Billionaire's Redemption

by M T Stone

  “This is some old Reynolds Wrap,” she says, looking at the box in amazement. “This has to be from the eighties or something.”

  I laugh, looking at the box. “The only ones who ever used it were Grandpa and me. The last time I used it was several years ago, when I had that little breakdown. Here, I’ll take that. You sit down and look at this.” I hand her the photo album in exchange.

  She gives me a confused look before pulling the book from my hand and taking a seat at the counter. I know she was confused by my statement, but things might be a little clearer by the time she reaches the end of the book.

  Kayla

  My head is still spinning from his not so subtle admission that he has been thinking about getting rid of me. Just an hour earlier, he had asked me if I was happy. He must have been hoping I would say no. That way, he could fire me with a clear conscience. He really infuriates me sometimes, the self-absorbed bastard. I dropped everything and came out here because I was worried about him. How could he even think about firing me?

  I open the book, and the first page is a big picture of the two of us at his twelfth birthday party. That was the first time I was out here. We had such a good time. After that day, we would both beg our parents to let me come out here with them whenever it wasn’t a holiday weekend. I smile and turn the page. I get a little emotional upon seeing the huge sand castle we built on the beach. It was more like a sand mansion. I remember how much fun we had building a moat around it and filling it with water. I also remember how devastated we were the following weekend when we found it had been destroyed by a summer rain.

  Page after page, the memories flood back into my life. Ever since I started working with him, we spend the majority of the week together, so I guess it has pacified me a bit. But looking through all of these pictures literally makes my heart ache for how much fun we had together in our youth. “I remember being annoyed that your mom was always taking pictures of us, but what a gift.”

  “Is there anything you notice as you look through them?” he asks, coming up behind me and slipping his arm around me.

  “We spent a lot of time out here and we were pretty awesome at building sand castles?” I ask, not really knowing what he meant.

  “No,” he replies, with tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He begins to turn the pages and points to our mouths in the pictures. Page after page, picture after picture reveals nothing but toothy smiles. Not the fake smiles that kids so often do for pictures—those smiles were genuine. “Neither of us have smiled like that in years.”

  Tears immediately spring from my eyes at the realization. “You’re right. We always had a good time when we were together. It didn’t really matter what we were doing.”

  He steps back and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “Look at us. A couple of saps. I honestly can’t remember the last time I got choked up like this.” He grabs the foil and rips off a couple of sheets. “Let’s cook some fish. I must be getting low blood sugar or something.”

  “Showing emotion is part of being human,” I tease, shaking my head and wiping my own eyes. Why is it that guys feel like they have to be stone cold all the time? “A real man isn’t afraid to show a little emotion now and then.”

  “I guess I’m finally becoming a real man then, huh?” he asks with a slight curl to his lips.

  “Hey, do you remember this swimsuit?” I point to a picture of myself when I was a senior in high school. I was so tan that summer and spent most of my time in a little white bikini. “I remember thinking I was really hot in that.”

  “You were really hot,” he replies, his grin broadening. “By that summer, I absolutely knew that I was in love with you. But that was the year you had a thing for Bradley Davis, remember? He was a sophomore at NYU.”

  “Yes, I remember. He was pretty good looking back then,” I reply in a weak defense.

  “Yeah, have you seen him now?” he laughs. “I don’t think I would even have a Facebook account if I had let myself go like that.” He seems to revel in the fact as he adds the carrots, lemon wedges, and butter to the foil packets and rolls them up. He looks like a natural in the kitchen. “I’m going to go put these on the grill. You keep looking through that book.” He gives me a wink on his way out the door.

  As I continue to look through the book, I’m amazed by how many pictures there are of the two of us. Paul is in a few of them, but mostly, it’s just Blake and me. Whenever I have thought back to high school and college, I have always thought about how much time we spent together, but it’s kind of overwhelming to see it all laid out like this. We were basically inseparable.

  Blake

  Stoking up the wood fired grill, I take a moment to take in the cool evening air and the smell of the igniting wood. This is a million miles from a normal Monday night for me. I glance at my watch. Normally, I would be slaving away at my office, eating a meal that had been delivered from one of the dozen five-star restaurants in the area. Bringing one of my favorite meals into my office was normally the last thing Kayla would do for me before leaving for the evening. They are always delicious, but I rarely take the time to enjoy them because I’m so absorbed with casework. Like most of my life these days, I simply go through the motions. I set the temperature on the grill and set both foil packets on the top rack. In fifteen minutes, they will be grilled to perfection. I set a timer on my phone.

  “You don’t have to fire me,” Kayla announces in a reflective voice as I return to the kitchen. She slides a piece of paper across the counter toward me.

  “What’s this?” I reach out and stop it before it goes over the edge.

  “My resignation.” Her voice cracks as she says it out loud. “I quit.”

  More than a bit stunned, I pick up the piece of paper and read the hastily written resignation letter. Leave it to Kayla to make it as official as possible even though she only had a few minutes, a pen, and notepad.

  Dear Mr. Blake Taylor,

  I, Kayla Young, officially announce my resignation from Taylor, Hastings & Reed, effective immediately.

  The past ten years have been very rewarding. I've enjoyed working for you and managing a very successful team dedicated to serving our clients to the best of our abilities. After looking through our memories, however, I have come to the conclusion that I can no longer be employed by the firm.

  Thank you for the opportunities that you have provided me. I hope to see our relationship move in a new, more fulfilling direction. If I can be of any assistance during this transition, please don't hesitate to ask.

  Sincerely,

  Ms. Kayla Young

  1/18/2017

  Chapter 5

  Kayla

  As I sit in silence watching Blake read the resignation letter, I can feel my heart practically beating out of my chest. By the initial scowl on his face, I have to wonder if I misunderstood the hints he has been dropping. The intensity with which he is reading the words is killing me. He sets down the letter, turns, and walks away from me toward the refrigerator. Son of a bitch! He didn’t say a word. He clears his throat and shakes his head before opening the fridge door. My heart drops. How could I have misread what he was implying?

  He reaches to the back of the top shelf and pulls out a shiny, gold colored box. He turns and sets it on the counter. The label on the side of box indicates that it’s a bottle of 2009 Cristal. “You finally got the message,” he says with a smile breaking through the facade. “I’ve looked through that book about a dozen times in the past five years. Each time, I’ve thought about firing you.”

  Tears fill my eyes as he pulls the bottle from the box and cuts the foil. “You have no idea how many times I have wished that it was me going to the Bahamas with you instead of those stupid interns,” I admit, my voice still crackling. “Every time that you returned and the intern disappeared into the void, I would breathe a sigh of relief. I thought for sure you would click with one of them, and then I would have to either fight for you or let you go.”

&n
bsp; “Fight for me?” he replies with a surprised look. “You have never had to fight for me. Have you forgotten that you were the one who always turned me down? That’s why I decided to forget about it and leave you alone.”

  I push the bottle of champagne to the side and slip my arms around him, squeezing tightly against his chest. “I’m sorry for being such an idiot,” I reply. “I just thought that maybe time had passed us by because you only seemed interested in girls who were barely old enough to legally have a cocktail.” I look up at him through tear-blurred eyes.

  “That was just an easy way to stay out of any serious relationships. I have nothing in common with those girls,” he replies, taking my head in his hands. “You’re the only one I’ve ever truly wanted. I’ve known since I was sixteen that you’re my soulmate. Your resignation is officially accepted.” He turns my back to the wall and pushes me up against it, kissing me hard. Our hungry lips and tongues seem to be unable to get enough of each other. The smell of his skin, the taste of his lips, and the passion in his touch are enough to instantly melt me. Every care in my world immediately evaporates into the distance, and the only thing remaining in my entire consciousness is this hunk of a man, my lifelong best friend who has me pinned up against the wall and is kissing me like I’ve never been kissed in my entire life.

  “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing that,” he says after pulling back to take a breath. “I honestly can’t believe it’s finally happening. I think this is going to be a night that we never forget.” His hands remain on my cheeks as I stare into his dark, sexy eyes. The fact that this is a dream come true for him simply blows my mind. If I had known that he still felt this way about me, I would’ve never joined the firm as his executive assistant. I can still help with anything that he needs—I just can’t be on the payroll.

  “Let’s have some of that champagne,” I suggest, displaying my trembling hand for him. “I need a little to settle my nerves. This night is turning out way differently than I ever imagined. I came out here thinking I was going to have to convince you that you need more rest and a little less partying . . . and to maybe grow up a little.”

  “I want nothing more than to grow up,” he replies without a hint of hesitation. “I’ve been out of college for more than a decade. I’ve had more than enough of the weekend warrior lifestyle. I’ve just been waiting for a reason to settle down.”

  I grab two champagne glasses from the rack and set them down on the granite countertop in front of him. I haven’t felt this giddy in years. It’s like I’m sixteen all over again. I think back to the first kiss we shared way back then. We were such good friends that it felt a little bit like kissing a relative or something. That feeling kind of stuck with me, so I thought maybe we could never be more than friends. The kiss we just shared, however, almost knocked me off my feet. There was nothing awkward or familial about it. I have never felt that kind of passion for anyone or from anyone.

  Blake

  I pop the cork on the champagne and pour each of us a small glass. “Here’s to a lifetime of smiles,” I say, clinking my glass against hers. The smile on her face is absolutely radiant as she tips the glass to her lips and drinks the champagne down in a matter of seconds. I follow suit.

  “Whew, I needed that,” she says with a giggle. “I’m not exactly used to being swept off my feet.”

  “You haven’t seen a damn thing yet,” I growl, nuzzling against her cheek and slipping my hands around her shapely ass. It is every bit as firm as I’ve always imagined. I savor the taste of her champagne coated lips as we kiss each other with the same passion and fervor as a moment earlier. I could literally sip champagne and kiss these gorgeous full lips all night long. Unfortunately, the timer on my phone is vying for my attention. It’s probably a good thing I set that timer, or we would’ve ended up with a scorched mess instead of dinner.

  “Let’s eat out on the patio and watch the sunset,” she suggests, searching through the drawers for utensils.

  “There are plates in the cupboard to your right and the silverware is in the drawer right below it,” I tell her before heading out to the grill to retrieve the food. As soon as I open the door, the smoky aroma reminds me of the meals I used to share with Granddad. I shake my head, not really understanding why I’m feeling so sentimental about everything. My phone buzzes again just as I reach the grill. I glance down, expecting another message from my father, but this time it’s Mom telling me that I need to five him a call. He’s apparently ‘fit to be tied’, in her words. I shoot her a quick text telling her that I’m spending the evening with Kayla and that I’ll give him a call in the morning. I shove the phone in my pocket and open the grill, not wanting to ruin the fish by overcooking it.

  I pull the foil packets onto a serving tray and turn toward the only small patio table that remains. After Labor Day, the staff packs away almost everything, leaving only a few chairs and this one small table in case any of us want to come out for the day. I smile as Kayla appears with nothing but filled champagne glasses, two forks, and two napkins. “Lets eat right out of the packets, like we did when we were kids,” she says with a smile.

  “Sounds perfect.” I smirk, once again feeling the prickle of great memories. I feel my phone buzz once again, so I check it quickly knowing it’s Mom.

  “Ok. I’ll tell him the two of you are working. He’ll be relieved.”

  I’m not sure I’ll be doing the type of work that Dad would approve of, but at least he’ll chill out a bit. I feel as if a weight has been lifted off me as we both sit down and dig into our meals. We both dig into them as if we were starving. “This is so good,” Kayla says after finally taking a breath. “I haven’t had this since the last time you made it for me. I think we were probably still in college.”

  “Yeah, it’s still something I only make when I’m out here. It’s so easy. All you have to do is make sure you don’t burn it.” After basically inhaling my meal, I get up to grab the bottle of champagne. “I’ll be right back with a refill,” I say, finishing off the last sip from my glass.

  “Why don’t we just use those wine glasses?” Kayla giggles. “These are so tiny.”

  “You’re reading my mind, baby,” I reply, heading in the door. Those little champagne flutes are fine if you’re just making a toast or for people who don’t really appreciate good champagne, but we need a couple of nice big glasses. I think back to when we used to steal a bottle of wine from my father’s wine fridge, and we would drink the entire thing in one sitting regardless of how big the bottle was. I still remember trying to force down a little brunch the morning after getting sick on my first bottle of dry red. I still shudder at the thought.

  Kayla comes through the door, tosses the napkins and foil scraps into the garbage, and sets the forks down on the counter. “Now that’s an efficient meal,” she comments, pointing to the two dirty forks.

  “I’ll show you efficiency,” I reply, walking over to the central control panel. “First, I click the Privacy button.” The shades begin to draw, and we hear the clicking of all the door and window locks. “Then I set the ambience to Cozy and watch.” The fireplace ignites and all the lights dim to a romantic glow.

  “Wow, that’s impressive,” she says with a glimmer in her eyes that I hadn’t seen before. I walk over to the closet and grab two blankets from the top shelf. I spread out one in front of the fireplace and set aside the second one in case we get cold. Not that we will actually need it. “Champagne, fuzzy blankets, and a toasty fire. I definitely like where this is going,” she coos as I return to her side.

  I set my glass on the countertop and slip around behind her. I glide my hands slowly up the length of her body until they are cupping her breasts. “I think you should go back to wearing bikinis,” I whisper while kissing the side of her neck.

  “I’m too old for a bikini,” she protests. “Women my age wear swimsuits, cover ups, and big hats.”

  “You look great in a big hat, but there is no reason
to cover any of this up.” I feel my cock wanting to burst from my swim trunks as it brushes against her backside. I have always loved everything about this girl, and the fact that this is happening at the same beach house where we spent so much time together is almost surreal. I slip my fingers under her shoulder straps and guide them down her arms. She shivers as my fingers glide across her skin. I grab the waistband of her suit and continue in one fluid motion, sliding it down her legs and onto the floor.

  “You’re not wasting any time,” she comments, a bit startled by my aggressiveness.

  “We have wasted more than enough time,” I reply before kissing my way back up her body and once again wrapping my arms around her. “You are as beautiful as ever,” I whisper in her ear, meaning every word. I begin to slowly walk forward, guiding her in front of the fire. The way the flicker of the flames dances across her skin is absolutely tantalizing.

  She turns toward me, her lips hungrily searching for mine. She doesn’t say a word, but her kiss speaks volumes. We have both been wanting this, needing this, but we have each had our reasons for not letting it happen. She bruised my ego years ago and does an incredible job helping me run the firm. In the heat of passion, however, nothing matters other than the fact that she is naked and in my arms. After several steamy seconds of passionate kissing, I pull back from her lips and kiss my way down her neck, dropping to one knee.

  I pull her already erect nipple between my lips and flick it with my tongue. She lets out an enthusiastic moan that tells me her perfect buds are not only round and perky, but also sensitive. They are every bit as perfect as I envisioned back when she wore those string bikinis. I want to make love to every square inch of this woman. I slip my fingers between her thighs as I continue to move between her breasts, giving each one equal attention. Her juices explode across my finger as I slip it between her smooth, slick lips. “Oh, fuck,” she groans as I continue to roll her nipples between my lips and tongue while running my finger up and down the length of her. Her clit rises against my fingertip as I begin to focus on it, rubbing intense circles around it with my slick finger. “Oh, my God,” she pants, her legs beginning to shake beneath her.