“I wrote that column two years ago. How did you dig that out?”
“I did some investigating myself. You’re middle-class, catholic parents separated when you were eight. You’re father remarried his secretary whom you can’t stand. You studied journalism in college and you have become one of Ireland’s most sought-after models. You like a challenge and something that pushes you out of your comfort zone. I guess that is why you requested to spend a week with me,” he said with a wry grin.
“Anything else?” she enquired sarcastically.
“You’ve had a boob job.”
“You certainly did do some investigating,” she confessed, blushing.
“Would you like to know why I agreed to you coming to stay with me for the week?”
“Yes,” she said, her fingers trembled slightly as she picked up her glass of wine.
“Jake showed me a picture of you holding the winning ticket on the Internet. You slightly reminded me of my wife, Greta. You are not as beautiful in the flesh though, she was a spectacular beauty, but you have similar features,” he stared into her eyes, Minx held his burning gaze.
“I met her in Monte Carlo, I was a tax exile. She was this magnificent beauty. I was a billionaire playboy with time on my hands, as I’d already made my wealth. I fell in love,” he paused. “It was only after we married that I found out the truth. She had numerous affairs with my closest friends and business partners and enjoyed parading this in my face.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He sounded drunk.
“She had this wild side, I was unable to tame. She told me, she only married me for my fortune. Towards the end, she knew the only thing I cared about was my son. I adored that boy,” his eyes turned bleak as he ran his fingers through his shaggy mane of silver hair.
The silence was suffocating. Matilda placed a fresh pot of coffee, sugar and milk on the mahogany table before leaving for the evening. They did not notice Matilda putting on her cardigan and closing the door softly behind her.
“All my life, I’ve experienced rejection, there was parental rejection, Greta rejected me in favour of other men, but my boy loved me. He didn’t love me for my money or the fact I was a property and shipping tycoon. He loved me, simply because I was his Dad. I spent most of my time looking after him, while Greta was out attending social events and courting other men,” Stanley Marx gave a broad smile and sipped his powerful drink. Minx’s eyes softened and compassion etched on her lovely face.
“That fateful night, Greta told me, she was leaving me and taking my boy with her. I offered her the lot, my business, mansions, property, everything. She would become the richest, most powerful woman in the world. She accepted my offer. I would get full custody of my son and she would take everything else,” he paused. “We had one hell of a fight that night,” he murmured as his burning eyes stared intently at Minx, “still, I got what I wanted, my boy.”
“I’m so sorry, Stanley,” Minx whispered as her eyes clouded with tears.
“I should never have let her get into that car with my boy, there was a huge storm and we both had too much alcohol. She was only driving five minutes down the road to the servant’s cottage. But she never made it. The last time I saw him, he was bawling and begging me to take him back to the safety of his nursery,” his voice quivered. Nothing prepared her for the empty blankness of his eyes.
Minx got up from her chair and leant down to wrap her arms around Stanley Marx. He could feel her trembling like a leaf. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard. She kissed him back with equal intensity. His hand moved up from her shoulder and into her hair as his tongue expertly explored her mouth. His tongue swirled around her mouth and he tasted divine. He hadn’t shaved; Minx felt his stubble brushing roughly against her porcelain skin. His kiss became more demanding as she used all her willpower to push him away.
“It’s late, I should be going to bed,” she whispered softly. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair tossed. His hooded eyes watched her intently as she fixed her dress.
“What are we doing? You are young enough to be my daughter and I’m a grumpy 50-year old with a protruding stomach.”
”I like the fact you have a soft, sentimental side. You hide it well,” she said softly.
“Shall I walk you to your room?”
“No, I got it. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Minx said awkwardly as she turned and sashayed out of the room. Stanley Mark was lost in thought as she walked sexily out of the room.
Minx Valour closed the bedroom door and sank onto her bed. She smiled wickedly and her eyes were alit with a salacious gleam.
Minx Valour had just kissed the notorious billionaire recluse, Stanley Marx. Desire bloomed deep in her belly. She closed her eyes and gave a sigh of utter contentment as she curled up beneath the duvet and fell asleep.
The End – Part 1
The Solitary Billionaire Page 3
