Trading for Love

Prologue

Charlotte POV

Sixteen Years Old

"Charlotte!" My mothers voice screeched down the hall causing me to drop the book I had been reading. It never failed that anytime she called for me it sounded like nails on a chalkboard, so shrill and high pitched. I picked up the book, slowly counting to five in my head before I heard the harsh click of her heels as she came down the hall. She had the patience of a toddler that had been promised candy.

Without even a knock, my bedroom door flew open, a tornado of pink flying in. Lillian Kessing, my dear mother, was the stereo typical CEO wife. Even though the only people at home were the hired help and the two of us, she was dressed like she was expecting to be called for high tea with the Queen at any moment. She wore a pale pink pencil skirt, matched with a pale pink blazer, and nude heels. Her chocolate brown hair was curled to perfection, the ringlets perfectly framing her face. Right now her perfectly made up face was a light with excitement.

" Charlotte! Stop sitting there gawking and get ready for dinner. Your father is bringing his new business partner over and you need to look your best," she squealed racing into my closet. I could hear her tsking at my clothes as she searched for what she deemed a proper outfit as I flopped back on my bed.

Andre Kessing is my father and owner/CEO of Kessing Property Management Co. He had started the business in his twenties and built it up to what it is today. His firm managed the majority of the high rise apartments in Kennsington as well as a good deal of the office buildings in the area. He had been looking to expand his firm and apparently he had found the man he wanted to work with. I knew it would be a man because Dad never took anything any woman said seriously. He'd brought a multitude of people home for dinner, each one having to do with work, and everytime Mom had the same reaction.

She would order the house cleaned within an inch of it's life, her kid primped and groomed to perfection, and for the cook to not show themselves so she could pretend she was some gourmet chef. Everything about these dinners was very orchestrated and only served to raise my fathers business standings in the community. To everyone else, we were the perfect family. In all truth we were far from it.

We were strangers living in the same house. I had been raised by nannies and tucked away except when I was needed to be paraded around a dinner or party. I was like the good China plates in the cabinet downstairs, only to be brought out on special occasions.

Lillian appeared in the door of my closet again, holding out a teal pants suit she had purchased over a year ago. I had refused to wear it then and by now it was more than likely to small considering I had gained a good twenty pounds since then.

" This will be perfect!" she squealed as she hauled me off my bed, holding the hanger in front of me. She pushed the hanger into my hands before sauntering back to the door, stopping short of leaving.

She looked back over her shoulder scrutinizing me for a moment before wrinkling her nose like she smelled something terrible.

" Be sure you put on some shape wear with that outfit. You've put on weight and I don't want your fathers business partner thinking we condone that kind of thing," she said waving her hand over her shoulder dismissively as she left.

Nothing new from Lillian. She spent two hours a day working out so she could keep up the appearance of trophy wife while I preferred the comfort of my jeans and t-shirts and reading. My extra weight had always been a thorn in her side since I was little. All the specialized diets, workout regimens, and calorie counting in the world didn't work with me but that never stopped her from making snide remarks about my weight. She had berated me to the point that I hated my own body enough, I didn't need her to add to it.

I turned catching sight of myself in the mirror. I was wearing a tattered pair of jeans and black t-shirt. They both fit reasonably well, no rolls visible around any of the fabric, my cellulite covered legs hidden away under the denim. That pants suit would show every fold and roll I had though, that was if the pants managed to withstand me being in them.

With a long sigh I turned to my closet, hoping without hope that there was a better option in there than an outfit I would bust the seams on.

****

I cussed under my breath as I attempted to smudge the crooked eyeliner off my eyelid. Nothing about this was going right. I had managed to pull on some shape wear, only for the pant suit to not make it past my thighs leaving me to dig through my closet for a suitable substitute. The only thing I came up with was a black sheath dress that fell about three inches below my butt thanks to the extra inches I had gained this past year. Magically I had found a cardigan that was slightly longer than the dress so I added it to my ensemble. I slipped on a pair of black wedge heels to complete the look and try to give it some elegance. My waist length auburn hair had been curled but the weight of it left the curls falling limp around me. Now in my vain attempt to put on some makeup, I had only succeeded in making myself look like a raccoon. Lillian would kill me if I went down to dinner looking like this.

I quickly scrubbed my face, removing any traces of my make-up mistakes before dabbing on the bare minimum of mascara to accentuate my emerald green eyes. I avoided looking to long in the mirror, knowing I would critique myself into oblivion given the oppurtunity.

" Charlotte, your fathers home," Lillians fake sing song voice carried from downstairs. It was a contradiction to her normal screech which meant there was most defiently a guest in the house.

With one final deep breath I plastered my best fake smile on my face before stepping out into the hall and heading down the steps into the livingroom.

Andre stood in front of the liquor cabinet, pouring whiskey from a crystal decenter into two glasses. His suit jacket was tossed across the back of the leather sectional that took up the middle of the room. I could tell by the way he was standing he was sucking in the gut he had slowly been gaining over the years. His black hair had gray scattered through it that matched his eyes which were alight with mirth as he laughed at something the man beside him was saying.

This man was different than all the others my father brought home. For starters, he was young where the others had been my fathers age. His brown hair was still all the same color and neatly combed. His brown eyes shown with the laughter he shared with Andre.

My heels clicked on the polished hardwood as I stepped into the livingroom, Andre turning to greet me. He stepped forward, pulling me in for a stiff, one arm hug before turning us toward his business partner. Up close the man was conventionally handsome but something about him felt off as he held out his hand to me.

"Anthony Perelli," he said as I clasped hands with him. His eyes ran up and down me, lingering on my chest and legs longer than I was comfortable with.

" Charlotte Kessing," I said giving his hand a quick shake before attempting to step away. He held fast to my hand, an unsettling smile forming on his lips.

"Andre, you never told me your daughter was so pretty." Andre cleared his throat, clearly at a loss for words. Pretty was not a word he had ever used to describe me. Frankly, I didn't like the way Anthony used it to describe me, it felt almost dirty.

"Well I-"

"Andre dear come here a moment," Lillian called from the other room. Andre quickly turned on his heal dashing off, thankful for the escape.

Once alone, Anthonys expression changed. Gone was the false pleasantries and smile, replaced with a leering smirk that felt like I was being undressed with his eyes. My stomach churned as I quickly stepped back from him, needing to be out of his arms reach.

" Don't worry Charlotte, I'll wait till your legal," he chuckled before continuing "Once you are though, I'll be here, to claim what's mine," he chuckled as he chucked me under the chin. A shiver ran down my spine, a sinking feeling forming in my stomach as he by passed me, following the path Andre had taken only a moment ago. A wave of nausea passed over me so strong I could taste the bile rising in my throat. That man was no man at all. He was a predator, and I had just become his prey.