A Billionaire With Benefits

by Lena Skye

  “What is this?” she gasped.

  “What does it look like?” he said, impatiently.

  “You got me a credit card?”

  “Your credit score is fine, but you need a card with a higher limit.”

  The moment their “relationship” ended was the moment she would lose all the perks she didn’t want to get used to. Apparently, this came with the sex he demanded of her. She wondered how much the credit limit was and if this was another means of bullying her into submission.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” she murmured.

  “Buy something useful with it. Shop for coats, raincoats if you must. England’s weather is bipolar in some aspects.”

  “After work tomorrow, if I can get to the mall on time.”

  “You will if you leave on time.”

  “Justin?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  “This is all part of the contract. Don’t forget.”

  She would never forget, especially when everything he did was only for that frickin’ piece of paper that turned her into an object. A sex object to be exact.

  “Of course I won’t. Thanks again,” she said this as coldly as she could and she hated the sound of her voice without warmth.

  She wanted to go to England, to see London, and she got her wish. It was only a matter of a week, before she would actually step on British soil. First things first, however. She had to take care of that leave of absence. This was her chance and she would take it. Her blank passport would finally have a stamp after two years of ownership.

  Chapter8

  She couldn’t believe it. She was flying on a plane en route to London. She felt giddy, but she didn’t want to show it. Justin saw it all over her face, even if she said nothing. He had booked her on first class, three chairs away from him. She drank champagne in a single gulp, even if she said she was pathetic with liquor. He hoped she wouldn’t get drunk on her first international flight. He didn’t want a stomach show. That would be grossly embarrassing.

  Mikaela was doing this to fall asleep, knowing she wouldn’t be able to have a good conversation with Justin. He had purposefully kept her apart from him, to abide with the contract. That stupid contract. What was wrong with small talk? What was wrong with getting to know him better? This was eleven hours of sitting or lying down, and having pretty, well portioned meals with flowing drinks. She was beginning to get sleepy already.

  She eyed him from across the cabin, and saw he was in deep thought, his chin resting on one hand as he stared out into the sky. Maybe this was his form of quality time, his “me” time. It was something new to look at.

  He always moved about, he always had a say about things, and yet here he was, quiet and contemplating. She liked looking at his profile, his thin nose fit his CEO status well. It looked like he was a part of British royalty. He shifted and she looked away hastily, and she thought she would read a book until she fell asleep. She took out an introduction to anatomy, a small, frayed book she had gotten in a second hand shop.

  She shifted in her seat, liking the feel of her new outfits. From her blouse down to her shoes, everything was new. She shopped with hesitation. She had spent roughly $2,000 on clothes alone, plus two pieces of luggage and shoes. That totaled to around $4,800, money she could never earn in a week. When Justin called her to ask if she had gotten anything, she said she spent more than she could earn. He gently reminded her he was paying for this, and she felt even more indebted toward him.

  Justin was looking at her intently now, well aware she was staring at him the whole time. She had taken out a book, it seemed like a medical book and he rolled his eyes. Medicine didn’t mesh well with him. Louisa wanted to be a doctor, which he couldn’t understand for the life of him. It seemed he was the only one interested in their family business. This was his choice and he hoped Louisa would make a good one for her future. Beatrice wasn’t thinking too well about her future, jumping into the first proposal that sauntered her way.

  He wasn’t flying to England to stop the engagement, on the contrary. He was there to support it, even if he didn’t want to. In his thoughts, Beatrice was still that awkward teen that liked to collect tea sets and run barefoot in the grass. He wondered what his father would have thought about this and he hoped his father would think the same way as he did now.

  Now that Beatrice was engaged, he felt his mother would put in subtle hints that he was at that age to marry, that age to have children. He was in no mood for that, he was never in the mood for that. He liked his freedom; he didn’t want some nagging woman to leech off of his time. Money he didn’t care much about, money could be earned if you worked for it. Time, however, couldn’t be replaced.

  An hour later, he saw she had fallen asleep. He checked his emails on his MacBook, waiting for lunch hour. Leaving his office in Malibu wasn’t a big deal, the company had just closed in on a company he had been wanting to acquire. Now that he was majority shareholder, he felt confident about leaving the company to his subordinates, young and middle-aged individuals who were competent and loyal.

  They had similar characteristics to Mikaela when it came to work ethics. He wished he could hire her in the company, but she had far off dreams of becoming a nurse and staying in that homegrown café. He had also made her his exclusive “date.” He wouldn’t call them friends with benefits. Friends were familiar with each other’s attitudes. He couldn’t think of any other term for it, though.

  So we are friends with benefits, only I made a contract, he thought, and she’s getting more perks than she’ll probably ever have in her lifetime.

  Sex with Mikaela was mind-blowing. She was lithe and heavily involved in the act of doing it. She didn’t just lie there and make funny sounds to pass off as an orgasm. Nor did she roll to her side after the first round. Perhaps it came with being sexually deprived for a while. He had planned how he was going to have some, at least twice in the week that would follow. This was a long break and he wanted to utilize it well.

  ***

  Her heart beat faster the moment Justin’s car rolled up to Rosewood London. She was staring in awe from inside the car. The bleached façade of the hotel had tall, perfect columns, with beautiful warm lights, and tall windows. Everything she had seen from the inside of the car was gorgeous.

  Justin eyed her carefully. He knew she was ready to bolt out of the car and flop onto her bed. The journey had been her first long haul and he knew she was exhausted, even if she had carefully applied makeup before landing commenced. When the concierge greeted her she smiled back, a bit nervous, like she was about to commit a crime.

  He took it from there.

  “Honey, come on,” he said, with surprising warmth, holding out his arm.

  She hid her disbelief. Did he just call her honey? She slowly reached out to hold his arm, as a bellboy loaded her branded luggage onto a trolley. They walked up to the front desk, with its smiling receptionists and contemporary furnishings.

  Her room didn’t skimp on luxury, either.

  “This is my mother’s favorite suite, the Cupola,” he said, once the bellboy had left with a large tip in his hands.

  She stared at the expanse of the room for a full minute, then slowly started walking around, her hands touching the furniture and sheets delicately. She walked into the bathroom and saw a large marble tub with a vanity mirror.

  “I hope you brought a camera along. There’s a lot of picturesque places within the vicinity.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t really think about that.”

  “Well, what else are you going to post on Facebook?”

  “I don’t really have Facebook…” her voice trailed off as she looked at the street below her. It was bustling with people who were going home, people who rushed for dinner, and people who came from shopping. “It was Lynne’s.”

  His head cocked sideways. “Really now?”

  “Yes. I don’t have Instagram either.”

  He smiled. “I
nteresting. Well, you’re in luck. I do have a spare camera in hand.”

  He handed her a digital camera with nobs and buttons that she didn’t know what to do with and she stared at it for a moment. “What? It’s not going to bite you.”

  “I can’t hold that. That’s like really expensive.” It was more than her month’s wages, she was sure of it.

  “It’s just a camera. Just take care of it,” he told her.

  She took holding, holding it carefully, like she was holding a carton of eggs.

  “I’ll be leaving you now. I have to get to Kensington Gardens. You have a car at your disposal. Just call for concierge.”

  She had a car to go everywhere she wanted? He had given her a sim card for good measure as well, so he could contact her whenever he wanted to. There was a voice inside her head that wanted to tell him she wanted to meet his family. But as what? She watched him leave, bidding her a good night.

  No peck on the cheek, no hugs. Well, what did she expect? She was a contract, an entity that didn’t matter unless he wanted her to matter in his life. No emotions, she told herself. She would only get hurt, while he would get away scot-free. She mulled over this while soaking in the bathtub with floral water and bubbles, a bath any hardworking person deserved. She would treat this the way Lynne treated her dates.

  Just friends with benefits. We’re not even friends. How do I bridge that gap? If they could at least have some semblance of a good, working relationship, then she would feel less confused about it. So it could be a legitimate friends with benefits thing.

  She huffed and closed her eyes. Nothing should ruin this once-in-a-lifetime vacation, not even her thoughts, or his indifference.

  ***

  He arrived at past nine in the evening in front of a large brick and concrete home surrounded by trees and other luxury properties. He smiled to himself seeing their home was lit up for his arrival. The air smelled heavily of fallen flowers and he realized he missed this certain scent. He didn’t need to ring the doorbell. A maid answered the door for him.

  “Sir,” she began, “welcome back.”

  He motioned for his chauffeur to bring his luggage in, and he stepped into a home he hadn’t been in for six months.

  “Is he back?” a shrill voice called out. “Letty is my brother back?”

  Letty, their loyal maid for more than ten years, looked at Justin and smiled. “Yes he is, Miss Louisa,” she said in a not-so-loud voice.

  He heard the shuffling of feet running down the stairs. A brunette with wide eyes and a dimple on her left cheek stopped at the foot of the stairs.

  “Justin!” she cried out, enveloping her brother in a hug, all five feet two inches of her.

  Justin embraced her tightly, one of the rare displays of affection he did. “Well, look at you, I think you grew half a centimeter.”

  “Not funny, Jus.”

  “Where’s mum and Beatrice?”

  “Mum’s in the movie room, Beatrice is out on a date. Your bedroom’s ready, by the way,” she said, grabbing his hand. “Come.”

  He followed his sister’s lead to the theater room.

  “Louisa, did you bring in some chips—” his mother stopped midway and gasped, “Justin! You’re finally here!” She stood from her theater recliner, without bothering to pause the movie, nearly suffocating her son with her hugs and kisses.

  “Mum,” Justin said, “you’re choking me.”

  She let go and looked at her son, appraising him. “My, my, have you been eating well enough since you broke up with what was her name? Louisa, what was her name?”

  “Collins. That model,” Louisa chimed in.

  “We weren’t seriously dating. Where did you read this?”

  “The Sun,” Lydia Henderson told him.

  Justin shook his head. “That’s a tabloid, Mum.”

  “It was a fun read,” Lydia laughed.

  “You read gossip about your own son?”

  “Like I said, it’s fun.”

  “And it puts ideas in your head, Mum,” Justin told her.

  “Mum, shall I stop the movie?” Louisa asked.

  “Yes, yes, dear. Justin and I have a lot of catching up to do. Care for some red?” she asked her son.

  “It’s been a long day,” he began, but he stopped seeing his mother’s look. “Fine, maybe a glass or two.”

  They had wine at the patio, facing the other houses that lined the quiet street. Two of their four cars were parked outside by the curb. The air was cool and his mother expertly poured him a glass.

  “I hope you have time for us tomorrow. Well, the whole engagement proper isn’t until Thursday.”

  “I have to see the office tomorrow morning. Maybe in the afternoon?”

  “It’s been handled fine. You know I still oversee a few things.”

  “You don’t even like visiting the office.”

  “It’s not the only place I get to visit when I go,” Lydia said, referring to their meager thirty-five story building downtown, prime property that everyone wanted to snatch the moment other businessmen thought Henderson Steel would falter the moment Justin took over.

  “Why stay in America, though?”

  “Because we’re fairly new there,” Justin reasoned, “and I’m far away from those godforsaken paparazzi.”

  “You can always ignore them.”

  “I can’t relax or date anyone properly with those cameras and nosy reporters breathing down my neck.”

  “Speaking of media, there will be a few media on the engagement day.”

  “You turned this into some celebrity affair?” Justin began, “Mum—”

  “Hear me out first, Justin. First off he’s the son of the Leader of the House of Commons, so that’s to be expected. Second, his mother works as society columnist at the Daily UK, that’s expected too.”

  Justin sighed. He had wished for a low key engagement party. He had nearly forgotten that his sisters were socialites, although he hated the term. It couldn’t be helped, they were a prominent family, after all. For all he knew, Mrs. Murray was in on it, writing articles about him and his billionaire lifestyle. The paparazzi were lenient on his sisters though, and for that he was glad. Perhaps it was because they were low key, and didn’t like partying much in public. The media liked it when one made public disturbances and embarrassments. He dated a lot of women, and according to some claims “broke a lot of hearts.”

  “Which hotel?” he asked immediately.

  “Rosewood London.”

  Great, he thought. “Couldn’t you have found a newer place?”

  “I happen to be comfortable with Rosewood, and so do the Murrays. Beatrice was all for it, too.”

  Justin knew this was going to be some high tea session, with a professional photographer and knolls of flowers from Lydia’s garden for ambience. He knew he would not spare any expense for this, seeing how his family was richer than the Murrays. The Murrays had to know who they were dealing with, and Justin would send this off as a subtle warning.

  He nodded, knowing there was no way out of this. “All right. Any arrangements I need to make?

  “All taken care of. Why would you spend a measly week with us just to plan an engagement party?”

  “I thought there were certain funds needed.”

  His mother laughed. “Darling, you may be the CEO, but I’m the mother of the CEO.”

  “I’ll have our lawyers draw up the necessary paperwork.”

  “For what?”

  “The prenuptial agreements.”

  “That’s unnecessary.”

  “How can it be unnecessary?”

  “Bea wishes for none of it.”

  “What?” He was aghast.

  Lydia shrugged. “She’ll come to her senses soon enough. Your father and I were mad for each other, yet even we had our prenuptials.”

  Justin felt annoyed. This wasn’t a good thing. While they were a private entity, who knows what magic these Murrays could do? Gregory was a star pupil, he
recalled, so his smarts had to amount to something. Beatrice wasn’t scholarly, but she was one of the kindest persons who graced the planet, atop of her loveliness. He hoped Gregory wouldn’t take advantage of it. Justin would push for a prenup, after the engagement party.

  Situations like that always called for a contract. Then he thought about Mikaela for a moment. Well, that one—that was a different story. He drank his remaining wine in a single gulp and breathed in the cool air, hoping for something good to come out of all of this.

  Chapter9

  She woke up with a smile on her face. These bedsheets were the nicest she’d ever slept in since… Justin’s penthouse. She shook her head. Today was going to be a fun day. She had no itinerary, but she thought to explore the nearby areas first. She rang for room service and while she was in her bathrobe, searching for places to explore, a butler came with a traditional British breakfast, tea included. She smiled, thanking the butler and grabbing her camera as soon as he had left. This had to go down in her history as her first all-British breakfast.

  She had never tried black pudding before, that with eggs and sausages. She took a bite of the black pudding and nodded to herself while chewing. That was interesting, even if it looked unappetizing. She had planned her itinerary as soon as she had finished most of her breakfast.

  Today, it was going to be at the British Museum, the Royal Opera House (what was there? She was almost sure there weren’t any shows in the morning), and a walk along the river Thames. Then she would decide where to eat and maybe shop a little if she wasn’t too tired.

  Mikaela was quite excited. The weather app had said it would be a maximum of seventeen degrees today, with the possibility of rain. She was glad she had bought a portable umbrella and a fashionable raincoat. She wore skinny jeans, a loose light pink sweater and brown leather boots. Her trusty backpack from her college years was ready as well, with its frayed straps and distressed look, which definitely wasn’t intentional.