Lover Wanted: A Billionaire Boss Romance

by Rylee Swann

  I still can’t find my voice.

  But my head springs to life, shaking violently back and forth.

  He pulls on his jeans, then his t-shirt goes over his head. “Man, you should see some of the ads. You know some guy even advertises for women to fuck him while someone else watches? Fucking crazy.”

  I’ve never heard him curse so much.

  I find my voice.

  “Get out.”

  It’s a weak whisper, but at least it’s something.

  “Aw, Kim, c’mon. You don’t understand.”

  “Get out.”

  Stronger, better.

  “Get the fuck out!”

  “Kim. Please let me explain. There’s more to this than me just being married. I—”

  “Get out, get out, get out, get out!” Now that I’ve found my voice, I can’t stop. “Get out!”

  He sighs, shoves his feet into his sneakers and gets out.

  I’m alone.

  Devastated.

  Drowning.

  I start to cry, and it’s a long, long time before I stop.

  I look down and see that the cell phone Michael gave me is in my hand. I don’t know how it got there, but I’m grateful for it. His is the only voice I want to hear.

  We’ve already spoken once since the incident. He asked if I was okay, told me again how sorry he was about everything, and hung up.

  It was awkward.

  I hadn’t told him I was seeing someone. It wasn’t his business, but the way he found out wasn’t the best.

  And now.

  Now I’m not seeing anyone.

  Funny how that goes.

  But I’m sure as fuck not laughing.

  I pause for only a fraction of a second and then hit his speed dial number.

  I sob into the phone as it rings. I haven’t stopped crying yet, can’t seem to stem the flow of tears. I don’t think I want to.

  Aren’t tears supposed to be cleansing?

  CHAPTER 25

  Michael

  I’m sitting in a booth across from Jack in a local Long Beach bar, nursing my second beer. I’m pacing myself so I don’t get sick too soon. I plan on getting very drunk tonight. Can’t stand up by myself, don’t know my phone number drunk. Jack’s promised to pour me into a cab when it’s time to go.

  “It’s not the end of the world,” Jack says.

  “No? She works for me, man. At a job a woman like her wouldn’t want to write home about. And then I almost get her raped. Fuck. What an asshole I am.”

  “Stop beating yourself up, Mikey. There’s no point in it.”

  I look up at him. He means well, he always does, but he doesn’t understand.

  “I should never have taken that job. That guy… he gave off a bad vibe, but I liked the scene he wanted.” I shake my head. “I’m the one who’s a sick fuck.”

  “Mikey…”

  “No,” I say a little too loudly. “If not for my sick perversions—”

  “They’re not sick perversions. You’re kinky. Lots of people are. And, you handle it in a sane and responsible way.”

  “Until the other night.”

  “Oh, c’mon, stop it, Humpty!” He slams his mug of beer down on the table to really get my attention. It works. Although, I hate it when he calls me by that stupid nickname. “Give yourself a damn break. Nothing happened. You saved the day.”

  I start to reply, but he cuts me off.

  “I know what you’re going to say. That you caused the problem in the first place and damn straight, you better have come to the rescue. Right? I know I’m right.” He pins me with a stare and then smiles. “You know I’m trying to put Humpty back together again… again.”

  That gets to me, shuts me up, forces me to lean back in my seat, put down my beer… sigh.

  “I don’t want to remember now, Jack. This isn’t a good time.”

  “Yeah, I get that,” he says in a soft voice. “But… you know… Cara would have approved.” He flinches in anticipation of the storm for just mentioning her name, but I find I don’t have the strength. “She wasn’t a prude. I’m sure she’s smiling, just happy that you’re enjoying that side of you.”

  I shrug. “Maybe.”

  Jack smiles broadly and motions for me to pick up my mug. I do, and he clinks his against mine. “That’s a fucking breakthrough if ever I heard one.”

  We both drink and then fall silent. Both lost in our own thoughts. After a while, Jack breaks the comfortable silence.

  “You know what else she’d approve of?” I don’t say anything and just look at him. I know he’s going to tell me anyway. “Kim. Yeah, that’s right, Mikey. I said it.”

  I bark out a laugh and am dumbfounded by this reaction to something that would normally enrage me.

  “It doesn’t matter now, does it, Jack? I ruined that possibility.”

  “Who says?”

  “I say. Kim doesn’t want anything to do with me now.”

  Jack raises a brow. “Did she say that?” I shake my head and take a long drink of beer. “Then don’t put words in her mouth. Talk to her.”

  “I don’t have a scene lined up.”

  “For a smart guy, you can be such a jerk. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about talking to her.

  I mutter, “Ass,” and the laugh that builds in my chest dies in my throat at the prospect of having a serious talk with Kim.

  “She’s got a boyfriend, Jack. A fucking cop. And I hooked us up with someone who tried to rape her. How can I compete?”

  Again, I’m astonished by my own words. When did I start thinking of Kim in terms of a competition I want to win? Am I happy about this? I think of Cara, and my heart clenches but maybe, just maybe, not as tightly as it used to. Letting go and moving on. Am I there? Finally? Do I want to be? Fuck. I think… maybe… I do.

  Jack is silent while I thrash this out internally. It’s like he knows exactly what inner battle is raging and he gives me the time to battle through to the inevitable end. I love him for this and so many other things. He really did put Humpty back together again.

  “It’s time,” I finally say aloud. Jack nods and toasts me with his mug before taking a sip. I almost want him to argue with me, tell me it’s not time, but he doesn’t. He agrees with me. A knot of terror coils in my belly.

  “So, go ahead.”

  “What? Now?”

  “Yeah, now, for chrissakes. Call her now.” Jack laughs. “You just said it’s time. Why wait?”

  I bite back a sigh and pull out my cell phone just as it starts to ring. Looking at the caller ID, my mouth drops open, and I quickly answer.

  “Kim,” I say before she has a chance to speak. “I told you not to call—” Jack kicks me under the table. Jesus, I’m such a piece of work. As I berate myself, I almost miss what she’s saying.

  CHAPTER 26

  “Michael?” I sob into the phone. “Can you hear me?”

  “Are you okay?” Michael’s concerned voice washes over me.

  I’m crying harder now. His voice has done it to me. I love the sound of his voice. I can’t hide that I’m crying and there’s no way he’s not going to realize.

  “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

  His tone is forceful. In another life, he must have been an amazing Dom. I can’t resist the command and the dam breaks.

  “He’s married, Michael. The sonofabitch is married. He just told me. I thought he loved me! I thought… oh fuck, I thought…” I get stuck here for a moment, enough time for me to hear Michael’s sharp intake of breath. “He cheats regularly. I was just another one of his fucks. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.”

  Here I am stuck again, and again Michael saves me.

  “Kim, are you home?”

  “Oh god oh god…”

  “Kim! Are you home?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Listen to me. Are you listening?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Good girl. Stay right where you are. Don’t move. I’ll be right there. Under
stand? I’m coming to you. Stay there. Tell me!”

  He’s a dark knight, my dark knight, and my blubbering drowns out my answer, so I try again. “You’re coming here. P-please… hurry.”

  “I will. Stay there, Kim.”

  We hang up, and I drop the phone to bury my face in my hands.

  And let the tears flow.

  Time passes. Or, it doesn’t. I realize my tears have stopped. I don’t know when that happened, or what time it is, or what the hell I’m supposed to do now.

  I’m on the floor in front of my couch. I guess this is where I landed when I could no longer support my own weight. The cell phone, Michael’s cell phone is beside me, and I remember that he’s coming. He’s on his way. On shaky feet, I stand and make my way to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face.

  I glance in the mirror above the sink. What a mistake. I look like shit. Puffy red eyes aren’t flattering on anybody. I sigh and run my hands through my hair in an attempt to wrangle the errant locks, and that’s when thunder strikes my front door.

  At least thunder is what it sounds like. It’s really the insistent pounding of a fist against the wood.

  “Kim? Kim!”

  Michael!

  I run to the door and throw it open, and there stands my savior. He steps inside, and the anger that enters with him is palpable. I know it’s not directed at me, but it’s frightening all the same.

  “I’m going to kill him. I’m going to fucking kill him!” He storms past me and into the living room, holding onto his anger with clenched fists at his sides.

  “Oh, no. Oh god no, Michael! That’ll only make things worse. Please.”

  He pulls me into his strong, secure embrace, and I don’t want to start crying again, but I do.

  “It’s alright, Kim, it’s alright. My god, I’m sorry for everything.”

  “I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know. The sonofabitch is married, Michael.”

  “I know, baby. It’ll be okay, I promise.” He strokes my hair, my back, and his touch is so comforting that for a moment, I believe him.

  He leads me to the couch and sits me down. He paces. I’ve never seen him so agitated.

  “Promise me you won’t do anything.” The image of blood spurting out of El Disgusto’s nose as Michael punched him floats before my eyes, and my worry increases.

  “He deserves it, Kim.” His expression is fierce, and I gape at him. He realizes and softens, offering me a small smile. “It’ll be okay. I promise.” He looks at me and strengthens his smile. “I’m going to get us some coffee brewing, okay?”

  He doesn’t wait for an answer and strides off to the kitchen. I watch him go. I like how he looks in my apartment, like he belongs here.

  Soon enough, he’s back and pressing a mug of steaming coffee into my hand. I gratefully sip while Michael resumes pacing. The coffee helps to settle me, but I can’t help thinking about how, in an instant, my whole life has changed.

  “I guess now I know why you don’t believe in love. It’s not worth it, is it?”

  Michael’s mouth drops open. I’ve stunned him to silence. I guess he didn’t expect me to say something like this.

  “No. Jesus, no. Now you sound like me, Kim. And that is not the direction you want to go in. Believe me.” He stops pacing and just looks at me with the saddest expression I think I’ve ever seen. “Don’t turn into me. You are so beautiful, so warm and caring. You deserve so much love in your life, not the shit that guy handed you.”

  “It’s not out there for me.” My voice breaks; I’m on the verge of tears again.

  “Yes, it is,” he says with fierce determination. Then, after a pause, he nods and sits down on the couch beside me. “I’d like to show you something. Would you come for a drive with me?”

  I look up at him in surprise. He looks terrified that I might turn him down.

  How could he think for a second I’d say no? I nod and stand. “Let me just go freshen up.”

  Moments later, I return dressed in black jeans, black short-sleeved shirt, and boots. I’ve run a brush through my hair and even managed to put a dab of lipstick on. I can’t do anything about my red, puffy eyes, but I get the feeling that I’m not done crying yet today, so it doesn’t matter.

  The first big fat droplets of rain hit Michael’s windshield as he pulls away from the curb. He turns on the wipers, and the rhythmic thumping lulls me to silence as he drives. It’s cooler this afternoon than it has been. Autumn is in the air, and I wish I’d brought a jacket.

  Michael sneaks peeks at me every so often as he drives. He doesn’t break the silence and broods, but his hand does find mine at one point and squeezes it reassuringly. I look at him, he glances at me, and we smile.

  It’s a moment I’ll remember forever.

  Weird what sticks with you and becomes a treasured memory.

  I must fall asleep because the next thing I hear is Michael calling my name. The pain of Scott’s betrayal hasn’t resurfaced yet, and I want desperately to stay in this semi-awake state forever. As soon as I open my eyes, I’ll feel the crushing agony and reality will bear down on me with all of its weight.

  But Michael is insistent. “Kim, we’re almost here. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how long the drive would be.”

  I force my eyes open. It’s still raining, and the sun has set, but I’m still able to make out the name of the road he’s turning onto. “Where are we?”

  “Westhampton Beach, the tip of Long Island.”

  “So, we’re on Dune Road. The Dune Road?”

  Michael laughs. Is he embarrassed?

  “Don’t say it like that. It’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal? Michael, Dune Road is beachfront property and has some of the highest real estate prices on the entire island. Multimillion dollar homes! What are we doing here?”

  He doesn’t answer right away and just continues navigating the road. In a few minutes, he turns down one of the driveways. None of the homes on Dune Road are visible from the road. Massive landscaping of trees and giant shrubbery and very long driveways block them from view. I’m practically bouncing in my seat, hoping to catch a glimpse of one. I’ve been on Dune Road before but never had a chance like this.

  “What are you doing? Aren’t we trespassing? We’ll get caught!”

  Again, he says nothing and continues the drive to the house. Eventually, it comes into view, and it is palatial. Three stories, at least as many balconies, and ceiling to floor windows doesn’t begin to describe how spectacular this house is.

  It sits up on a little hill facing the ocean. A wooden walkway and steps lead down to the white sand beach. We’ve just missed the sunset, but I’m certain it was breathtaking despite the rain.

  We’re just a few feet from the house now and Michael parks, turning off the car’s engine.

  “Michael, seriously, we should go.”

  “Why?” he asks, his face once again a mask I can’t read.

  “Because we’ll get caught. We don’t belong here.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. We do belong here. This is my home.”

  I stare at him for a long minute, waiting to see if he’s joking, but he just smiles and gets out of the car. He comes around, opens my door, and extends a hand to help me out. My fingers linking with his, he leads me up to the covered deck overlooking the ocean.

  While the rain beats down and I stare at the view in open-mouthed appreciation, he unlocks the front door and motions for me to enter.

  A tiled foyer leads onto an enormous hardwood floored living room. It’s an open floor plan that joins an equally large ultra-modern kitchen and dining room. The furniture is exquisite and very masculine with black leather sofas, and black wood and glass tables. A large plush red area rug complements the sitting area. A wood burning fireplace dominates the wall across from the windows. It’s all stunning but lacks a woman’s touch. The furniture alone is worth more than I can even imagine earning in one year.

  I stop to pull off my b
oots — it seems wrong to wear them in a house like this — and then move deeper inside. I’m flabbergasted, and as I explore, I turn back to Michael to find him watching me. “This is really yours?” He nods. “Oh my god, you’re rich.” I press my fingers to my temples trying to comprehend it all. “You don’t need to have sex for money at all.”

  He walks to the big stainless-steel refrigerator in the kitchen, pulls out a bottle of beer, and twists the lid off, extending it to me. I take it and he grabs a second, twists off the top, and takes a long sip.

  “I’m comfortable,” he says slowly. “I guess you could say well-off, but I’m not like Bill Gates rich.” I get the impression he’s being modest, downplaying his wealth. He pulls out a stool for me at the island, and we both sit facing a glorious view of the ocean. “As for the sex for money thing? It’s fun. You know that. I have to do something, right? I don’t do idle rich very well at all.”

  Again, he laughs, and again, I get the impression that he might be embarrassed.

  “So, ummm… why did you bring me here?”

  He takes a long pull of his beer then runs his hand through his shock of dark hair that tends to fall into his eyes. He rubs his face then stands. “Come on, let’s get more comfortable,” he says and leads me to the black leather couch in the living room. It too has a breathtaking view of the ocean, but my eyes are on Michael.

  I remain silent. Something is about to happen. I can feel it. Something that might change my life. My heart is thumping so loud I imagine that it is drowning out the crashing of the waves onto the beach and the beating of the rain against the windows.

  Michael sits beside me and sets his beer down on the coffee table. He turns to me, and I see a storm brewing in his eyes. “To answer your question, I thought it was time. Finally time.”

  I swallow hard. “You’re going to tell me—”

  He lifts a hand, and I fall silent again.