The Secret Of Top Sales Manager

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I'm a luxury car sales manager making millions a year.

To the outside world, I'm a high-society beauty who has it all.

But they have no idea that my record-breaking sales are all bought with extracurricular favors in the bedroom.

I'm the sales manager at a high-end dealership. Every year, I'm the top seller. In just three years, I've pocketed over a million dollars in commissions.

I have delicate features and porcelain skin. Standing at five-foot-eight, I'm lean and elegant, with legs that seem to go on forever.

People see me as the ultimate success story, a girl who made it on her own. Only I know the truth of what I've become.

One morning, my boss rushed into my office looking frantic. "Lianna, we've got a whale. He wants a custom Rolls-Royce, but he's already walked out of three other luxury showrooms."

He looked at me desperately. "None of their girls could close him. You're my ace in the hole. I'm counting on you."

Closing a Rolls-Royce meant a sixty-thousand-dollar commission for me.

That was a massive payday.

I immediately shifted into high gear. "Consider it done," I said with total confidence.

I ditched my professional blazer and flats. I changed into a silk crop-top that left little to the imagination and a pair of sky-high stilettos.

My shoulders were bare, smelling of expensive perfume. My collarbones were sharp and defined, radiating sex appeal.

I showed off my toned midriff and those long, tanned legs. I looked better than most Hollywood starlets. Every head in the showroom turned as I walked.

I strutted toward the client with a model's poise.

His name was Lee Quinton, the chairman of the Quinton Group. He was worth hundreds of millions.

He was barely five-foot-four, balding, and carried a massive gut. His face was oily and covered in red blotches. Honestly, he looked like a human toad in a three-thousand-dollar suit.

Men like him made my stomach churn.

But today, he was my meal ticket. No matter how much he repulsed me, I had to be his dream girl.

"Mr. Quinton, it's such a pleasure. I'm Lianna, your personal consultant for this masterpiece."

I spoke softly and leaned in slightly. I extended my hand, offering him a warm smile.

The moment he saw me, he froze.

A man with his money was never short on female company.

But he rarely saw someone of my caliber up close.

As I bowed slightly, my neckline shifted. From his height, he had a clear, unobstructed view of everything I was offering.

I wasn't just pretty; I was a masterpiece of curves.

His eyes flashed with a primal greed. He looked like he wanted to devour me right there on the showroom floor. I could almost see the drool at the corner of his mouth.

"Hello there," he rasped.

He stared straight down my top while grabbing my hand.

My skin was silky and soft.

His thick, sweaty palm lingered, rubbing against mine in a way that left no doubt about his intentions. He was a total creep.

I kept the professional mask on. "Mr. Quinton, if you have any questions about the specs, I'm here to give you every answer you need."

A car at this level is already perfect. There wasn't much to ask.

But Lee had to say something to keep me close. He pointed at the wheels. "I heard these tires have a special self-leveling system. Is that true?"

I knelt down right next to the tire, looking up at him like he was the center of my universe. "It's absolutely true, Mr. Quinton. These tires use a specialized technology that"

My sales records weren't built on my knowledge of engines. They were built on my willingness to "service" the client.

To make sure Lee took the bait, I had intentionally left my underwear at home that morning.

I was wearing a short sundress and nothing underneath.

As I knelt on the floor, the view under my skirt was completely open to him.

Lee's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He went dead silent, his pulse racing. I knew I had him.

I kept talking about the technical specs of the tires.

But he wasn't listening to a word I said. His entire focus was locked on what was happening under my dress.

Seeing that he was hooked, I stood up and flashed a playful smile. "Mr. Quinton, seeing is one thing, but feeling is another. Why don't we take her for a spin? I'll ride shotgun and answer any intimate questions you might have."

"Let's go," he barked, his voice thick with anticipation.

He climbed into the driver's seat, and I slid in next to him.

I had chosen this dress for a reason. When I stood, it hit mid-thigh.

When I sat down, the hem hiked up so far it barely covered anything at all.

I played the part of the modest girl, constantly tugging at the fabric but never quite covering enough. It was all about the tease.

Very few men could resist a woman like me when I wanted them.

Lee Quinton was clearly not one of those men.

He detoured the car toward a quiet, industrial backroad. He slowed the crawl, and then his greasy hand reached over, resting heavily on my thigh.

Being touched by someone who looked like a melted candle made my skin crawl.

But for the sake of the commission, I swallowed my disgust. I let out a soft, playful giggle. "Mr. Quinton! You're supposed to be driving. You're being such a bad boy."

He saw that I wasn't pushing him away. He took that as a green light. He slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the shoulder.

He got bolder, sliding his hand further up my dress.

I caught his wrist, giving him a sultry wink. "Mr. Quinton, we barely know each other. You're crossing a line here."

I was playing him like a fiddle, fueling his hunger. He couldn't take it anymore. "Listen, gorgeous. We're both adults. Don't play the innocent act with me. Give me what I want, and I'll sign for the car right now. Deal?"

This was exactly what I had been fishing for.

I smiled, leaning in close to his ear. "Well, Mr. Quinton if you put it that way, how can I say no?"

He turned into a frantic animal. He scrambled out of the car and dragged me from the front seat to the back.

The Rolls-Royce was nearly twenty feet long. The back seat was basically a luxury lounge, more than enough space for what was coming.

Lee didn't waste a second. He tore at my clothes, his stale, coffee-scented breath hot against my face.

Honestly, having a man like this ruin my body felt pathetic.

I put on a performance of a lifetime, matching his energy. The faster I made him finish, the sooner I could get away from him.

He was in his fifties, balding, and clearly lived a life of excess. His heart was probably screaming.

He didn't last long.

Within three minutes, he was done. It was pathetic.

It wasn't even enough to count as a workout for me. He was a complete disappointment.

But he was the one with the checkbook. I couldn't tell him the truth.

I leaned back and gave him a satisfied glow. I made sure my voice sounded breathless. "Wow, Mr. Quinton. For a man of your stature, you've got more fire than a guy half your age. I I think I'm still shaking."

Lee Quinton wasn't an idiot.

He knew his own limitations. He knew he had performed poorly, and he could tell I was laying the flattery on thick.

My words seemed to bruise his ego rather than stroke it.

He stared at my body with a look of intense dissatisfaction.

He had plenty of women, but never someone as high-end as me.

Now that he had me, he realized he hadn't actually enjoyed it because it ended so fast.

He wasn't ready to let me go yet. He decided to play dirty. "You know I wasn't really warmed up yet. How about this? You stay with me tonight. If you really show me a good time, I'll sign the papers tomorrow morning."

I hate people who move the goalposts. He was being greedy and breaking our unspoken deal.

I tried to decline gracefully with a pout. "Mr. Quinton, you already got what you wanted. I have a strict rule: one session per client. Don't be a greedy boy, it's not polite."

Lee chuckled darkly. "I'm not like your other clients. Most guys buy a car for fifty grand, and you make peanuts. This Rolls is a half-million-dollar machine. Your commission is huge. You owe me a second round for that kind of money."

He had a point, logically speaking.

But looking at his greasy face, I truly didn't want him touching me again.

I kept trying to dodge. "Mr. Quinton, you're being modest. In all my years, you're the only one I've ever done this for. Only a man of your power deserves me."

A man doesn't build a multi-million dollar empire by being easily fooled.

His face hardened. His voice turned cold and sharp. "Do you think I'm asking? You're mistaken. This is an order. Either you come with me tonight, or there is no deal. Period."

He had already used me, and now he was threatening me.

My chest tightened with rage. I wanted to slap the smug look off his face.

But I was too deep in. I couldn't lose the commission now.

I swallowed my pride and forced a smile. I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You're so scary when you're angry! I was just teasing you. Of course I'll come. A girl like me couldn't say no to you anyway."

Lee's predatory grin returned. He slapped my backside with his heavy hand. "That's a good girl."

That night, he booked a luxury suite. I showed up as promised.

He didn't even wait for a greeting. The second I walked in, he threw me onto the bed and stripped me bare.

But something was different. Only a few hours had passed, but he was like a different person. He was aggressive and had unnatural stamina.

I realized what was happening almost immediately.

The bastard had taken a little blue pill.

He knew he couldn't perform, so he used chemicals to ensure he could exhaust me.

It was disgusting. He forced me into a second round, and then he used the pills to drag it out.

He was shameless.

I had no choice but to endure it. I let him toss me around for over an hour until he finally collapsed.

My body was aching. I felt like I had been run over by a truck.

Finally, it was over.

I wanted to get as far away from this man as possible. I pulled the sales contract out of my bag and snuggled up to him. "Mr. Quinton, I gave you everything tonight. If you're happy, let's just get this signed so I can get some sleep."

He smiled and took the pen from the nightstand.

I thought the nightmare was ending. Instead, he tossed the contract onto the floor and looked at me with cold, dead eyes. "I'm not signing yet."

I had debased myself for this man. I had let him use me for hours. And now he was stalling.

I wanted to scream every curse word I knew.

But I kept my voice sweet. "Mr. Quinton, I've done everything you asked. Twice. Please, just sign. I'm begging you."

He looked at me with a sickening smirk. "You're making sixty grand off this deal, right?"

"Yes," I whispered, watching him warily.

"So," he continued. "You think two rounds with me is worth sixty thousand dollars? That's A-list celebrity prices. Are you an A-list star, Lianna?"

The insult stung like a whip.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, my voice trembling with anger.

He laughed. "It means you aren't even a famous influencer. Even if you were made of gold, you aren't worth that much. But I have two very important business partners in the next room. If you take care of them, then I'll sign."

The door opened, and two massive, muscular men walked in. Their eyes locked onto me with a hunger that made my blood run cold.