Bound by the Billionaire

by Aurora, Lexi

  All of that came to a screeching, sobering halt when I encountered William Sarajevo. He shouldn’t have been a threat. He was a short, scrawny, simpering man worth about seventy-five thousand dollars… we’d had our lawyers look into that, of course. The guy claimed that in the 1500s, my great-to-the-fortieth-power-grandfather stole an entire shipment of rare goods from him, and the profits that went with it. Obviously I wasn’t going to read them, but the lawyers checked every detail of his 70-page claim, and they said he might have a legitimate case. His whole selling point was that Old Grandpa Oliver – Olivier back then – was responsible for the merchant Sarajevo’s bankruptcy, and the stolen goods were used to build up a family fortune that’s now fallen on us.

  Fan-fucking-tastic, naturally. William Sarajevo says he’s got proof, so we had to get better proof. And that is how I ended up standing in the JFK Airport, holding a sign that read Quinnes in fancy script, wearing jeans, sneakers, a hoodie, and a surgeon-style face mask. Since most of the country only knew what I looked like in the sexiest of Armani suits or, as I wasn’t too ashamed to admit, mostly nude, I hoped this would grant me the anonymity I needed.

  Twenty minutes ticked by, and I was getting tense. Just as the security guards looked like they were coming to have a few words with me, I saw Scarlett Quinnes walking towards me, her face neutral and her walk poised and focused.

  “Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Scarlett Quinnes. I assume you are my driver?” She was looking at the mask with uncertainty, but didn’t seem too bothered by it, though she opted out of any kind of handshake.

  “Something like that,” I muttered. Her hazel eyes flashed in recognition when she heard my voice, and a smug smile began to worm its way over her mouth.

  “Let’s go, please, I’ll discuss it in the car.” Without saying anything else, I grasped the handle of her suitcase and marched towards the door. She still had her scholarly satchel over her body, and held onto it as she jogged in sturdy black heels to keep up with me.

  To her credit, she reached the car only seconds after I did, and refrained from saying anything to me until I’d shoved the suitcase into the trunk and took my spot in the driver’s side. She’d already made herself comfortable riding shotgun, messing with my seat adjustments to accommodate her smaller frame.

  “Make yourself at home,” I said, taking off the mask. She turned to me, and I saw her expression change rapidly, twice. The first was a face I was used to seeing; what can I say? I inherited some great genes from decades of trophy wives as well as the money from their wealthy husbands. But Scarlett took great care to wipe the look of an admiring woman off her face as soon as she gathered herself.

  “Well, we need proper introductions,” she said, fastening her seatbelt. She stuck out her hand, and I was surprised at how firm her grip was. “Doctor Scarlett Quinnes, historian.”

  “Mr. Adrian Oliver,” I replied, raising an eyebrow ever-so-slightly. “Most enticing playboy you’ll ever meet. Probably the richest, too.”

  She scoffed. “We’ll see about that last part in a month.”

  I had to admit I was a little surprised, by two things. First, this woman wasn’t pulling any punches with me, which wasn’t something I was too used to. Second, she was much prettier than I’d imagined she’d be. I knew the basics about her, but I hadn’t actually seen any pictures. And between the black blouse, gray checkered pencil skirt, black heels, tortoiseshell glasses, and long, brunette ponytail, she gave off a sexy-librarian vibe like no other.

  The immediate understanding of those two thoughts led me to another conclusion. She was coming off kind of frigid, but damn, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider having sex with her. It was one of those thoughts you just have, like, “I’m gonna run this red light” or “I’m going to Ibiza for the next two weeks and nobody better call me.” It just passed through my mind like a clear understanding: I want this woman.

  But I had a feeling that if it wasn’t in her job description, she wasn’t interested. But, of course, that could change. And when it comes to me, it usually does.

  Chapter Three

  SCARLETT

  I certainly hadn’t expected Adrian Oliver to drive himself to the airport, much less drive me back to his family’s estate. I figured the Olivers were the kind of people who owned property in every U.S. territory, so I wasn’t surprised to hear they had a grand, rustic cottage-type house in upstate New York. I asked a few questions during the drive, making sure to space them out a little so there wouldn’t be one long, awkward silence.

  Adrian answered them all in a tone that always sounded like he was teasing me, like he knew more than I did… which might have been true in some aspects, but damn it, I had a PhD, and I had to remind myself of that a few times. Especially when I caught him looking at me out of the corner of his eye, licking his lips when my gaze met his, and when I could tell he was subtly trying to impress me when he showed off all the Porsche’s features, as though it weren’t enough that the car itself was a Porsche.

  An hour into the drive, I started to relax a little. I was starting to really comprehend that I was in a luxury car with a gorgeous billionaire, but I also reconciled myself with the fact that he was just a person, at the end of it all. And without me, this golden boy could easily fall from grace along with his mother and sister.

  I kept these thoughts going on a loop through my brain as we arrived at the Oliver family’s piece of New York real estate. I had only just gotten used to Adrian’s presence when suddenly, butlers in nicer clothes than any of the professors at the university ever wore to work were taking my bags from the car, offering me drinks, and helping me up the front stairs.

  I felt too rushed and unprepared for my assignment, but just before we walked into the foyer, Adrian stood next to me, grinned, and offered me his arm. I didn’t hesitate in taking it; despite our brief acquaintanceship, there was at least something mildly familiar about him.

  “Relax your shoulders.” He leaned down –I was a good deal shorter than he was– and put his mouth far too close to my ear. His warm breath tickled the side of my neck while he murmured the words at me, keeping his eyes on the front entrance as it was opened for us by two doormen. It took all I had not to shiver visibly at the sensations, and I gave him a smile that I hoped didn’t look as uneasy as it felt.

  He led me into the foyer and further into the house, and just as we reached a gleaming wooden staircase, a dark-haired figure appeared at the top and hurried down to meet us.

  “Hi, I’m Alison Oliver.” She took my hand and shook it with enthusiasm. “I’m Adrian’s older sister.”

  “I’m Scarlett Quinnes,” I replied. She, like Adrian, was a nearly-flawless human being. They both shared the same jet-black hair with blue eyes, but hers were a light blue-gray while his were dark and almost indigo. She was sharply dressed in navy trousers and a blazer over a crisp, white blouse, with practical and stylish white heels on her feet. And when she took in the sight of her younger brother, she glared.

  “Adrian, is that-” Alison gestured loosely to Adrian’s entire outfit, “-really the impression you want to make on our guest?”

  “You sent the jester to represent the court, what did you expect?” Adrian was not even remotely intimidated by Alison, and walked right past her when their mother came into the room, bumping her with his shoulder.

  While Alison had a formidable, take-charge air about her, Teresa Oliver seemed more a figurehead, like the Queen of England. She didn’t seem to have much real power –that was all mostly Alison– but she did many public appearances and charity events to represent their good name. She had been married four times, giving birth to Adrian and Alison later in life with her second husband, the original Mr. Oliver. He’d passed away a few years prior to my introduction to the family, but from what I understood, Teresa’s subsequent marriages had all failed rather quickly. She refused to change her name when the father of her children died, and if the men had married her for her money, they hadn’t seen mu
ch of it. Rumors had circulated a few times that Adrian, at nineteen, punched his first stepfather in the face after seeing the man give Teresa an ultimatum regarding money and their marriage. This had only endeared the public to him more as they dubbed him a rich bad-boy with a heart of gold and soft spot for his mother.

  Right.

  “Doctor Quinnes, lovely to meet you, thank you for your willingness to work with us and for coming out on such short notice.” Teresa Oliver spoke rapidly, as though at any moment I might interject and inform her that something she was so happy about was incorrect. She shook my hand with a vigor that surprised me coming from a rather frail-looking woman.

  “I – oh, yes, of course. You’re quite welcome.” Before I could say anything else, Teresa was pouncing on me again.

  “You must be tired from your flight. And that drive! We’ll get you something drink, something to eat, and perhaps you’d like to take a quick cat-nap upstairs, hmm? It’s no problem, take your time, we want you to be comfortable, after all, you’re here doing us a favor-”

  “Mom.” Adrian spoke the single word firmly, in a voice that commanded everyone’s attention. It was the same voice that had gripped me over the phone. With the added visual of the man in front of me, holding an unlit cigarette between his teeth, it was almost too much for my senses to handle at once.

  “I think you’re freaking Scarlett out a little.” I noticed he didn’t add my title to it, or address me by my last name. If it was some kind of power play –I knew these rich types were famous for that – he would have to try a little harder.

  “Don’t worry yourself, Adrian, I can handle myself quite alright,” I answered smoothly, only feeling less self-assured when he looked up at me without raising his head, his eyes glimmering with the smile his lips didn’t hold while he raised the lighter to a cigarette.

  “Adrian!” Alison barked out his name. “Smoke that outside, for God’s sake. You know I can’t stand tobacco.”

  “Sure thing.” Adrian sauntered away towards the door, and I had a feeling that his smoking was, in this instance, just a convenient way to get out of negotiations. Before he closed the front door behind him, he glanced from his mother, to me, to Alison, and took a drag. “And, Alison, don’t worry. It’s not tobacco.”

  Chapter Four

  ADRIAN

  I had a laugh at my sister’s expense as I stepped outside with my joint. Scarlett had looked on in confusion while my mother just seemed tired, like she’d come to expect it. What I smoked was a pretty weak strain, and I’d only recently taken the habit back up again outside of a “party” environment in order to alleviate the building stress. But no one else needed to know that.

  I stayed outside for a while, eventually using the back door to come in the house again, which allowed me to get up to my rooms without seeing anyone else already there, minus a few disinterested butlers. I slipped into my bathroom, shedding my shabby “civilian” clothes and getting into a hot shower. If only for my own amusement, I thought of Scarlett while I lathered shampoo into my hair and let the suds run down my body.

  I wondered how much she’d seen of me before this. Did she ever see those pictures of me, naked, that had been floating around for a while from when I went to Monaco? Surely, she must have some idea of what I looked like undressed. I’d done a few Calvin Klein shoots in the past, and my bare chest had been plastered over a number of billboards across the world for a while.

  That could be a good jumping off point. It leaves us in a rather unsatisfactory position, Doctor. You see, you know much more about me than I do about you. We’ll get to know each other better over some Bombay Sapphire over ice; clothing is optional but strongly discouraged. What made the idea even more exciting to me was the knowledge that outside of the fantasy, Scarlett would almost certainly never entertain the idea of taking me up on the offer. But the fantasy was another story. It continued in my head as I stepped out of the shower, drying off with no real rush.

  She flushed, her hair loose around her shoulders and glasses slipping down her nose. “Mr. Oliver, please, I’m just here on business…” She would protest weakly, of course, but her hands would already be working at the buttons of her blouse, mine coming up quickly to help her…

  There was a knock on the bathroom door that startled me from the daydream seconds before I could decide what kind of bra Scarlett would wear, and how I would subsequently take it off. I tucked my towel in front of me, just enough to cover the important parts, knowing it was probably Alison coming to scold me for any number of wrongdoings I’d committed in the past twenty-four hours. The list was long, and even then, those were only the ones she knew about.

  I opened the door halfway, ready to match whatever snarky comment my sister was about to make, and stopped dead in my tracks when the eyes looking back up at me were definitely not my sister’s.

  “Ohmygod, ohmygod, I’m so sorry,” Scarlett mumbled, turning her reddening face away from me and towards the floor.

  I was both aroused and horrified when I saw her – she looked so much like she had in my fantasy. Her hair had been partially let down, her face was covered in a warm pink blush, and her glasses were slowly sliding down her face as she strived to look anywhere but at me. The cool, collected vibe she’d had going on earlier was completely gone now, and it was this look at her raw vulnerability that made her even sexier to me.

  Knowing that someone so intelligent and self-assured could also be reduced to a sexually-excited mess by me only strengthened my desire for her. It suddenly became a kind of predator/prey dynamic in my mind… in the short while we’d known each other, our mutual attraction had become blatantly obvious, and we’d already switched positions in the dynamic more than once. Now, we were on my territory, but I knew Scarlett wouldn’t be backing down so easily. All the more reason for a chase. I hadn’t had a good one of those in quite a while.

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who’s indecent here.” I opened the door a little further, letting more steam out of the bathroom. The cold air from the hall hit my skin, sending a shiver down my spine and causing me to grip the doorframe harder.

  “I was, um, I was looking for the room, fourth on the left, Alison said…” Scarlett stumbled over her words, unable to meet my eyes.

  “Yeah, no, that’s one door further down that way,” I said nonchalantly, gesturing towards the proper room. I leaned against the doorframe, keeping the towel in front of me, but letting it fall a little lower, so Scarlett could see the sharp “V” of my hips meeting my torso. Water droplets made tracks down my firm abs, collecting when they hit the towel, and Scarlett looked anywhere but at me.

  “Oh, right, I didn’t see that door there on the…” Scarlett cleared her throat, collected herself, and straightened up a little. She forced her gaze onto my face, locking her eyes with mine so she wasn’t tempted to look anywhere else.

  I smirked. “So, how’d it go down there?” My wording was completely intentional, but Scarlett held her ground with me.

  “Your family is lovely,” she said. “I can’t figure out what might’ve happened to you.”

  “It’s usually just the men,” I shrugged. “We can’t help ourselves.”

  “Seems a pathetic excuse for being a jerk.” Scarlett crossed her arms over her chest and stood with a hip jutted out to one side, her eyebrow raised. “Anyway, that really doesn’t matter. I hope you’re prepared for an early morning tomorrow.”

  I groaned. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m more a fan of late nights. Did you know things actually heat up a lot when the sun goes down?” I leaned closer to her. “Does your job even give you a chance to learn that? Do you give yourself a chance?”

  “I know plenty,” she snapped. “I know we’ll be making our way back to the airport tomorrow. I know we’re catching an 8 a.m. flight to Barcelona, Spain. I know that I’m stuck with you for the next few days while I get to the bottom of what looks to be a trade deal gone wrong.” The more she spoke, the angrier she
sounded.

  “What? Why do I have to go?”

  “That’s as good a question as any, considering you’re pretty much useless.” Scarlett was getting her footing back with me. “But your lawyers insist that someone from the family accompany me, and it can’t be your mother or your sister. They actually have jobs.”

  “And I don’t? I mean, I’ve been reduced to a babysitter?”

  “Well, if even half of what your mother says about your affinity for a good Spanish red is true, I doubt you’ll be the one left feeling like a babysitter.” She stepped closer to me, and I knew she could feel the heat radiating off my still-wet skin.

  “Just remember.” She lowered her voice in a way that I assume she meant to be threatening, but only served to turn me on faster than I could comprehend. “This is business to me. This is my job, my career. I have worked too long and too hard to get here for some spoiled prince to jeopardize it. I clawed my way up to the top, fighting sexism, doubt, and everyone’s preconceived notions of me.” At this, she faltered, realizing she might be revealing too much, but she recovered and continued. “All of that may mean nothing to you, but it is everything to me. And I swear to you, if I suspect for one minute you might put my livelihood at risk, I will catch the first flight back home and leave you to figure this mess out on your own.”

  I was holding the towel with a looser grip, and it was coming dangerously close to not covering anything. But I was staring into Scarlett’s eyes, watching the fire burn inside them match her fierce promise, and the rest of the world was only background noise to me. I stepped closer to her, and though I could have towered over her, I didn’t want to appear intimidating. I just wanted her to know I was serious about what I said, and of course ready to have sex with her at a moment’s notice.