Big Bad Alpha: A Billionaire Romance
Page 117
“Ah, sorry. I forgot that’s a pen name. Her real name is Olivia Halfpenny.”
Daniels's eyebrows raised as he remembered her name, her body, and how much he'd enjoyed gorging on the delights she'd had to offer. “Olivia Halfpenny.”
“Do you know her?” Gretta asked when it sounded as if he recognized her name.
“I believe I do. Go and get her, and give us a meeting room. I want a chat with her.”
Daniel followed Gretta to room three of the five meeting rooms the newspaper had at its disposal and sat down in the sterile room. Gretta went to find Olivia.
“You're an asshole,” Olivia said as soon as she entered the room. “A misogynist. I believe they would have called you a cad years ago.”
Daniel looked at her and noticed the rage in her eyes. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. “The world is indeed a small place. How are you?”
“Don't give me that shit. You don't care how I am. All you care about is getting inside as many panties as possible without a single thought for the consequences.”
“Olivia, I don't know what has made you so pissed at me, but......”
“Don't you?” she said. “Well perhaps it'll do you good to have to think about it.” Daniel sat open mouthed after she stormed out of the room.
Olivia went back to her desk and did some breathing exercises to calm down. She pulled out How to Make a Man Love You from her handbag and looked at the stains it had collected during its short time in the trashcan. She turned to page eighteen and read it for the umpteenth time. Page eighteen told readers that a risky but effective strategy for making someone fall for you was to enter their lives, make an impression, and suddenly pull away, leaving them time to think about you. She wasn't sure her efforts to pursue that tactic had gone terribly well over the last few minutes. She seemed to have insulted him, not pulled away from him. What the hell, she thought. She was angry at him and he deserved it.
After a week Olivia had begun to regret how she'd spoken to Daniel. It hadn't had any effect; his silence was as loud as before. She continued to write articles that received rave reviews and drove sales through the roof. Her controversial style and her ability to capture the interest of the readers had earned her the respect of her colleagues and Gretta in a short.
When Gretta offered her a huge pay increase to prevent her from being poached by other publications, Olivia took out a mortgage on a luxury apartment in Long Island City. On Sunday mornings, she went to a local cafe to drink coffee, read the newspaper, and talk to the locals.
“They told me I'd find you here,” a man said.
Olivia looked up from the newspaper she was reading. “What do you want? I told you how I feel about you,” she said, continuing the tactic Ralph Penworthy had taught her. She reminded herself that she had no idea what qualified Ralph Penworthy to give such advice, but at least it had brought Daniel to her, and he was carrying a bunch of flowers.
“I'm sorry for doing whatever has upset you. I still don't know what it was. But I've been thinking about you recently.”
“Sit down and stop making a fool of yourself with that enormous bunch of roses,” she said.
Daniel wasn't used to being told what to do, and neither was he used to women scolding him. As far as he was concerned, he was the boss and what he said happened. But somewhere on his journey home between New York and Boston after their last encounter, he'd begun to think about her in a way he'd never thought about a woman before. Her talent and her courage in sticking up for herself had awakened his interest to such a degree that he'd bought flowers for the first time in his life.
“You hurt me, really hurt me,” she said over the roses that were lying between them on the table.
“How? I didn't mean to.”
“You callously screwed me and never bothered to contact me again. Didn't you think that it may have meant something to me?”
“Er...”
“See. You didn't, did you? That's what I mean; you don't care.”
“Olivia, I'm sorry, but I do care about you. It was never my intention to hurt you. I just thought—”
“You'd fuck me and throw me on the scrap heap next to all the other women you've used,” she said.
“Right, I've had enough of this,” he said as he slammed his fist on the table, making everyone look at them. “I've said I'm sorry. I've traveled here specially to see you. I even bought you flowers. I want to say I do care. I didn't, but I do now. Very much.”
“Why now?”
“Because you've made me see how special you are. I'm here because you are talented, and you stand up to me. I need that. And you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.”
“So what do you want?”
“You.”
“Do you think it's as easy as that? Do you think I will forgive you for all the weeks I've suffered?”
“Well, I'm here, am I not? Either you forgive me and give us a chance or you tell me to go.”
Had she heard him correctly? He had said, “Give us a chance”? She felt like a huge weight had lifted from her shoulders. The agony of being spurned by someone she loved was evaporating and being replaced by optimism and hope.
“Okay, here's the deal,” she began. “I am very attracted to you, and I have strong feelings for you. If you think you may feel the same now, or at some time in the future, please tell me and we'll give it a try. If you're just here for a bit of fun and a screw, leave.”
“You are one hell of a woman. Why I didn't see that straight away, I have no idea. I must have been blind. I’d like to have a meaningful relationship with you.”
“Then take me home and fuck me like you did the first time. It was so wonderful.”
*****
When he touched her, she shivered. She'd waited for this moment for too long. She'd agonized and worried that she would never have the chance to feel his body on hers again, but now standing in her bedroom with him in front of her, all those worries disappeared.
His finger slid gently over her cheek and traced a line across her chin and down her neck. She felt goose bumps on her forearms at his touch. She closed her eyes and pouted her lips, waiting eagerly for him to kiss her. When he did, it sent a charge to her womanhood the likes of which she'd never experienced before. She pushed into him, grinding her pelvis against his groin, feeling him stiffen in anticipation of her.
“You're so beautiful,” he whispered, his lips caressing her ear in the softest of touches. They kissed again, deeper, more passionately. He spun her around and held her arms behind her back. He kissed the back of her neck and bent her forward over the bed.
“Oh God,” she moaned as his hands caressed her buttocks, feeling their way down to her thighs and under to her intimate area. Her arousal warmed his hand as it cupped her over the material of her pants. He reached around her, opened her pants, and pushed them down over her smooth legs. The sight of her panties and her bronzed legs completed his erection, and all he wanted now was to take her. When her panties were on the floor, he knelt behind her and performed an act that took her breath away. She reached behind herself and stroked his hair as he continued.
“If you keep doing that, I'm going to come,” she moaned. He didn't stop, and when she squealed and pushed back onto his face, he took her over the top with his tongue. Without letting her recover, he thrust into her. She threw her head up and cried out—such was the sensitivity he'd created in her.
“Slowly please,” she said, hardly able to bear it. But he didn't listen. He gathered her hair in his hands and pulled her head up, at the same time increasing the power of his thrusts. Her oversensitivity was replaced by more pleasure as another orgasm hit her.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“I love it,” she moaned. “I love you doing this to me.” His thighs continued to slap against hers, sending vibrations to her center. Suddenly she moved away and lay on the bed. “Too much,” she gasped as she fought tears of joy.
He lay behind her and s
pooned her. When she was ready, she reached for him and guided him inside again. He made love to her gently now. His hands fondled her breasts and stroked her stomach. The hardness of his body pushed against her. The hair on his legs tickled her lightly, adding to the sensation that was building up in her once again. She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing as he pushed steadily in and out of her. The slow constant rhythm began to make her gasp again. When she shook, he held her until it was over, and then he released her.
It was such a comfortable position that she was loathe to change, but she wanted to sit on him and feel his body under her. When she was where she wanted to be, she put her hands on his chest and began to rise and fall over his length. He held her breasts and played with them until her nipples were so hard they ached.
“Come inside me, Daniel,” she said when she felt him twitching. She began to rock back and forth, rubbing herself against him. When he thrust his head back, pushed his thighs up against her, and came, she had her last and most powerful orgasm. She sat still on him as her body shook, out of control, totally satisfied and exhausted.
*****
Daniel proposed to her on the day of his late mother's birthday. He'd managed to swallow his pride and go down on one knee in front of a huge crowd at the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Everyone applauded when they saw Olivia nod and begin to cry. When he picked her up and spun her around, the applause grew louder.
He'd wanted to buy her a twenty-thousand-dollar ring, but she'd told him to spend half of that and give the other half to a charity she knew of that looked after the families of those killed in car accidents. She remembered her parents when he sent the check in the post.
*****
THE END
BILLIONAIRE BOSS Romance – The Boss’s Orders
“She's nearing the final phase now,” Dr. Ellis said.
Aaron looked at the doctor through misty eyes and held on to his wife's hand. How could all this have happened? She'd been so healthy, so vibrant and full of life. But now, just three months after telling him she felt unwell, here she was, lying in front of him, emaciated and about to die.
They had all the money in the world, a huge mansion, more luxury cars than they knew what to do with, a sixty-five-foot yacht, and an army of servants. It all had no significance whatsoever. He’d put so much hard work into his business to ensure they had a wonderful life. It meant nothing now. All he was going to have left were memories of his beautiful wife.
Aaron felt nauseous but avoided going to the bathroom for fear she would be dead when he came back. A few people close to him, his mother, his sister, and Pastor Evans, had told him she would soon be out of pain, and he knew that, but it was of no comfort.
The doctor moved away from Lindsey's bed and watched her from afar as Aaron sat in the chair next to her and waited. Why couldn't he do something to help? He'd always solved their problems before. But this, this was beyond him, and beyond the whole of medical science.
“Mom,” Aaron said when Jean arrived in the room at St Edward's Infirmary. She put her hand on his shoulder and looked at her daughter-in-law. “She's going, Mom, and there's nothing I can do about it, nothing at all.”
Jean turned her head away and bit her trembling lip as her tears began to flow. She'd seen people die before, her husband and her father, but this was infinitely worse. Lindsey was just thirty-two, and she was leaving a loving husband and a wonderful son behind. “What did the doctor say?” Jean asked.
“He said she's in the final phase. That means it's imminent.” Aaron's voice broke, and he leaned his head on his mom's breasts as she stood next to him.
“How's Matthew?” Jean asked.
“Devastated. He's with his nanny. I can't believe it. The callous bitch handed her notice in three days ago, just as his mom is about to die. Can you believe it?”
Jean shook her head in disbelief. How was Matthew going to cope with losing his mom and his nanny in the same week? Autistic kids didn't react well to change, and at five years old it was likely to affect him very badly.
When Lindsey opened her eyes, Aaron stood up. He felt her grip his hand as hard as she could. “Aaron, I'm sorry if at any time I said or did anything to hurt you or Matthew,” she whispered. Her voice sounded cracked and dry.
“You didn't. Not once. We love you more than anything in the world,” Aaron said, hardly able to speak past the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him.
“I'm going now. Tell Matthew I love him, and look after him as I know you will. I love you. I'm sorry I let you down like this.”
“You didn't. You didn't,” Matthew said as he stroked her forehead.
Lindsey's eyes closed, and Aaron heard the sound he had been dreading: her last breath slipping from her.
He lay across her limp form and hugged her as huge sobs racked his body. After a few minutes, Jean took his arm and pulled him to her. He cried like a baby on his mom's shoulder for the first time in years.
The doctor discreetly closed Lindsey's eyes and folder her arms across her body. Aaron looked down at her and blew her one last kiss.
“We'll take Lindsey to the Chapel of Rest now,” the doctor said. “You can visit her there again today if you’d like.”
“No, doctor. Thanks, but I made my mind up not to visit her after she'd died. I want to remember her the way she was,” Aaron said.
Dr. Ellis put his hand on Aaron's arm. “That's very wise. Speak to Pastor Evans later. I'm sure he'll be able to offer some words of comfort to you and Matthew.”
“Thank you for all you have done for us, doctor. You made her very comfortable, and I appreciate that,” Aaron said.
“Come along, Aaron. Let's go and leave the doctor to do what he has to,” Jean said. She put her arm around him as they walked out of the room.
Aaron went to his office before going home. He wanted to tell the people who worked for him. When he walked through the glass door, the receptionist knew just by looking at his face. She got up and hugged him. “I'm so sorry, Aaron. If there's anything I can do, you will tell me, won't you?”
“Thanks, Jan. Just keep up the good work. That's all I ask.”
He walked along the corridor and into his office. He closed the door and sat behind his desk. I've built all this singlehandedly, he thought, but what difference has it made? Now I'm a widower, and Matthew doesn't have a mom. When he looked out of window, he could see for miles down the Hudson River. He loved New York, but on that day, it looked gray and uninviting. He owned the whole building in downtown Manhattan, a ninety-story maze of offices, retail and residential real estate. It wasn't the only building he owned. He owned similar properties all over the States and Europe.
“Aaron, I'm so sorry,” Megan said.
“Come in,” Aaron said when he saw her hesitating.
She walked to his desk and hugged him. After she'd dabbed the corner of her eye with a tissue, she sat down in the chrome and leather chair opposite him.
“Do you want to talk?” she asked.
“I don't know. I'm just numb.” He looked at the woman who'd been his PA for the last fifteen years. He was glad he'd chosen a more mature lady to look after him. She'd been a wonderful PA. He remembered back to when he'd just started his business, how many beautiful women had applied for the post he'd advertised. But despite being turned on to no end by the miniskirts, long legs, and low-cut tops, he had stayed focused and chosen someone purely on merit. Megan was fifty-six and marvelously efficient. “I couldn’t have done all this without you, Megan,” he said.
“Nonsense. You've done it all yourself.”
“Not bad for a kid from the wrong end of town,” he said, referencing his upbringing in a squalid apartment in Brownsville, NY.
“Not bad at all,” she said. “But I think it's not despite your background; it's because of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know how you got to the top. You had to kick ass and push people around. You had to bend the rules, break a
few bones, and never take no for an answer. A boy from middle-class America who'd been to private school and then Harvard wouldn't have been able to do that. And do you know what the best part of it is?” she asked.
“No.”
“You're still only thirty-two. I'm so sorry about Lindsey, and I know it will take you a long time to get over it, but you're still so young.”
“It doesn't feel that way at the moment,” Aaron said.
“Of course not. I didn’t want to demean Lindsey's memory in any way. I just wanted to say that time is a great healer.”
“I guess. Will you call the undertaker and make the funeral arrangements? I don't think I can.”
“Sure.”
“You know what I want. We've discussed it often enough.”
*****
Aaron had asked people not to wear black. Black wasn't a color he associated with Lindsey, and although it wasn’t tradition, he wanted people to wear bright colors. He wanted her funeral to be a celebration of her life. It was impossible for it to be a joyous occasion, but he wanted to give thanks to Lindsey for what she had given to the world: her charm, intelligence, beauty, and the most wonderful gift of all, Matthew.
He looked at his five-year-old son playing with some building blocks in the corner of his playroom and wondered how he would react when he saw his mom's coffin. Aaron had agonized about letting Matthew go to the funeral, but he'd read an article about a woman who hadn't been allowed to go to her father's funeral, and she'd said it had deprived her of the ability to mourn. So he'd decided to let Matthew come and try and explain what was happening.
He remembered the day the doctors had told him and Lindsey that Matthew was autistic. They hadn't noticed at first, but when he was about two, they began to see some suspicious behavior. He never made eye contact, and when they smiled at him, his face would remain blank. He was generally so unlike other kids that Lindsey had persuaded Aaron to come with her to the doctors. They hadn't known what to think at first. The more they read about the condition, the more confused they became. But they had spoken to some other parents with autistic kids, and there seemed to be three things that were vitally important to the child's welfare. They gave Matthew his own secure area, they held to a strict schedule, and they rewarded him greatly for good behavior.