by Tia Siren
Then, one afternoon, the twins found me.
“Hey, Liz,” Adam said.
Zach just stood like a professional and waited.
“Hey, guys,” I replied. “To what do I owe this surprise?”
Zach pulled an envelope from his breast pocket and handed it to me without a word.
“This is for you, from the two of us,” Adam said.
I opened the envelope, pulling out a single check with more zeroes than I had ever seen before. I looked back at them, puzzled.
“You’re our sister, and after we heard you started your own company, we thought we’d provide you with some seed money.”
I pushed the check back into the envelope.
“I don’t need it,” I said.
Adam pushed back.
“Listen to what we have to say first,” he replied.
I crossed my arms and waited.
“You told us what we needed to hear. We really were acting like children. We’d been like that since we were young, so it was only natural that we continued into our adult years. But then you called us on it. At first we just laughed it off, but over the last few months we reconciled and have bonded again. Really, we have.”
I laughed. “You expect me to believe that?”
“We do,” Zach said.
I pulled out the check and looked at it again. It would set me up for life if I invested it properly, which was a hard thing to even consider turning down.
“Where did you get this money?” I asked.
“We raised it,” Adam said. “Smart investments always pay off.”
Tears started to well in the corner of my eyes. I didn’t know if what they were telling me was true, but I wanted to believe it.
I raised my arms and brought them in for a group hug.
“You know, the money is great and all, but why didn’t you guys ever visit?” I asked.
“I thought you hated us. I thought you were waiting for us to come up with a grand gesture to win back your approval,” Zach said.
“You left us pretty broken up when you left,” Adam added.
I laughed uncontrollably, and they both stared at me quizzically.
“You guys really are idiots. We’re family, and family is supposed to stick together. Maybe you still have a lesson to learn after all.”
We all laughed heartily that afternoon. I still loved them, but not as lovers. I loved them as the brothers they had become.
*****
THE END
BILLIONAIRE BOSS Romance – The Boss’s Kiss
“Do you know what Obama has done for people our age?” Olivia asked Madison and Abigail. They both looked at her blankly. Neither of them had a clue about politics. Olivia took a mild interest in current affairs, but the other two just knew who Obama was; they certainly had no idea what he had or hadn't done for the country. “Well if you don't know, I'll tell you. He's done nothing. Eight years of nothing. I'm leaving this country and going to seek my fortune elsewhere,” Olivia said.
Olivia's friends looked at her as if she'd announced she was training to be an astronaut. “Leaving the US?” Abigail said, her blue eyes almost popping from her head.
“Why?” Madison asked. “This is the greatest country in the world.”
“Jesus, Madison, you sound like you've been brainwashed by Fox News. Do you really think this is the best country in the world? I want to see something else of the world,” Olivia said.
Madison and Abigail looked at each other. “It's all right for you. You went to college because you parents left you a good inheritance,” Abigail said. “You should put yourself in the position of poor people like us. We have no choice but to accept whatever is handed to us.”
Olivia looked at the two women and wondered why they were still her friends. “We all went to school together, right?” Olivia asked. They nodded. “We went to the same school, studied the same subjects. The only difference being, I studied harder than you two lazy bitches.”
“Oh, that's not fair,” Madison exclaimed. “We tried just as hard as you.”
“Bullshit. If that’s the case, why are you two working the tills at Walmart when I've got a college degree?” Olivia was aware that she sounded boastful, but she'd had enough of her whining friends. “You guys don't realize that life is what you make it. You're just too lazy to get what you want.”
“Come on, Madison,” Abigail said. “We don't have to listen to this shit. You know, Olivia, since you went to college you've become a real snob. You're no friend of ours anymore.”
The two women got up from the table they were sitting at in the Millstone Café and walked toward the door. “I suppose I'm paying?” Olivia shouted after them. They both stuck a finger up at her. Tramps, both of them, Olivia thought.
It wasn't going to college that had made her a snob, as Abigail had said. It was just that she hated moaners. Both of them still had their parents, yet they called her privileged because she'd been to college. She would have swapped all her education to have her beloved mom and dad back again. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. “How dare they,” she muttered under her breath.
“George, bring me the check,” she shouted across the empty café.
“You're not going, are you, Olivia?” he asked.
“Yeah. I just fell out with those two idiots. I think I'll go for a swim.”
“I thought you'd maybe stick around. I get off work in an hour. Maybe we could—”
Olivia interrupted him before he could finish. “No thanks, George. How many times have you asked me out this year?”
“Lost count,” George said instantly.
“How many times have I said no?” she asked.
“Same number.”
She smiled at him. “George, you're a great guy. If I'd just met you, I'd really dig you and want to date, but we've been neighbors since I was in diapers, and we went to school together.”
George, who was a lanky six foot three, put his hand to his chin to pick a spot that had been bothering him all week. “What difference does that make?”
“It means it's boring. There is nothing to discover between us. It's all been said and done. I need adventure, something different to make me feel something. I'm going fucking crazy in this two-bit town.”
He loved Olivia. She was the only woman he'd ever asked out. He loved her enthusiasm for life and the fact that she had the hottest body in town. She was blond, and her face was so pretty she turned heads as she walked along the street. If he couldn't have her, he'd take a rain check on women he'd previously decided against. “I'm sorry you're feeling unsettled. I love our town.”
“George, it's a backwater, an insignificant bunch of boring buildings and even more boring people.”
“Then go and get rid of your wanderlust. Stop telling everyone how pathetic they are for liking it here and go.”
“Am I arguing with you now as well?” she asked.
“No. But sometimes you sound like a broken record that just goes round and round and round.”
He was probably right, she thought. Since her parents had died, she'd felt increasingly isolated. People had been very kind to her and supported her through her grief, but she'd pulled back into her own world, and now all she could do was tell other people how lazy and boring they were. She would go away and experience something else in the world. She'd get a job in another country.
That evening she sat alone in what used to be her parents’ home, and was now hers, and searched the internet for journalism jobs.
“London,” she muttered. “Hundreds of jobs.” George had hit the nail on the head, she told herself. She needed to put her words into action. She had more than enough money to tide her over until she found a good job, and she could get an agent to look after her house in the US.
“Six hundred bucks. Okay,” she said as she hit the “BOOK” key on the British Airways website.
*****
“This happens to me every time I fly,” a short man said as he raked his ha
nd over the sweat covering his bald head. “You'd think with better technology airlines would be able to get their act together, but no, they make all the excuses under the sun for their tardiness.”
“This is the first international flight I've ever taken,” Olivia said as she stared at the departures board. “It just says delayed. Don't they have to give a reason?”
“My dear girl, you are very naive if you think they would tell their customers anything. They are perfectly happy to take our money. But tell us what's happening when things go wrong? Never.” The man had a British accent; he sounded very much like Prince Charles to Olivia's untrained ear. “If I were you, I'd go to the information desk and ask, but all they'll say is that they can't be held liable and that it's not their fault.”
She went to the British Airways help desk and waited in a long line of disgruntled passengers. When it was her turn, the lady in a blue and red uniform told her exactly what the man had said she would say.
“I'm sorry, but it's beyond our control, and we certainly can't be held liable.”
“But can you give me any idea at all when the plane is likely to leave?”
“I'm sorry. I can't at the moment. Please keep your eye on the departures board.”
Olivia, like all the others, turned away none the wiser and considerably more disgruntled.
“Frustrating, isn't it?” a man said just as Olivia sat down where she could watch the flight board.
“Yes, very,” she answered without looking at him.
“I assume you're going to London?” he asked.
Jesus, you're the hottest piece of man meat I've ever seen, she thought when she did eventually look at him. It had been a long time since she'd had sex, and she'd found that she was thinking increasingly lurid thoughts whenever she saw a hot man. This guy, however, was more than hot, and her thoughts began to run away from her. Any position you want, she thought. All I ask is that you do me really hard.
“Going to London?” he asked again when he noticed how she was staring at him but not offering an answer.
“Er...yes. Sorry. Yes, I'm going to London,” she eventually said.
“I'm afraid it looks like we're in for a long wait,” he said.
“Yes. They don't seem to be able to tell us anything. That's the worst part.”
“It's par for the course,” he said.
She looked more closely at him and decided she would not only let him take her in any position he wanted but also at any time he chose. He was sitting in the row behind her, and she'd turned around to talk to him. Little was she aware that the third button on her blouse had slipped open and he was being treated to a wholesome view.
“Why are you trying to get to London?” she asked.
“Business,” he said without revealing anything. She tried to guess what kind of business. He didn't fit the boring banker category, and neither did he look like an accountant, a lawyer, or a salesman. In fact, if she had to pick a profession for him, she would have picked something dangerous, like a mercenary, a policeman, a private detective, or even some kind of criminal.
“Bank robber,” she said without meaning to—it just slipped out.
“What? You think I'm a bank robber?”
She turned crimson. Shit, get a grip, she told herself. “Sorry. I was trying to guess your profession. You look like the kind of man who would do something slightly illegal or dangerous for a job.”
“No. Actually, what I do is very mundane. But very lucrative.”
“Are you going to tell me what it is?” she said.
“Are you going to come and have a coffee with me?” he replied.
“Yes,” she said immediately. She cringed when she noticed her blouse. Not only do you say yes to him immediately, like some kind of overgrown schoolgirl, but you show him all your attractions for free, she thought.
The Thirsty Flier was a plastic paradise in the middle of the departure lounge. It was packed with passengers as frustrated as Olivia. They found two chairs against a back wall and sat under a fake palm tree.
“Why are you going to London? Modeling?”
She looked at him to make sure he wasn't pulling her leg. No, he seemed serious. “Why do you say that?”
“Tall, slender, lovely pert figure, long straight blond hair, emerald green eyes any man would die for, and a lovely smile—perfect attributes for a career in modeling.” Now she decided she would marry him as soon as he asked. “Why did you think I was a bank robber?”
“Well, you're tall.”
“Is that the only qualification?”
“I can't describe it. You look tough, as though you don't take any BS from anybody. The scar on your cheek helps.” He ran his index finger over it. She wanted to know how he'd gotten it but was afraid it would prove to be a more mundane reason than she wanted to believe.
“What are you going to do in London?” he asked.
“I've recently graduated in journalism. I thought it would do me good to work abroad for a while.”
“Do you have a job lined up?”
“No. I was going to see what I could find when I got there.”
He sipped his coffee and looked at her. He was sad she'd closed her blouse. “Very enterprising. I bet you're a good journalist.”
“I don't really know. I did great at college, but that's not the real world. Maybe I’ll suck at it; I have no idea.”
“I don't think you’ll suck at it. I can see you've got what it takes.”
Just then an announcement interrupted their conversation. “Oh, what?” Olivia moaned in response to it. The airline had finally announced that the plane wouldn't be leaving that day because of a technical fault. “I can't go home; I live miles away. Do you know any good hotels in Boston?” she asked.
*****
“Is this your house?” Olivia asked
“Yes. Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Because it's huge.” She paused. “And you live here alone?”
“Do you know, we haven't introduced ourselves. We've been talking all afternoon and I don't even know you name,” he said, ignoring her question.
“Olivia Halfpenny.”
“Really?”
“Please don't laugh. I've had years of teasing about it. It's an English name, my great grandfather's fault. He could have changed it when he came to the States.”
“Daniel Raleigh.”
“Oh, that's a nice name. It sounds very noble,” Olivia said.
She wondered what she was doing at his house. She had been going to get a hotel, but when he'd offered to put her up, she'd heard herself say yes before she'd really thought it through. Sitting in his car on the way from the airport, she'd wondered what on earth she was doing. For all she knew, he could be a killer. The real reason, she later admitted to herself, was that she wanted to sleep with him.
Olivia was speechless. The house was like something she'd seen in the movies, a huge palatial residence built, she guessed, somewhere around the nineteen thirties. It had an enormous yard in the front and rear, with a pool and a few tennis courts. The house itself was white with timber inlay. It had a terrace running across the front elevation and a lovely antique conservatory to the side.
“You have to tell me what you do for a living. You can't buy this kind of place by robbing banks,” she joked.
“There's time for that. Come in and have a drink.”
The interior took her breath away. It was straight from a design magazine. It was just how she would have decorated it, lots of white colonial furniture with palms and marble floor tiles.
“It's a lovely house,” she said. He handed her a glass of red wine, and she took a sip.
“I'm glad you like it,” he said.
“Why did you ask me here?” she said.
“Because I took pity on you. It's not nice trying to find a hotel on your own.”
She looked at his expression and instantly knew he was lying. Her father had run a building business, and many of the guys who had w
orked for him had looked at her like Daniel was.
“Actually, I'm fibbing,” he said as he took her wine glass from her. “As soon as I saw you I wanted to have you. All that small talk was just a smoke screen. I usually get what I want.”
“So you persuaded me to come here so you could...”
He took her in his arms and kissed her.
“I didn't persuade you. You couldn't wait to say yes,” he said once their lips parted.
“Admit it. You want me just as much as I want you. I can sense it.” Had she been that obvious? She really hadn't shown him her bra on purpose. That had been a genuine mistake. “You looked at me like a bitch on heat,” he added.
He pulled her tighter to him and kissed her again. When his lips finally left hers, he spun her around and pushed her face-first against the wall. “Tell me you want me.” When she was silent, he put his weight on her. “Tell me,” he demanded.
“Yes,” she moaned as his erection pushed against her buttocks.
“You came here because you want me to fuck you. You will do exactly as I say. Understood?”
This was what she loved, craved even: a man who told her what he wanted. A man who demanded things of her and made her feel things.
“Take off your blouse,” he said sternly.
She pulled the material from the waistband of her pants and tried to step back from the wall. “No. Stay where you are and take it off.”
“But I—”
“Do as I ask,” he commanded. “Don't argue.” She put her fingers between the wall and her blouse and undid the buttons. When it was almost open, he ripped it from her back and threw it onto the floor. “Now I want you to unfasten your pants. I'm going to pull them down.” Again she tried to move from the wall, but he held her there. When the button was open, he pulled her pants down over her thighs and tossed them away. Instead of feeling humiliated, standing against the wall in a bra and panties, she felt aroused as never before. When she felt his hands unhook her bra, she gasped. The cold wall made her nipples stiff.
“Now I'm going to push your panties to once side, and I'm going to take you, here, against the wall.” She felt his fingers playing with the soft material, and then she heard the sound of his zipper. He bent his knees slightly to get the right angle and pushed. Olivia screamed as he entered her. His thrusts began immediately, crushing her to the wall. She put her hands on the wall and pushed her behind toward him.
