Secrets With the Billionaire

by Noelle Keaton

  “Not a good one.” Tim lifted Connor’s chin with his index finger, forcing them to look each other in the eye. “I’m not proud of ducking out, and I apologize for doing so. I was scared that if I stuck around until you woke up, I would see regret or remorse in your eyes, and I didn’t know if I could handle it.”

  Connor took his hand and kissed it. “I don’t have any regrets and feel no remorse. When I woke up alone, I thought you were the one who had second thoughts about what happened. I’m glad to see that’s not the case.”

  Tim leaned over and kissed Connor lightly on the lips. “Does that seem like I have any second thoughts? Except maybe about when we can get together like that again.”

  Connor’s eyes lit up with a desire that reflected his own. “Come by my room tonight and let’s try it again.”

  “The interview, or what came after?”

  “Both.” Connor gave his thigh an intimate squeeze and stood, leaving a twenty-dollar bill underneath his glass. “How about eight again? I’ll text you the PIN code this time so there shouldn’t be any delay in you coming to me.”

  Tim’s stomach did cartwheels as he watched Connor walk away. Could he really be making this much progress in both his professional and personal life? While he didn’t want to get his hopes up, Tim had a feeling he was about to get lucky on both counts.

  Chapter Six

  “While developing original content is something we’re hoping to do more of in the future, Albright Software Media’s focus will always be on creating and improving the technology that delivers such content to our customers.”

  Connor took a quick look at his watch as he answered Tim’s question. He’d been doing this interview for close to two hours, well past the forty-five minutes he’d originally allotted for it. However, Tim was a skillful reporter, able to ask open-ended questions that made Connor talk and reveal a lot more than he’d intended.

  Connor had hoped he’d been discreet in his checking the time, but apparently, he hadn’t.

  “Is our time up?”

  “We’ve been at this for two hours. I don’t know what more you can ask me.”

  “Lots.” Tim’s mouth curved into a winsome smile. “However, I have more than enough for the article I intend to write. I appreciate your candor in talking about your heart attack and recovery. I know it wasn’t easy.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Connor said in a terse voice. “I’m still not certain whether this is even any of the general public’s business. However, if I had to talk about it, I’m glad it was with you. I’ve looked up some of your other work, and none of it is too sensational or tabloid.”

  “Thanks… I think.” Tim laughed, but it sounded a bit forced.

  Connor reached across the coffee table where they sat in the suite’s living room and squeezed Tim’s hand. “I didn’t mean any offense. I truly respect your work.”

  “Do you?” Tim’s face glowed.

  Connor nodded. “I was particularly impressed by that exposé you did on the deputy mayor funneling city construction contracts to holding companies owned by his brother-in-law. It’s amazing how you ferreted out the family connections despite all the accounting and financial schemes they put up to hide it.”

  “Yeah, I’m really proud of the article. I thought with all the attention and praise it received, it would make me a star and take my career to the next level, but here I still am.” Tim shrugged.

  “Is that what you think an article about me will do? Take your career to the next level?”

  Tim nodded, and Connor couldn’t help but admire his honesty. “I enjoy working at the Chronicle, but I’ve always thought by now I’d be working at a place with a larger platform and readership. This interview with you will go a long way to helping me get there.”

  “You really think this one interview will have that big of an effect on your career?”

  When Tim nodded again, Connor felt a pang of conscience. More than likely, his general counsel would put the kibosh on the article and it would never see the light of day. Connor understood Tim’s ambition and desire to get ahead, but he couldn’t let it happen at the expense of Albright Software Media.

  Eager to rid himself of the unease and confusion he suddenly felt, Connor asked, “What made you get into journalism? Are you following in your mother’s or father’s footsteps?”

  Tim snorted. “Hell, no. My mother is a homemaker and my father runs a medical supply company he inherited from his father. They wanted me to join the business with my older brother, but business and economics courses in college bored me silly. I’ve always liked to write, so I joined the college newspaper, and that’s when I knew I wanted to make a career of it.”

  “Doesn’t the possibility of newspapers becoming obsolete give you pause? Instead of continuing to pursue stories in hopes of a more prestigious or popular newspaper, shouldn’t you be focusing on another career path where you can use the same skill set?”

  “People are always going to want to know what’s going on in the world, and they are always going to seek out a source or medium that will provide that information. Even if newspapers eventually go the way of the dinosaur, there will be other platforms or conduits through which the information will be transmitted. The shape and form of journalism might change, but the need for it will always be there.”

  There’s no way I’m going to be able to get him to voluntarily lay off the story, Connor thought glumly. There was too much at stake for Tim not to write the article, but there was also too much at stake for Connor to let it be published. They were two side of one extremely conflicted coin.

  Tim stood and joined Connor on the sofa and stroked Connor’s thigh. “Hey, I didn’t mean to jump on my soap box and start preaching.”

  “It’s okay. I like hearing how excited you are about your career. I want to get to know you better, and it sounds like your job is a big part of who you are.”

  “That’s not the only thing that excites me. Far from it.” Tim’s caresses grew bolder and moved closer to Connor’s crotch, where an erection had already begun to form.

  “Glad to hear it,” Connor said as Tim unzipped his pants and sank to his knees. It amazed Connor how quick he could get hard from Tim’s touch. He leaned back and arched as Tim licked the slit at the tip of his cock and then sucked at the precum that had started to form. He buried his fingers in Tim’s silky brown hair and tightened his grip when Tim’s warm, wet mouth took more and more of his dick.

  “You taste so good,” Tim mumbled in between licking and sucking.

  “Hope I taste as good as you make me feel.” Connor moaned louder when Tim’s tongue lashed over the tip of his cock. “I’m going to come right here and now if you do that again.”

  “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Tim’s eyes turned mischievous and he licked Connor’s cock from base to tip.

  Connor’s breath grew ragged as his dick pulsated in rhythm with the motion of Tim’s tongue. He wanted to lie back, close his eyes, and float away to paradise, but his hips had other ideas. As if by their own volition, they arched and Connor thrust his cock into Tim’s mouth. Faster and faster, Connor ruthlessly fucked Tim’s face.

  “This… feels so… incredible,” Connor managed before the rapid pace and intense pressure resulted in an explosive orgasm. He tried to pull out, but Tim remained stubbornly in place, gripping his thighs tightly and swallowing every spurt of cum Connor released.

  Out of breath, he took Tim into his arms, holding him while he waited for the room to stop spinning. Once it did, he scooted off the sofa to perform the same act on Tim, but Tim clung to him, not allowing him to move.

  “Stay here,” Tim murmured. “I just want to be held.”

  Connor slid his hand between Tim’s legs and massaged the massive erection he found there. “So, what are we going to do about this?”

  Tim snuggled deeper into the embrace. “It’s not going anywhere, and neither am I.”

  “Perfect,” Connor said, realizing there was
no place on earth he’d rather be either.

  ****

  A week later, Connor stood in his corner office of Albright Software Media’s Philadelphia headquarters, staring out over a skyline crowded with skyscrapers. He heard a knock on his door, followed by Dan’s voice. “You wanted to see me?”

  Connor nodded without turning around. “I’ve changed my mind about pressuring the Chronicle to kill the article about me. Go ahead and let them publish it.”

  “Oh boy,” Dan said. Connor heard the door close and could tell from his footsteps that Dan was heading over to the bar. “May I ask what brought this on?”

  No, you may not, Connor wanted to tell him. However, Dan was a close friend as well as a loyal employee. He trusted Dan’s judgment implicitly and had never been anything but candid and honest with him. However, that didn’t mean he needed to tell Dan everything that happened on the island. “I got to know the reporter who did the interview and was very impressed by him,” Connor said, trying to sound as neutral as he could, despite the words of praise. “Canceling the article might negatively impact his career.”

  Connor heard the clink of ice and the splash liquid being poured into a glass before Dan said, “So what if it does?”

  “I don’t want that to happen. Tim’s a nice guy who deserves a break.”

  “Let him find it somewhere else. We are on the verge of acquiring Scrap Vook, a deal that has the potential of making Albright Software Media one of the largest software media companies in the world.”

  Scrap Vook was an Internet-startup-turned-media-phenomenon that allowed users to upload and share short videos they’d created. Unlike YouTube, Scrap Vook users could integrate other users’ videos into their own to create a wholly new video. The popularity of the site derived from the simplicity and ease with which this could be done. Though Scrap Vook was a natural fit for Albright Software Media, it still had taken months to arrive at an agreement in which Albright would acquire the company. Connor couldn’t wait to see what resulted from the combination of Scrap Vook’s creative possibilities with his company’s state-of-the-art technological advances. Above all else, this deal had to go through.

  As if reading his thoughts, Dan said, “It can all fall apart if the Scrap Vook people think you’re not healthy enough to take the helm and supervise the merging of the two companies.”

  “I told the Scrap Vook CEO and the two founders about my heart attack myself. Nothing I’ve said in the article should come as a surprise to them.”

  “Maybe not to them, but it probably will to their shareholders. These Scrap Vook kids are what, twenty-two, twenty-three? They are eager to take the money we’re throwing at them, especially since they get to hang around since we aren’t forcing them out. But the Scrap Vook shareholders will probably take a dim view of their founders no longer being in charge. We need to handle that before we spring the news that you had a heart attack and a quadruple bypass.”

  Connor turned and faced Dan for the first time. “But I’m healthy now. My cardiologist gave me a clean bill of health just two days ago. I’m in perfect shape to handle the acquisition and oversee the merger.”

  Dan shrugged. “You and I know that, but you how little it takes to rattle shareholders and upend deals. Remember that bank CEO from a couple of years ago? He was overseeing a merger that would have made him the head of the third-largest bank in the country before he announced he’d been diagnosed with prostate cancer. All of a sudden, the deal fell apart, even though the CEO’s doctors caught it so early the guy didn’t even need chemo.”

  “Yeah, I remember how anxious-shareholder hysteria killed the deal, even though it would have made everyone a lot of money.” Connor frowned. “I don’t want that to happen to this deal.”

  “Neither do I. That’s why we need to stop this Chronicle article in its tracks. They can’t publish that interview now or everything will fall apart.”

  “Stop exaggerating,” Connor said, but he recognized the seriousness of the situation. “What if we negotiate with the Chronicle and get them to hold off on publishing it until after the acquisition is finalized?” Connor knew Tim would be disappointed by the delay, but at least he would eventually get the attention and prestige he hoped the article would bring.

  Dan shook his head. “The Scrap Vook people have an in with The Wall Street Journal. That’s who I think should do the interview with you about your heart attack. I already have it on good authority that the reporter will deemphasize the health crisis and focus on all the advances that will result from our acquisition of Scrap Vook.”

  Ordinarily, Dan’s reassurance would have thrilled Connor. The less anyone knew about his health, the better. However, he realized going to The Wall Street Journal would be stabbing Tim in the back. Though their relationship―Connor didn’t know whether it could even be called that yet―was new, he cared enough for Tim that he didn’t want to see him hurt.

  Dan must have seen the doubt on his face, because he said, “I’m sure this Tim McInerny laid it on thick for you while you two were in Cedros. ‘I’m a new kid on the block, this is my big break,’ blah, blah, blah. I know you’re a sucker for that kind of thing, but don’t be taken in. There’s too much at stake here.”

  Connor didn’t particularly care for being called a sucker. However, it was better than admitting he’d slept with Tim. “I know what’s at stake. So be it. Cancel the interview with the Chronicle. Let’s proceed with the one with the Journal after the acquisition is completed.”

  Don nodded, his approval apparent. “You’re doing the right thing, Connor. This is what’s best for Albright Software Media.”

  But is it what’s best for Tim and me? Connor asked himself, knowing the answer was a resounding no before he’d even finished the question.

  Chapter Seven

  Tim whistled and all but had a bounce in his step as he knocked on the door to one of the Chronicle’s conference rooms. He’d turned in the final draft of his profile on Connor Albright the night before and received nothing but praise from Matt. “You’re going to be a rock star when this comes out,” he predicted.

  But today, Matt’s subdued voice told him to come in. Tim entered to find him slumped in his chair, frowning, while Shelby, the Chronicle’s publisher, sat across from him with an equally somber expression. Tim closed the door, sensing this would be a conversation he wouldn’t necessarily want his colleagues to overhear.

  “Hi, Tim, thanks for coming. Have a seat.” Shelby gestured at the chairs across from her, and Tim took the one next to Matt. With the two of them sitting together facing Shelby, it seemed like they should have had the advantage of two against one. But from the straight, rigid posture she maintained in her seat, to the firm set of her jaw, there was no question as to Shelby’s being in control.

  Shelby clasped her hands. “First of all, let me congratulate you on a brilliantly written article. I’ve always admired your work and your talent really shines through here.”

  “Thank you.” Tim raised a wary eyebrow, sensing a but coming up.

  “Unfortunately, the Connor Albright profile is not something we can publish at this time. Now, rest assured, this is not a reflection on you or your work. It’s just that the article isn’t compatible with the direction the Chronicle is taking now.”

  Isn’t compatible with the direction the Chronicle is taking now? Tim repeated the words to himself, but they still didn’t make any sense. “I don’t understand. Connor Albright hasn’t had a sit-down like this with a reporter in the last three years. He usually only talks through flacks. How is this interview with one of the richest and most powerful men in the country not compatible with the Chronicle? I mean, we are still in business to attract readers, right?”

  Tim was vaguely aware he was ranting, but he couldn’t help himself. “If we get more readers, we sell more ads. Isn’t that what you’re always telling the ad department, and they, in turn, harp on us about? A Connor Albright profile should be very compatible in that regard.”


  He wasn’t sure whether Shelby was listening, since her expression had remained the same. However, the way she nodded and softened her jaw seemed to indicate she’d taken it all in. “I can certainly understand your disappointment. Matt has made clear to me how much time and dedication you put into this interview. However, publishing the interview simply isn’t feasible right now. I hope you understand.”

  “I don’t.” Tim glanced over at Matt, who looked as bewildered and frustrated as he felt. “Why wasn’t I told earlier there would be a problem? It’s not like I started working on this yesterday. You’ve had the better part of a month to let me know there might be some sort of conflict.”

  For the first time, Shelby looked uncomfortable. “To be honest, there wasn’t a problem until very recently. But all you need to know is that the situation has changed, and your article won’t be published.”

  “Bullshit,” Tim snapped. “You really think you can get away with saying something like that to a reporter? What’s the real story? I think I have a right to know.”

  Shelby’s jaw tightened again. “Very well, but I expect you both to keep this in strictest confidence. The Pickering Media Group has recently closed a sale for a significant group of ad buys from the Albright Software Media Corporation and several of its subsidiaries.”

  Shit. Tim knew the involvement of the Chronicle’s parent company meant his article was as good as dead. Or maybe not. Though he’d made a private vow to keep his work separate from his relationship with Connor, this was an emergency. Connor couldn’t possibly know that some overeager PR flacks in his company had squelched the interview. He’d talk to Connor, and then Connor would tell the PR flacks to lift the ban. It will be okay.

  However, to Shelby, he made a show of compliance. “I’m very disappointed, but these things happen. I’m sure the new contract pleases the advertising department. In the long run, I know this deal is to the benefit of the Chronicle’s overall financial health.”