Wager Island Novels & Stories

She slid into his arms and he leaned over her, his face inches away from hers. "Yeah?" "Shut up and kiss me." He did. The staff lined the pier to wave goodbye as Mark, Myra, Maddy, their friends, and Jasmine and her colleagues left the Island. Captain Wales and his crew took them smoothly over the water towards Guadeloupe, and when they arrived a small fleet of vehicles waited to take them to the Airport.

Under the terms of the wager agreement, those returns did not count toward sales volume. In other words, White Cosmos No. 1 had already overtaken Cosmos No. 2, not by 50%, but completely. "We can't lose the wager!" Veins stood out on Elijah's forehead. "Cosmos No. 2 is finished. We've been completely screwed. But we cannot lose the wager. If we take White Cosmos No. 1, we can still come out ahead." Benjamin reacted at once. "You mean fake the sales?" "That's the only way," Elijah said coldly.

Joker asked. “The Island is a place that houses several facilities. There’s Pink Velvet, which is a basic whore house and training facility. Then there is the Pleasure Palace where women who aren’t bought at auction after three tries go. They’re there to service elite members and provide them with children from good stock and then there’s Dark Desires. Dark Desires is for people like me who won’t submit. I can’t even begin to describe the things that happen there. All I can say is that there have been three people who have died while living in the facility.” She said, sighing.

Wade demanded to know. Archer once again tore his gaze from mine. “I don’t owe you any reasons why I came. She’s mine I want her now end of story,” “She’s fourteen, you sick bastard let her stay with me until she turns eighteen,” Wade grits through clenched teeth. “You live on Isla Martago?” Wade nods. “Yes, and you can pick her up from there,” Archer raises his brow. “My name is Archer, Isla Martago.” Wade's eyes go wide.

My eyes looked around at the other bitches in the room; the one I was fucking when Paige caught me was now on the carpeted floor, tired and sleeping. I returned my gaze to Bitch No. 5. She is one of the new whores on the island, another European bitch recruited by Chase, and I'm already impressed. Chase has constantly been giving us new high-class whores and not just any cheap prostitutes. Chase's optimism to look for sluts to work for him is suitable to a fault that all sexual desires of our associates and guests hiding here in Agrianthropos City were satisfied by the so-called Chase's angels. The island offers not only pussies but also casinos, clubs, resorts, beaches, and other things...

He kept that devilish grin on his face the entire time. I needed to think of something quick. When we get to... That was when I realized I had no idea where we were going. "Where are we going?" I asked immediately. He looked up with that annoying smile again. I could clearly see it on his face. You are so stupid to get on a plane before knowing where you are going. "Isle de la Guerra." He stated as though I should know where that bloody place is. I furrowed my brow. He looked at me and sighed. "It's a private island near Hawaii that I bought a few months ago." He stated then went back to his laptop...

The weight of his stupidity finally hit him. The dealer cleared the table. A few of the other men mumbled and stood to leave. But I just stood there, frozen. What on earth just happened? I looked at Derek who also looked as shocked as I felt - had was just gazing at the table, sweat dripping down his folded forehead Was he just realising what he just did? Was he realising finally that he just wagered his wife like some damn property off to a stranger? A sharp pain twisted my heart, making it almost difficult to breathe.

Had to blink hard to make the words come into focus. "Agreement of Wager" was printed across the top in formal script. Below that, five signatures. Carter Vaughn, Marcus Webb, Brandon Pierce, James Caldwell, Derek Morrison. The date was three years and three months ago, two weeks before Carter had proposed to me. I read the terms slowly, my brain refusing to process what I was seeing. Each participant agreed to marry a woman rated nine or above on a standardized attractiveness scale within six months of signing. The marriage had to last three years minimum. The first to reach the three-year mark would win fifty million dollars, ten million contributed by each participant. There were clauses

I trailed off, briefly wondering if the check would still be safe if I’d left it in my bra instead of moving it to my purse when I boarded the final flight that was bound for New York City. “I’m intimately involved with “The Island,” Anya. I’m one of the main investors, and you wouldn’t believe what a chuckle I got seeing your name on the roster of competitors for the weekend.” His beady eyes focused on me, and he licked his lips in a hungry fashion. “I quite enjoyed your show, though was aggravated to have a lot of the footage missing when the producer forwarded it to me yesterday. I didn’t get to see your deflowering, for example. Tell me what the hunter did to you, and in great detail.” I