They turned me into a beautiful woman, the kind any man would want to have on his arm. Then they handed me over to him.
Anything Mitchell Price wants in this life he can buy. He has a fortune so vast that it rivals whole countries. So when he decided he needed a companion on his arm he found that, for a man with as hard a heart as him, building his perfect woman was far easier than using his non-existent charm.
The illusion had to be perfect. I had to fit his every specification. I had to look the part, so he made me into her.
I was desperate, sure. The job might not pay but it was certainly a fair exchange. For a year I would give up my masculinity to be with him. I would play the part of a woman who loved him. For a year of my time I got to live like a princess, even if a princess is the last thing I ever imagined I would be.
And the world I find myself in is so charming. It is a life of private jets, of houses closer to castles than to the run-down apartments I have lived in up until now. I even liked all the extra things that came from being her, the beautiful dresses and the people who make me more beautiful and enchanting than I could possibly dream.
If it wasn’t for Mitchell Price, this might have been paradise.
The man is so cold, so hard, so unforgiving. No matter what I do it is clear that I am never enough for him. I can’t understand why he keeps me around because the man never even gives me the time of day. He barely even looks at me, but then he does and I know just why he made me into her.
The hunger. The desire. The craving for the woman he made and the woman I’m feeling more and more like with each passing day.
I know why Mitchell Price made me into her. I know what I need to do to satisfy him.
And I know that I won’t be satisfied myself until I let him have me: body and soul.
Excerpt
Billionaires are assholes and Mitchell Price just might be the worst of the lot.
The sound of a door opening behind me makes me start, makes me jump. I snap the folder shut as if I’d broken some rule but it was my folder, it was all about me. Still I stand and I turn and I slip it behind me and I come face to face with Mitchell Price for the first time.
Life is rarely fair, but it had been overly fair to him. He had the money and the power and the prestige, did he need to be tall and broad-shouldered and handsome as well?
The man looked like a fashion model, he looked like a goddamn superhero. He was fitting out every inch of the suit he was wearing and he wore it with the kind of casual comfort I’d never even been able to aspire to, let alone pull off.
Mitchell Price walked at a quick clip towards me and buttoned the top button of his suit jacket as he moved. His eyes fixed on me and he didn’t stop when he reached me, just circled around me as I followed him and then, when I was dizzy, I stopped and he kept going.
He paced around me, stopping every once in a while to take me in from every angle. Finally he stopped in front of me. I took in his fine cheekbones, his even cut of a mouth and his hard edge of a square jaw. I perused his perfectly flawless skin and the way that he seemed to have a perfect five o’clock shadow with every last hair cut to exacting length.
And I took in his eyes. His grey eyes which seemed to see so much. So much more than the surface that for an instant I forgot that this man represented everything that I hated and forgot the reasons he wanted me and instead I wondered whether he could see the real me beneath the surface like so many others had.
They say humor is a defense mechanism. Well, shields up.
He was peering at me and regarding me with the same kind of concern he might have had for a prize horse he was looking to buy so that seemed like as good a place as any.
“Want to check my teeth too?” I quipped, then when there was no reaction at all I tried for a less erudite example, “Maybe kick my tires?”
But he didn’t say a word. Instead his eyes drifted down and back up to me and I saw the way he looked at me and I remembered all those rumors, all those stories. I remembered the string of women on his arm, and I wondered if maybe he wasn’t looking for redemption but was instead looking to buy something he hadn’t been able to find on the market.
Single. Virgin. Never dated. Never been kissed.
Did he intend to change that?
I am a man, or at least I was. I was a man for so much of my life that it was still hard to think of myself as anything but that. A man. A heterosexual man. A man who was in no way interested in doing something with another man, doing anything with another man.
And I’d had a plan, when I started on this journey. I thought that I was going to play with the heartstrings of a billionaire who desperately wanted a pretty young thing on his arm. I thought that I was going to make him want me, make him ache for me, make him crave me enough that he’d open his wallet in some vain attempt to have me.
But all of those thoughts and all of those plans were based on a certain kind of man. Mitchell Price was not that kind of man.
Mitchell Price was the kind of man who had always gotten what he wanted. He would either buy it or he’d take it, but if he decided that he wanted it the only variable in question was how long it would take for him to possess it.
Mitchell Price was standing in front of me. Mitchell Price was appraising me. Mitchell Price had chosen me, for some purpose I didn’t know and didn’t understand, and the only piece of information I had was what he needed me to be.
Single. Virgin. Never dated. Never been kissed.
If he intended to change that, what could a sweet little thing like me do to deny him?