Falling for Mr. Statham: A Billionaire Romance (Boxed Set)

by Whitney G.

  “You can’t tell me right now because you’d rather wait until you get to work and tell me in a text message?”

  “No...”

  “Then tell me what you like...”

  “Everything...”

  He closed the little space that was left between us, keeping his thumb busy, bringing his mouth close to my ear. “Tell me you love it when I fuck you with my mouth.”

  “I do.”

  “Say. It.”

  I swallowed. “I love when you go down on me...”

  He sighed and slowly pulled away from me, and I thought he was going to step over and hit the start button, but he spun me around so that I was facing the corner and gripped my waist. “You were right...We do need better communication.”

  “Jonathan, there are federal offices in here. The fire department is going to—” I stopped once I felt him sliding into me, forcing himself deeper and deeper.

  “If you think that I’m going to be happy in a marriage where my own wife can’t tell me what she wants, you’re sadly mistaken, Claire...” He held me completely still once he was entirely inside of me.

  Kissing the back of my neck, he whispered once again, “Tell. Me. What. You. Like.”

  I couldn’t think. I was too pre-occupied with thoughts of the fire department calling the elevator to check on us, thoughts about how my standing in a corner with Jonathan buried deep inside of me would look.

  Before I could snap back into reality and answer him, he pulled out and quickly thrust himself back in—over and over, making me scream louder than ever.

  “I asked you a question, Claire.” He gripped my breasts and squeezed them, slamming into me with each moan I let escape from my mouth.

  “I...I like...” I stuttered. “I like when you...”

  “Yes?” He moved one of his hands to my clit and started rubbing it in a rhythm he knew all too well.

  “When you...”

  “Fuck me with your mouth...” He was speeding up his thrusts now, making it harder and harder for me to talk straight. “Finish. The .Sentence.”

  “Wait...I...I like when...when you—”

  BEEP! BEEP!

  “Elevator car number 510 at Waldo and Emerson Associates, this is responding unit 861.” A voice came over the speakers. “Speaking to you right now is Chief Brennan Marshall. We’ve noticed the current cart has stalled for over six minutes. Are there any persons inside?”

  BEEP! BEEP!

  “You know I don’t care if they see us like this...” Jonathan grabbed my hands, pulling them up over my head and pressing them against the wall. “And I won’t stop when they open the doors if you haven’t answered me.”

  “Are there any persons inside?” The fire chief repeated. “Hmmm. Might be an empty car gentlemen,” he said in a lowered voice.

  “There are persons inside.” Jonathan answered calmly, but his thrusts inside of me were the exact opposite. I was doing my best to hold my breath and bite down on my lip to prevent myself from screaming again.

  “Okay, hold tight. We’ll send a team over now.”

  There was another series of beeps to end the conversation, and then everything around me went hazy—blurred. I was suddenly screaming at the top of my lungs as he pushed me to the verge of an orgasm, as he demanded that I answer him one last time.

  “I love when you...” I let my head fall back against his shoulder, let my body completely go. “When you fuck me with your mouth...” I shut my eyes as my knees gave in beneath me, as he slowly slid out of me and let me fall to the floor.

  I wanted to sit like that forever—on a high, in bliss, but Jonathan pulled me up and held me against his side, hitting the stop button and pressing the level that was right above the lobby.

  When we stepped off the elevator, he kept me tucked by his side and led me down the emergency stairwell and outside. As soon as the first whiff of fresh air hit my face, I took a deep breath. “Do you always have to do that to me? Is it impossible for you to wait?”

  “It’s the only way to get you to tell me the truth...” He released me. “And I think you like it...”

  I rolled my eyes and tried not to smile.

  “I love you, Claire.” He kissed my forehead and adjusted my necklace. “I don’t know why you’re still so reserved about discussing sex with me, but you shouldn’t be. You should be able to tell me what you want, whenever you want, and I’ll make sure it gets done.” He kissed me again and wrapped his arms around my waist, leading me over to the parking lot.

  As we approached our cars—town car for me, Bugatti for him, he spun me around to face him.

  “Do you still think we need pre-marital counseling? Are there any other intimacy issues we need to discuss?”

  “No...”

  “Hmmm...” He pressed his lips against mine. “You are so lucky that I have a flight to catch right now,” he said as he slowly pulled his mouth away from me, as he pressed my crumpled notecard into my hand. “Be home by six.”

  **

  Days later, I stood in my office and stared at the newest set of family photos I’d hung on my wall: pictures of me, Ashley, Caroline, and Jonathan hanging out at a private lake.

  In one photo, the four of us were building a large sand castle, laughing at how long it’d taken us to put it together. In another we were rowing four small kayaks across the water.

  Ever since Ashley and Caroline had gone off early to college in Arizona, my days at home were a lot less noisy. They were actually quite boring.

  I missed the two of them lying around on the couch—talking about absolutely nothing, laughing at my terrible jokes, and ultimately getting on my nerves from time to time. I missed that.

  Now, instead of family dinners on Sunday and Thursday nights, Jonathan and I simply went over to his little sister Hayley’s condo and ate dinner with her. Although he never admitted it, Jonathan was missing family dinners too; I was pretty sure that was why he’d already planned a week of meals for their Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks.

  “Miss Gracen?” My assistant interrupted my thoughts.

  “Yes, Rita?”

  “Your daily flowers from Mr. Statham have just arrived. Would you like them in here?”

  “Yes, please.” I leaned back as she pulled a small cart of flowers—orchids, Baby’s Breath, and white carnations into my office.

  As usual, there was a silver card with a note on top:

  Dear Future Wife,

  Do I need to start picking you up from work to get you home in time to eat dinner with me? You’ve been late all week.

  Stop Testing Me.

  Love,

  Your Future Husband

  I laughed. I was about to pick up my phone and call him, but Rita stepped into my office again.

  “Your three o’clock is here now,” she said. “I’m going to bring her back before my lunch break.”

  “Thank you, Rita.” I stood up and smoothed my dress, ready to seal another deal, blocking everything else out.

  As soon as the client walked into my office, my mind was focused on white columns, framed cabinets, and the stained wood necessary to create a brand new space. She and I talked for hours, negotiating the timeline, the best materials, and of course, the cost for everything.

  When I handed her the final contract, she nodded her head and grabbed a pen to sign it. “Everything looks really good, Miss Gracen. These dates work well for me.”

  “Great. I’m really looking forward to designing your new living room, Mrs. Klein.” I shook her hand and stood up.

  “Thank you.” She smiled. “I’m sure it’ll be just as fabulous as all your other work.”

  “I guarantee it.” I led her out of my office and back inside the storefront, pulling all the drapes closed once she walked outside.

  I’ll finally get to make it home on time today...

  I started straightening the pillow display that was over by the bay window, making sure all the tags were tightly tucked underneath. I was tempted to lay ac
ross them and relax, but my phone rang. Jonathan.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Claire.” His deep voice still had the power to make me melt. “What are you doing right now?”

  “I’m closing the store. You?”

  “I’m driving. Are you tired?”

  “Why?”

  “Answer the question.”

  “Yes.” I yawned. “I’m too tired to have sex with you right now.”

  He laughed. “Would you like me to reschedule our meeting with the wedding planner then?”

  “No!” I’d been looking forward to that meeting for weeks. “Not at all.”

  “Good. I’m on my way to pick you up. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  “See you soon.” I hung up and swiped a mini-duster over the candle shelves.

  I was halfway done when I heard the bell over the door ring.

  “I’ll be right there.” I didn’t bother turning around. “Let me finish this last shelf and—”

  “Claire?”

  My blood boiled at the very sound of that voice.

  I shook my head, knowing that I couldn’t be standing in my store. I had to be at home and asleep in my bed. I had to be dreaming. No, I had to be having a nightmare.

  “Claire?” He asked again, and I pinched myself before slowly turning around.

  I wasn’t at home. I wasn’t dreaming.

  It was Ryan.

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed.

  “I almost didn’t recognize you when I walked in. You look good, really good...” He looked me up and down. “Life must be treating you well.”

  “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “Look. I know I’m the last person you want to see right now, but since I’m in town, I thought I would—”

  “Invite me out to dinner? Catch up on life? I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “I beg to differ. We need to talk.”

  “No thanks. Not interested.”

  “It’s important.” He sighed.

  “No. It’s not.”

  “Claire, it’s been five years now. We can at least be cordial to one another.”

  “Cordial? How cordial do you think I should be to the lying sack of shit who got my ex-best friend pregnant?” I shook my head. “Actually, don’t even answer that. I’ve already used up my pointless conversation minutes for the day. Please get the hell out of my store.”

  “You’re going to listen to me, Claire.” He took a step forward and looked directly into my eyes. “Whether you like it or not, you’re going to stand there and listen to every word that I have to say.”

  I crossed my arms. “If I were you, I would leave right now. My fiancée will be here any minute and he won’t be as nice as I’m being to you.”

  His face suddenly fell—or at least it looked like it did. “You’re...You’re engaged now? To who?”

  “Please leave, Ryan.” I felt an ache in my chest—a painful, burning ache. “I don’t want you here. Ever.”

  He stared at me—shaking his head as he slowly backed away.

  Before he opened the door, he looked over his shoulder. “I’m only leaving right now because you’re closing and I have somewhere to be. I was just stopping by to make sure it was true that you worked here. Trust me, I’ll be back. And you and I are going to talk.”

  It took every ounce of strength in my body not to run over and stab him with the edge of my dust wand, but I just stood there. Paralyzed. Livid.

  As soon as he was gone, I gained mobility again and threw my dust wand to the floor. I headed behind the counter, pressing the button that made the glass panel drop down and block anyone from coming any further; I didn’t want to take any chances on him returning minutes later.

  I locked myself in the bathroom and ran cold water in the sink, splashing my face over and over again. As hard as I tried to fight it, my most vivid and bitter memory of our failed marriage began to play in my mind...

  I took another sip of disgusting wine and looked at the incriminating photos Barry had handed me.

  “I asked Amanda where she was on last Friday.” Barry lit a cigar and shook his head. “She told me she was with you—out shopping for a new dress.” He picked up one of the photos and ran his fingers along the timestamp. “Maybe she meant she was wearing a dress while she was fucking Ryan in his office...”

  I let out a short nervous laugh, but I couldn’t stop crying. As hard as I tried to repress my sobs, the tears were falling faster and faster and my chest was heaving uncontrollably.

  A waiter stopped by and cleared his throat. “Um, sir? This is a nonsmoking—”

  “My wife is fucking her husband.” Barry snapped. “I can smoke wherever the fuck I want today.”

  The waiter’s face turned bright red and he dashed across the room.

  I wiped away another stream of tears and stared at the photo that had fallen in my lap, the one of Ryan tucking a strand of hair behind Amanda’s ear, the one of her leaning in close for a kiss from his lips.

  “Can I keep a set of these?” My voice cracked.

  “Of course you can. I made four copies. One for you, one for me, and two sets for my lawyers.”

  I nodded and slid the stack of photos back into the envelope. I was too numb to say anything else. I needed to be alone.

  Standing up, I walked over and hugged Barry—knowing that I wouldn’t see him again for a very long time.

  He hugged me back and used his wrinkled sleeve to wipe my face. “You’re going to be okay, Claire. Don’t let what they’ve done to us ruin you. You’re an amazing person and you’ll bounce back from this...”

  He said a few more things, but I couldn’t make out any of the words. I was too busy focusing on the drive home, too busy wondering what the hell I was going to say when I saw Ryan face to face.

  I dragged myself out of the hotel lounge and into the rain—not bothering to put up my umbrella. The valet brought my car around and offered to give me a towel for my seat, but I slipped inside and sped off.

  “I love you, Claire...You’re the love of my life...I’m going to make sure our anniversary is the best one we’ve ever had...”

  I sniffled as I remembered him saying those words to me—last night.

  “You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved—and you always will be...”

  I pulled off on the exit that led to our suburb, shaking my head at all the beautiful memories that were playing in my head—knowing that no matter what I said to him tonight, our so-called “fairytale” was long over.

  I drove around our neighborhood until the gas needle hit “E,” trying to come up with something to say, but I was too numb, too hurt. After deciding that I would let the pictures say it all, I drove my car into the garage and sat at the wheel with my head in my hands.

  The two of us were just shopping for new kitchen countertops last week—he wanted wood and I wanted granite. We were just planning our fifteen year anniversary, and even though he’d been vague about the plans, I was sure he was taking me to the Panama Canal, the one place I’d always wanted to go.

  A round of thunder roared in the distance and the rain began to pelt even harder, so I closed the garage and slipped out of the car.

  Taking a deep breath, I twisted the doorknob and stepped inside the house.

  “Hey, Mom!” “Why are you so late today?” Caroline and Ashley didn’t look up from their homework.

  “Hey, babe.” Ryan pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead. “Are you okay?” He raised his eyebrow, lowering his voice and asking why my face was “so red...like [I’d] been crying.”

  I didn’t answer his question. I just stared into his eyes, wondering how he could act as if everything was normal—as if he hadn’t fucked Amanda in our bedroom yesterday.

  “You’re drenched...” He ran his hands against my soaked blazer. “Did you lose your umbrella?”

  I swallowed, shaking my head.

  He smiled. “Well, go
dry up. Whatever’s bothering you—whatever it is, we can talk about it after dinner. Okay? I ordered pizza from the girls’ favorite place and it’s ready now.” He kissed my cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

  I heard him whisper “I love you” into my ear before he walked away.

  As soon as I heard him revving up his engine and heading down the driveway, I turned to face my daughters.

  “Mom?” Ashley tilted her head to the side. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Caroline lifted her head up and frowned. “Mom? Why are you staring at us like that?” She looked at Ashley and shook her head. “Why isn’t she talking?”

  “I need you two to go to your room.” My voice cracked. “I need to...I need to talk to your dad when he gets back. Alone.”

  They exchanged confused glances, but they put their folders away and hugged me before heading upstairs.

  As soon as I heard their door close, I took out the envelope and sat down at the table, thinking about how I was going to present the photos to Ryan.

  All of a sudden, my phone vibrated. A text. Amanda. “Hey Claire! Just texting you to remind you about that jazzercise class we signed up for tomorrow morning! I’ll pick you up at nine!”

  Is this bitch serious?!

  I tossed my phone across the room, knocking a photo frame off the wall. Hurt, I stood up and took the photos out of the envelope. I walked around downstairs and tossed them all over the floor, leaving a trail from the dining room to the living room and into the kitchen.

  The last photo in my hands was one of Amanda straddling his lap in his car last week—in the parking lot of his law firm.

  I wanted to rip it apart and force the pieces down his throat, but I heard the knob of the garage door twisting, heard him saying, “Where’d everybody go? I’m back!”

  I leaned against the table and tried to calm my shaking hands.

  “Ashley? Caroline? Claire?” His steps were getting closer and closer. “Did a tornado hit the inside of our house while I was gone?” He finally stepped into the kitchen.

  “What’s going on, Claire?” He set the pizzas on the counter. “What are all these pictures and why are they all over the place?”

  I didn’t answer. I just stared at him as he bent down to pick one of them up, as his face immediately went white.