“Go to hell!”

Sebastian could have ducked the glass of wine heading his way, but it seemed even more undignified than taking a merlot to the face. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision, then used his napkin to wipe his skin while his latest ex-paramour stormed out of the restaurant. Despite his outrage over being dumped, the man had managed to snatch up the Patek Philippe watch Sebastian had given him as a break-up present as he’d left. That was a relief because an expensive parting gift was the one thing that helped him through the difficult, yet inevitable, ending of a relationship. He did try to warn them that he wasn’t looking for a permanent coupling. Somehow they never believed him, always sure they would be different than those that had come before them. Part of him hoped each time that he would be wrong, that this time he’d find a man to partner with for the rest of their lives. Reality kept intruding on that fond wish, however. He simply couldn’t make himself love someone merely to tick that getting-married box in his life in order to please his parents and even Christ, the whole of society. Only children of old, wealthy families were supposed to carry on with the next generation.

He gave the anxious maître d’ hovering nearby an easy smile. “I’ll take the check, please.” With that, he ignored the staring of the restaurant’s other patrons and finished his own glass of wine. Sadly, his chocolate souffle was a complete loss. He really should wait until dessert was over before issuing his boyfriends their walking papers. Not to mention that he should pick somewhere other than his favorite restaurant to do the deed.

Sebastian tossed down his black card to pay for his own public rebuke, then walked out to the parking valet without a bit of self-consciousness. One of the benefits of being an Endicott was that he’d been raised to believe he was socially untouchable. Sure, there would be pictures and gossip about the scene up on the internet already. He made news—both in business and in his private life. None of it mattered to him. He had no social media presence himself. The idea of putting one’s daily life on display was too vulgar for words. In that, he and his parents agreed. Still, he knew they would find out and he’d be subjected to quiet disappointment at the family’s Sunday brunch.

Can’t be helped.

The valet didn’t have to be told to bring Sebastian’s Aston Martin around. This was one of his favorite haunts for a quiet and exquisite meal. He slipped the man a hundred dollars because being generous with others in the lower economic classes was easy to do. And he was acutely aware of how much his fortune had grown in the last few years as the vast majority of others had decreased. The world had never been fair and even after progress had been made in making people’s lives better, it somehow had gotten worse again. He was lucky to come from multigenerational wealth. The least he could do was help where he could.

The Boston spring night was brisk and refreshing, notwithstanding his wet clothing. He lowered his window for a few moments to take in the air before sealing himself back up in the luxury of his car. Traffic was still heavy in the early evening hours, so his tremendous horsepower was wasted as he inched his way back to his home in Louisburg Square. To pass the time, he spoke to his phone.

“Call Milo.”

His friend picked up on the third ring. “What kind of wine did he throw in your face?”

Sebastian smiled at his old friend’s greeting, made with that slow, southern drawl a Harvard education and subsequent years living in Boston hadn’t whipped out of him. “Merlot.”

“Damn, son. You can kiss that jacket and shirt goodbye. When are you going to learn to do break-ups by text?”

“That would be exceedingly rude and cowardly. And I have lots of clothes. I can afford to lose a few.” He had, too. Somehow the idea of breaking up with his lovers in a public setting had become a habit. It rarely led to a gentle uncoupling. There was always some kind of drama to deal with, angry words sometimes following a bit of pleading was to be expected, although the wine-tossing was relatively rare. “Anyway, it’s done.” He sighed. “I think I’m getting worse at relationships, not better.”

“That’s because you have a terrible work-life balance. Endicott Global isn’t going to go under if you work less than ninety hours a week, you know. Prioritize having a family life like I have.”

Sebastian pictured his highly successful friend with a wife and one point five children. No, more like one point seven given that Daphne was due in a couple of months. It was impressive how the man juggled it all, even with a legion of servants to help out. Sebastian was good at multitasking, so the level of difficulty wasn’t what held him back. He just couldn’t quite see himself being domesticated. The truth was, none of the men he’d been involved with ever had inspired him to forge a family. That was true of both the men he’d picked out himself and the ones his mother had engineered to cross his path. “Now you sound like my mother. She acts like my unmarried state is an affront to my storied family and as if taking a husband is like choosing a portfolio—pick one that looks like it will yield the best results. Anyway, I like working. It yields tangible results, which feeds my insatiable ego. And I’m terribly selfish, as you know.”

Milo sighed heavily over the phone. “What I know is that you like to fuck strings-free. Honestly, I don’t know why you bother going the boyfriend route at all. You suck at relationships, too, always using money to build and keep that connection. It’s doomed to fail. Affection and loyalty are things you give and receive freely, not pay for. You can’t build a family like you do a company.”

That idea made him laugh. “Have you met my parents?” As far as he could tell over the thirty-three years he’d been alive, James and Gloria Howard Endicott’s entire marriage was based on carefully negotiated business terms with no emotional intimacy.

“Yes, I have, and how do we feel about their relationship?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. Milo had gotten that couple’s number the first time he’d visited from college. Being a self-made man raised in one of the shrinking number of middle-class families in the country, he’d been unimpressed with how wealth and status had overtaken true love and devotion. Sebastian hadn’t needed to be told what his family was like, but he didn’t have any illusions that he would lead a more noble life.

“They’re no one to emulate, I agree. That’s why I don’t lead anyone on to believe there is a future with me. I will not replicate their commercial transaction. All I want is companionship and sex on my terms. Is that too much to expect?” Even as he asked the mostly rhetorical question, he knew he couldn’t have what he wanted.

Milo blew out a breath. “You know what you’re really asking for, right? A slave.”

Sebastian barked out a laugh as he pulled into his privately owned parking spot in front of his home. This kind of convenience in this part of Boston screamed out his privilege as few things did. “No, I’m not.” Well, maybe. He frowned, put his car into park and simply sat, thinking about it.

Even ten years ago, the idea of buying another human being for services would have been both appalling and illegal. Times had changed. With such a large portion of the population drowning in debt, creative solutions had been implemented. Indentured servitude had once more become a means of working off money problems. He knew quite a few people who had taken advantage of the new source of labor because it was cheaper in the long run than hiring employees. The laws governing employment were protective, far more so than the few encoded into the indenture laws. While he didn’t know for sure, he imagined abuse was rampant because human beings sucked and did terrible things to each other no matter the rules.

I’m not like that.

“Seb? I can hear the wheels turning in your head. Tell me you are not thinking of buying a sex slave.”

Sebastian winced. “It wouldn’t be that, exactly.”

“Are you fucking serious? You’re thinking of buying someone to be your toy in and out of bed so you don’t have to deal with messy emotions and obligations. What would you call that?”

Sebastian lay his head back on the plush seat of his car. He was living with unparalleled opulence. Would it be so bad to bring someone into this type of life for a short while? After all, sex was a sporadic activity. The person he acquired could spend their downtime however they liked. Sebastian had the means to shower them with clothing and presents to occupy their time. His home was like an adult amusement park, too. There was no luxury he hadn’t obtained for himself and he was always happy to share with others. Wouldn’t that be a fair trade off? “I’d be good to him and make sure he left me better off financially than he’d come to me.”

“Oh sure, you’ll give him a watch, and that makes it all better?”

“Well, I was thinking more like a condo and a car.”

“Fuck, man! You must know how I feel about this.”

He hadn’t really considered that, actually. The whole idea of buying an indentured servant had only just popped into his head. Of course, Milo would be against the notion. Unlike the Endicotts and most other Americans, Milo’s African ancestors had been kidnapped and enslaved for generations.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Of course I understand how you feel. I’m a selfish prick, as you know.”

“I can’t agree on that assessment. You gave me my first seed capital for a crazy idea that no one else would take a risk on. You did that out of friendship, and it allowed me to become a rich man. But I can’t pretend that what you’re proposing to do is okay with me. I can’t believe I was the one to put the idea in your head.” Milo grunted over the phone.

Sebastian turned off his car and left it, continuing the call with the phone to his ear. “I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize our friendship.”

“And you’re my boy, so I’m not going to kill a fifteen-year-old relationship over this, either. I don’t like it, but if you go through with this, I don’t want you bringing the guy around my place. My kid shouldn’t think owning another person even temporarily is acceptable, and Daphne would blow a gasket. She doesn’t need strain in her condition.”

Sebastian let himself into his spacious home that was really too big for how little time he spent in it. “Of course not. I would never do something to cause your family distress. He wouldn’t be my boyfriend, after all. There’ll be no need for me to have him socialize. I haven’t decided anything anyway. It’s simply an idea I’m kicking around in my tired brain. Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you and I would have thought of it on my own. There’s no need to kick yourself over putting the idea in my head.”

“It’s all good. You didn’t. I just hope you’ll be happy someday the way I am.”

“You hopeless romantic.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Catch you later.”

As Sebastian hung up, his majordomo came out from his quarters, dressed for a quiet evening off.

“Do you require anything, sir?”

“No, thank you, Beasley. I’m turning in early.” He started upstairs.

“I see we’ve lost another shirt and jacket. The pants will have to go, too, given that you chose to wear a suit.”

Sebastian waved the comment away. “It’s of no concern, as you know. I can afford to lose some clothing.”

“I hope you at least made it through dessert this time.”

Beasley’s muttered observation made Sebastian smile. The man had been with him since graduation. He tried to imagine what it would be like if he’d bought an indentured servant to tend to his home and personal grooming. It wouldn’t be the same. Beasley was respectful, but also put Sebastian in his place when necessary. There was an easy banter between them. Someone he owned wouldn’t act like that. They’d be too afraid. How much more cowed would an indentured servant purchased purely for sex be? Such a boy would be purely passive, he expected, a thing for him to play with more than a lover.

As he entered his personal suite of rooms, he spoke firmly to himself. “No, I’m not going to acquire a living sex doll. That’s not who I am.”

Yet, once he was settled into his bed for the night, he couldn’t help turning on his tablet. It wasn’t hard to find a brokerage agency that dealt in debt slaves. The businesses had popped up even before the law had passed Congress. Now, the Commonwealth licensed the profession, so there was some regulation to ensure legitimate listings and sales were made. There were plenty of high-end agencies catering to the ultra-wealthy, too, naturally.

He picked one located in the Back Bay. Just looking. That’s what he told himself…until he opened the page for what was termed ‘intimacy servants’. Here were young, exquisite people who for one reason or another were willing to sell themselves for various periods of time. There were multiple pictures of each one, naked and clothed, as well as a list of their skills. They were all offering themselves for sex, but they had talents out of bed that might appeal to some. There was even a subcategory of those agreeing to whatever kink a master or mistress might have. That got him hard instantly, because he did like to take control in bed and a bit of light bondage and discipline had always appealed to him. It was hard finding the right guy who both attracted him and was into the same thing.

Here were many—too many, rather sadly—who were agreeing to go along with any kink regardless of what they preferred themselves. While he loved mastering someone in bed, how much enjoyment could he have knowing that his partner was only doing what he wanted because he had to, out of desperation to clear a debt too large to pay off any other way? No. Just no. The whole idea was too appalling for words. This was not who he was. He might not have time for charitable work, but he did give generously to various foundations to help the needy. He was on everyone’s ‘high-roller’ list of benefactors to hit up with donations. How could he square that willingness to help ease the life of others with the idea of buying another human being?

It was a waste of time to even look into this unseemly option just so he could have someone in his bed. He’d take his dick in his hand, get himself off and go to sleep. That was what he told himself, except he swiped to the next page and stared open-mouthed at the perfect boy. Slender, with blond hair that flopped a bit in his big, bright, blue eyes. His lips were formed into a pouty bow that begged to be breached by a man’s cock. A smooth chest led to an uncut dick the right size for Sebastian’s mouth. And the rear-view image showed a high, tight ass. The mere sight of it nearly made Sebastian come. He knew in that instant that he didn’t have as much self-control as he’d always believed.

“Oh, pretty Parker. How can I resist you?”

The simple answer was that he couldn’t. He emailed the listing agent immediately, not even blinking at the very high price set for the boy. Sebastian could afford anything he wanted. At that moment, he desired nothing more than getting Parker Jameson into his bed.