The Billionaire's Blue-Eyed Girl

by Tiffany Squires

  ‘I’m leaving.’ I’d announced to the spotty event co-ordinator who’d handed me the devil's costume upon arrival. I’d grabbed my bag and launched it over my shoulder, not hesitating to march straight out of the grand entrance and trample across the gravelled driveway towards the staff car park. It was only once inside the safety of my car I exhaled and made the mistake of closing my eyes. A mistake because behind my eyelids I saw him. Vividly. He was holding out his hand. But in my mind, his hand didn’t merely remain outstretched. In my imagination, his hand had reached up and grabbed my breast. And I had let him. More than that. I had invited him to. I’d begged him to. In my mind, he kneaded my flesh with such ferocity that my entire tit tumbled from its constraint within the diddy little basque. He’d not hesitated to dip his face and take my mound into his mouth, he’d nibbled on my nipple, flicked at it with his warm, wet tongue, causing convulsions to erupt through my entire body. It felt so real, so raw that I groaned. My hand stroked the material of my outfit and traced the stitching right down to the apex of my thighs where I was so hot I risked burning a hole in the seat. My fingernails trailed the edge of the fabric right down to where I flushed with excitement. Never in my life had I experienced such a strong fantasy. Especially while wide awake and sitting in a public place where anybody could pass. Reality snapped me from of my trance. I turned the key in the ignition, yanked the car into reverse and hit the accelerator so hard the wheels formed a cloud of dust behind me as I spun around and drove out of there faster than my car was able. It could wait until I got home. I just hoped that the vision of him, the jerk who’d reduced me to a pathetic puddle would still be as vivid as they were in that moment. And that my housemate wouldn’t be home to hear my release.

  Chapter Three

  Conrad

  It had been two weeks since my eyes first found hers. Fourteen days of not being able to shake them out of my consciousness. Three hundred and thirty-six hours of kicking myself for not keeping them in my sight. It was the blue. I had never seen such a blue. Like perfect flakes of snow, they’d gleamed against the flush of her fair complexion. They haunted me. I’ve searched for them in every face I’ve seen since. Hunted them like a poacher. Desperate to catch one more glimpse of them. No, I wanted more than that. I want to kidnap them. To claim them for my own. To look deep into them as I thrust myself into their owner and claim her as my own. What the hell? I was in her snarky company for minutes and she’d monopolised my thoughts since. That’s not normal. Maybe the girl was deserving of the devil’s costume she’d worn that night.

  Frustrated, I pushed my executive chair away from the antique desk which dominated my office and stood by the window. The view’s a dull one, the staff car park, it’s not the best view Tolbury house possessed but the good views are what we charge through the nose for, so I couldn’t complain. With such a bland view, I was free of distractions. The weather outside was bleak, dark and drizzly, winter was on the horizon and with winter comes snow. Beautiful, glistening snow. My thoughts should turn to my up-and-coming skiing holiday in Aspen but they didn’t. Instead, my mind wandered back to the mystery woman and her glacial eyes. Damn and blast. I couldn’t do it anymore. I needed to track her down. I sat back down and picked up the phone to call Glenn’s secretary. She’d know which agency they’d used to source waiting staff. It would take me an hour to track her down, so why had I not done it already? Just as I dial Glenn’s number there’s a tap at my door. Suzie, my PA, walked in.

  ‘Your eleven o’clock interview has arrived,’ she announced.

  My stomach sank as I cradled the phone back on its receiver. I’d forgotten all about the interviews for a manager at Wallington Estate. ‘She’s early.’

  ‘She is aware,’ Suzie said. ‘And said that she’s more than happy to wait. I thought you might like to know.’

  ‘Show her in,’ I snapped but guilt tugged at my gut. Suzie wasn’t to know she’d interrupted me from hunting down the object of my obsession. She’s a good PA who didn’t deserve to endure my frustrations. ‘Sorry,’ I said, adopting a much softer tone. ‘Please, show her through.’

  Suzie backed away to fetch my interviewee, and I scrutinised her CV once more. I was about to interview a girl called Tabitha Kendal who looked on paper like a smart cookie. She’d recently graduated from uni with a first in business and hospitality and expresses a sincere desire to work in the hospitality industry. Her work experience was primarily front-of-house with administration and telesales experience thrown in for good measure. She’d sat on the debate team in college and listed learning foreign languages and playing the piano amongst her hobbies. I looked forward to finding out if she was as good in the flesh as she was on paper. She may be young but with her credentials, I was sure she could cope with Glenn. Besides, all I needed was a pair of eyes and ears. It wasn’t as though I expected the recruit to make waves within the business.

  ‘Come in,’ I hollered when Suzie once again tapped on my door then stood to greet Miss Kendal.

  Suzy held the door open and a suited young woman of about twenty-two thanked her before walking through.

  I held my hand out to shake hers. ‘Good morning, Miss Kendal. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me at such short notice.’

  She was busy rummaging through her briefcase looking for something so it took her a moment to notice my hand was outstretched to shake hers. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t expecting to come straight through, I have a copy of my CV here—’ She retrieved the paperwork and held it out, freezing mid-sentence when she looked up, blood drained from her face and I knew exactly why because I feared the same had happened to me.

  Snow White’s picture-perfect eyes.

  They were right there.

  In my office.

  Staring straight at me.

  I blinked hard and gulped, swallowing the lump which popped up in my throat. ‘Please, Miss Kendal. Take a seat. I have a copy here so…’

  She sunk into the seat in front of my desk and I took a second to process what was happening. She looked uncomfortable. As though she’d prefer to be anywhere else. I couldn’t blame her for a second. The last time she saw me I was flaming mad and accusing her of stealing. Not to mention demanding to know who it was she was speaking to on the telephone. If I was her, I’d be uneasy in my company too. I would have to play things smart. Starting with not mentioning that we had already met once before.

  Tabby

  Oh my god. I could not believe it was happening. The moment I set eyes on him all my hopes, dreams and aspirations came crashing around my ears. My big career break, broken. He was bound to discount me on the back of that disastrous first meeting.

  Since the waitressing job at Wallington House I had dreamt of coming face to face with this man again. I’d stood in queues at the supermarket wondering if he shopped there. I’d scrolled through job pages on the internet unable to focus, wallowing in memories of his overpowering presence instead. I’d longed to see him again to find out if he really was everything my imagination had turned him into. But not at a job interview. With him interviewing me.

  It was a week prior that I’d finally heard about a job that matched my CV. A lovely girl from one of the hundred agencies I’d registered with had called with the offer of an interview for a Sales Manager. I’d squealed with glee and then listened as she’d given me more information. It was with the world-renowned Belmore Estates. This news should have made me giddy, but didn’t. My heart had sunk. Not Wallington House I pleaded silently as she rattled off details. I couldn’t go back there. What if somebody recognised me? Thankfully, the interview was at Tolbury House, which was hours away so the chances anybody putting two and two together and realising I had almost worked there already once before were thin. Or so I had thought. Until I found myself face to face with him. Mr Conrad Belmore Junior. It turned out that the man I’d been masturbating over morning, noon and night, was also the man who could make or break my future with the stroke of a fountain pen.<
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  ‘So, Miss Kendal,’ he said, addressing me by my name five times in as many minutes, almost as though he were trying to commit it to memory. ‘I see here you have a degree in business and hospitality.’ He looks up from my CV and smiled. I melted. His smile was as delicious as I remembered. And the best thing. There wasn’t a hint of recognition in his face.

  I cleared my throat before answering. ‘That’s correct,’ I said, but my voice still cracked. I needed a drink. An ice-cold drink. To pour over my head to heal myself of the burning, which was turning me into an incompetent. I poise myself and continue. ‘It’s always been my dream to manage an estate like this one.’

  His eyebrow arches. ‘Your dream?’

  I gulp. ‘Yes, my dream.’ I confirm.

  ‘Ok, so tell me more about this dream. What does it look like? How exactly do you perform?’

  Oh my god. I perform like a god damn porn star I thought before composing myself and giving the answer I’d practised over and over. ‘I have many strengths,’ I said and he raises an eyebrow. I search for hints of recognition of our last encounter but can see none, so continue. ‘You’ll see on my CV I have strong communication skills, I was on the debate team in university and during summer I worked several front-of-house jobs which means I have first-hand experience of how a hospitality venue runs. I have also enjoyed sales training in other part-time telesales positions, which I held down whilst studying for my degree. This shows that I can work under pressure and can turn my hand to most tasks. I’m prepared to put in the hours required to turn a healthy profit and can learn everything that is necessary to make your estate the most successful one in your impressive portfolio.’

  When I finish my spiel, I noticed that Mr Belmore had leaned forward in his chair, his chin was resting on his knuckles and he looked intrigued. As though he was hanging off every word I said. The glint in his eye told me I impressed him so I allowed myself to relax. He had no recollection of meeting me that evening. He had no idea it was I who told him where to go before flouncing away like an overly dramatic teen. I was safe.

  The rest of the interview went as expected. I maintained my professionalism and did not let my guard down. Mr Belmore asked all the questions he wanted to ask. I wondered at one point if he was a little bored. He probably was. He’d probably interviewed a dozen people already and had a dozen more lined up.

  ‘I think I have all the information I need,’ he said closing the file which held my CV. ‘There’s just one more question I need to ask.’

  My heart quickened. ‘Yes?’

  He stood and offered his hand. ‘When can you start?’

  I couldn’t help but gasp. ‘Start?’

  He grinned. A grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes and caused his temple to twitch. ‘Yes, start. I believe that you are exactly the person we need in the role and I don’t want a competitor to snap you up.’

  Somehow I scrambled to my feet and accepted his outstretched hand. His strong fingers wrapped around my trembling ones and I prayed he didn’t notice how feeble my grasp was. My handshake normally showed that I meant business but my hand wasn’t playing ball. ‘I can start today,’ I blurted, my desperation made me cringe, so I backtracked. ‘Or tomorrow, or next week, if you need time to gather references first.’

  He dropped my hand and walked to the door; I followed in a blind haze. I was so woozy with the unexpected job offer I didn’t notice his hesitation at the door and walked straight into his back.

  He turned and looked down at me, seriousness etched on his face. ‘Actually, there’s something I didn’t mention. The role isn’t at Tolbury.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘No, you’ll be working from at Wallington House with my brother, Glenn. Would that be a problem for you, Miss Kendal?’

  I blinked up at him, unsure what to say. Part of me was thankful that I wouldn’t have to control my unruly hormones around him but it upset another part that he’d not be in my world daily. The man set off something in me. Something needy. Something primal. ‘That won’t be a problem at all,’ I said. ‘Actually, it’s great news, it means I won’t need to move house. Thank you so much for the opportunity, Mr Belmore. I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.’

  He still didn’t turn the handle to open the door. Instead, he leaned closer to speak in my ear. The proximity quickened my heart and I’m sure they could hear the pounding all around the house.

  ‘Although, I must add,’ he said. ‘It is I who is your boss, Miss Kendal. Not Glenn. You are answerable to me and me only. If you feel that my brother is not working towards our common goal of making Wallington the go-to venue of choice for the respectable and elite you are to let me know.’

  I nodded. Unable to say or do anything else. His presence overwhelmed me and his voice, deep and gravelly and oh so domineering, made every single hair on my body stand to attention. The heat in the room had become unbearable and I needed to leave before I did something stupid.

  ‘I’m glad you understand.’ He smiled and cocked his head to one side. ‘Now, you should know that Glenn can be difficult. But I want to take this opportunity to assure you that I am only on the other end of the phone and on your team. If you need me, you call.’ With one swift motion, he opens the door and the fresh air invigorates my lungs, jerking me out of my spell. ‘I’ll let Glenn know that you will be there tomorrow morning at 8am.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Belmore. I look forward to meeting him.’

  ‘Don’t, the man is a rogue and not to be trusted. Please, keep your wits about you and remember where I am at all times.’

  I left with my head in tatters and my heart doing The Rhumba. What was that? What just happened in there? And did I want the job if Glenn Belmore is so bad that his very own brother feels the need to give me a warning about him? And who was Mr Conrad Belmore to me now? My boss? My protector? One thing was certain. He’ll never be my actual flesh and blood lover, and the heated fantasies had to stop straight away.

  Chapter Four

  Conrad

  I couldn’t believe it had been one whole month since I recruited the delightful Miss Kendal. She insisted that I call her Tabitha or Tabby, but I couldn’t do it. If I knocked down that wall of formality, I feared which other walls would tumble alongside it. It had also been one month since I began my daily commute to Wallington House. Somebody could argue that it wasn’t necessary, but I would argue harder that it was very necessary. There was no way I could leave her alone with Glenn for too long without making my presence known. He’d requested that I recruit somebody fuckable. My intention had been quite the opposite. But somehow, I had recruited the most desirable woman to ever walk the planet. As a result, I had no choice but to make sure he kept his lowlife mitts off her. I was more than aware that Miss Kendal was a female in her early twenties when I arranged the interview, but had wrongly assumed that she was a geeky twenty-two-year-old. How was I supposed to know that the girl who possessed the perfect CV was also a complete bombshell? So, that was how I found myself racking up the road miles, travelling to see her every damn day. Every morning I promised myself that that would be the day that I gave her space, yet by ten o’clock I found myself getting in my car and pointing it in her direction. Honestly, since meeting her I’d become the least productive businessman ever. I needed to regain my focus but had no idea how. Well, I did. I needed to get over my obsession with her. The only way I could think to do that was to claim Miss Kendal for my own. Yet again my mind wandered towards all the things I would do to her if she’d just drop the Little Miss Professional act. I was certain it was an act, and that she wanted it too. I could smell it on her. I could read it in her eyes. I could sense it in every move she made in those tight little business suits of hers, which were, quite frankly, borderline illegal. I adjusted the hardness in my trousers as I pictured her sexy little undercarriage. I wondered if she shaves. Or waxes. Or if she has a mass of beautiful raven hair guarding her most precious folds. My balls clenched at the thought of how dark h
er nipples are. Judging by her hair colour I’ll bet they’re like little chocolate buttons sitting on swirls of whipped cream. The sound of my phone ringing through my Porsche’s Bluetooth system melts the visions from my mind’s eye. A cursory glance at the display tells me it’s Wallington House. Not only that, but it’s Miss Kendal’s direct line. My interest piqued. She’d never called me. Ever.

  I answered her call on the second ring. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Mr Belmore, It’s Miss Kendal. I’m sorry to bother you but it’s important. Are you OK to talk?’

  Am I OK to talk? I could have been dining with the Prime Minister and I’d still prioritise a call from her over and above everything else. ‘Yes. What’s the problem?’

  She sighs. ‘It’s Glenn. You said I was to call if he did anything that I disagree with.’