Virgin Dot Com Novel

[Jasmine's POV] The tension hit me before the door to Asher's penthouse fully opened. Something was wrong. The air felt charged with the kind of electricity that precedes lightning strikes and catastrophic conversations. All three of them were already there. Sitting in the living room with faces that looked like they'd been to war and lost. Finn wasn't making jokes. Asher wouldn't meet my eyes. Liam looked physically ill, skin pale under the expensive lighting. "What happened?" My voice came out shaky despite my attempt at control.

"Did someone die?" The question hung in the air, and the way they looked at each other made my stomach drop. Something had died. Maybe not a person. Maybe something worse. Liam gestured to the couch. "Sit down." I sat, and the leather felt too cold against my legs. Everything felt too cold suddenly. "Our father is back to business." Liam's words were careful. Measured. Like he was defusing a bomb with his voice. Jackson Blackwood. I knew almost nothing about him except what I'd gleaned from office gossip and the brothers' conversations.

"He wants to save the company," Liam continued, and I heard the strain in his voice. The effort it took to say the words out loud. "He has a plan. Connections. He can bring back the artists, restore reputation, stabilize everything." Relief should have flooded through me. This was good news. Salvation. The answer to the crisis I'd helped create by existing and wanting and choosing them. "That's good, right?" I tried to find the logic in their funeral expressions. "That's what we need." Asher finally looked at me, and what I saw in his eyes made my blood run cold. Not relief. Not gratitude.

Horror. Rage. Something that looked like grief for something that hadn't died yet but was already mourned. "There's a condition," he said, and his voice was so controlled it meant he was barely holding himself together. Finn stood abruptly. Started pacing like staying still would make him explode. "He wants proof. That you're worth the chaos you've caused." The words landed like blows. Worth the chaos. Like I was merchandise requiring quality assessment. Like everything we'd built together could be quantified and measured against market value.

"What kind of proof?" The room was getting smaller. Walls closing in. Liam took a breath that looked painful. "He wants you to work for him. Directly. Prove your value as a professional." I nodded slowly, trying to find solid ground in the conversation. "Okay. I can do that. I'm good at my job." The words felt hollow but true. I was good at what I did. I could prove that. "That's not all." Asher's voice was ice over volcanic rage. "He also wants personal proof." The silence that followed was physical. Oppressive. I felt it pressing against my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Then understanding crashed over me like cold water. Like being submerged in something toxic and unable to surface. "He wants me." Not a question. A statement of fact so horrible my brain initially rejected it. "Sexually. He wants me to fuck him." I couldn't finish the sentence properly. Couldn't make my mouth form the words that would make it real. "He said he wants to understand what fascinated his sons so much." Liam's voice broke with disgust. "That if you're really so special, you'll prove it to him too. In bed." The nausea hit immediately. Bile rising in my throat. Their father.

A man I'd never met. A man who'd touched my thigh this afternoon like I was property requiring inspection. Who'd looked at his sons' lover and seen leverage, opportunity, and entertainment. He wanted to fuck me as the price of saving their mother's company. The psychological violence of it was breathtaking. Using their dead mother's legacy to manipulate them into offering me to him like tribute. Like I was currency. Like my body was negotiable if the price was high enough. "What if I refuse?" My voice came out steady despite the screaming in my head. Finn was in front of me instantly.

Dropping to his knees. Taking my hands in his with a desperation that made my chest ache. "Then we refuse. All three of us. We've already decided this is insane. We won't let him-" "We have a week to decide," Asher interrupted, and I heard the clinical detachment he used when emotions threatened to overwhelm him. "The company operates under his oversight until then. He wants an answer by next Monday." Liam added quietly, and this might have been the worst part, "We're not asking you to agree. We would never ask you to do this. We just... we had to tell you." I looked at the three men I loved.

Saw the protective rage in Asher's eyes. The desperation bleeding through Liam's careful control. The heartbreak in every line of Finn's body as he knelt in front of me like he was begging forgiveness for something that wasn't his fault. They didn't want this. They hated even having to tell me. They'd probably fought about whether to tell me at all. Whether I deserved to know that their father saw me as a whore worth testing. "He called me a whore, didn't he?" I asked quietly. "This afternoon. When you met with him." Their faces gave me the answer.

The confirmation that Jackson Blackwood had looked at what we'd built together and reduced it to crude transaction. Sex for security. Pussy for position. And now he wanted proof I was worth it. Wanted to fuck his sons' girlfriend to demonstrate his power over them. Over me. Over everything we'd tried to build outside his control. "And now he wants to prove I'm a whore worth keeping." The words tasted like poison on my tongue. I stood on legs that felt like they might give out. "I need to think." "Jasmine-" Liam started, reaching for me. I shook my head.

Pulled back before he could touch me because if he touched me I'd break. I'd shatter into pieces I didn't know how to put back together. "Just give me tonight. I'll call you tomorrow." I left before any of them could stop me. Before they could see the tears already starting. Before I had to acknowledge out loud that we were in a situation with no good answers. The elevator doors closed, and I was alone with my reflection and the horror of what had just been proposed. Their father wanted to fuck me. Wanted me to spread my legs and prove I was worth the trouble I'd caused.

Wanted to use my body to demonstrate his dominance over his sons. To prove that everything they loved could still be controlled by him if he wanted it badly enough. And the worst part was the calculation already starting in my head. The terrible math of weighing my dignity against their mother's legacy. My autonomy against the company that employed hundreds of people. My self-respect against the future we'd been trying to build. The fact that I was even considering it made me want to vomit. The elevator descended, and with each floor the nausea got worse. Pressure building in my stomach.

Bile rising. By the time the doors opened to the lobby, I was running. Barely made it outside before my stomach rebelled. I bent over the nearest trash can and vomited, body heaving with the force of it. Stress, I told myself. Disgust at what had been proposed. Horror at the choice being forced on me. But deep in my gut, below the nausea and revulsion, something whispered that this was different. That this wasn't just psychological response to trauma. That this was something else entirely. Something that would change everything.

Something that made this impossible situation even more impossible. I wiped my mouth with shaking hands and stood there on the sidewalk, and for the first time in my life, I understood what it meant to be truly trapped. Between loving three men and being demanded by their father. Between saving a company and selling myself. Between protecting what we'd built and destroying it by the very act of trying to preserve it. Virgin Dot Com