billionaire didn't give him license to sleep with or control her.

As Ava toweled off, she noticed a fluffy white robe and matching slippers had appeared on the sumptuous bed, along with a beige day dress suitable for the country club set. She slipped into the robe, already dreading having to garb herself in the snooty outfit despite her empty stomach's grumbling.

Looking marginally more presentable, Ava strode to the bedroom door and flung it open before her courage could falter...

...only to nearly slam headlong into the unyielding male torso looming inches beyond.

"Well, if it isn't my radiant new bride," Jackson's deep, sonorous voice rumbled with amusement. "I'd ask how your morning is going, but I can already smell your sweet floral body wash from here."

He leaned in, giving her a deliberate onceover that made Ava's nipples tighten beneath the plush robe. "And might I say, that innocent cream color makes your cheeks look utterly delicious when you blush."

Ava's mouth went dry as she craned her neck back, finding herself nearly chest-to-chest with the billionaire's hulking frame. His smoldering dark eyes bored into hers with undisguised desire scorching in their depths.

"Y-you have some nerve, barging in here while I'm barely dressed—" she managed.

"This is my home, wife." He cut her off, crowding her personal space in a way that made the guest room's boundaries shrink alarmingly. "I'll go wherever I please. And have whatever...or whomever...I desire."

His heated stare lingered on the plunging V of her robe's neckline. Suddenly Ava was hypersensitive to the way the terrycloth parted over her breasts, leaving her cleavage all too visible to her new husband's carnal perusal.

She sucked in a sharp breath, furious and bewildered by the arousal prickling through her at Jackson's proximity. This level of palpable alpha dominance shouldn't inflame her like this. Revolted by his imperious objectification of her, yes. But turned on?

Never.

Still, her body had other ideas as Jackson advanced another audacious step. She instinctively pressed her back to the door frame, trapping herself even as her brain commanded the opposite.

"If you think I'm just going to be another one of your eager little playthings you can—"

"This is no game, Ava."

Jackson's oiled baritone sliced through her bravado effortlessly. In a beat, his aggressive expression melted from undisguised lust into something far more menacing.

"Our marriage may have been an impulsive mistake, but it's legally binding all the same. And no matter how messy our...unconventional circumstances last night may have been, that doesn't change the terms I spelled out for you."

His tongue traced his full lower lip in a way that made Ava shiver despite herself. "You agreed to be my wife - in every sense of the word. Which means you'll submit to my authority...and my body."

His warm breath caressed her cheek, making her dizzy with his cologne's dark, virile essence.

"That smart mouth of yours spewed some deliriously hot vows about clawing my back to shreds while I pounded you into the mattress. Ring any bells, wifey?"

A rough finger trailed up Ava's inner thigh beneath her robe's hem. She froze, too stunned to break the heated spell of his dominance.

"It may have been drunken lunacy for you to agree to be possessed by a billionaire like me," he breathed against the hollow of her throat. "But those vows were no drunken joke for me. I always keep my all-in commitments...no matter how filthy they may be."

His finger inched higher, searing her flesh with the promise of dark, ravenous lust. Ava's pulse thundered in her ears, her starved body betraying her with its visceral surrender.

She needed to wrench free of this twisted animal magnetism before it consumed her entirely. But he was like a UV blast of masculinity searing away her willpower...

His mouth only a hairsbreadth from hers now, Ava rasped out one last plea.

"Don't do this. Please...you're not who I thought—"

His response was to seal their mouths together with searing, unbridled hunger. Fierce as a man laying claim