by Britta Jane
Contents
SAVING THE BILLIONAIRE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COPYRIGHT
SAVING THE BILLIONAIRE
Britta Jane
CHAPTER ONE
The clientele who came to see me at my private practice, in one of New York City’s most exclusive buildings, were often famous, rich, and beautiful—both the men and the women. They usually had their secretaries set up their appointments, and then their lawyers send over non-disclosure agreements. As if I would violate the confidentiality that came from treating them and endanger my reputation as one of the most prominent psychologists in the country. But, still the contracts came, and I would sign. Today was a new appointment. My receptionist had told me his name yesterday, and I hadn’t recognized it. This morning, sitting on my chair, were three magazines she’d grabbed on the way in. The same man was on all the covers, looking gorgeous. And I mean… gorgeous, in his business suits, sitting on boardroom tables.
The headlines screamed his name, Aiden Copeland. Underneath were articles that called him unstoppable, all-powerful and a shark.
Somehow it made me shiver. Sitting across from Aiden would be a task - a pleasure, yes, but still a task, because while I was a professional in all senses, I could still appreciate the male form. And he was certainly an alpha male, who dominated his profession—actually the world—from Wall Street investors and stockholders to the front covers of magazines.
I shivered again because even the thought of dominating was delicious. The suits Aiden wore, that chiseled jaw… there was no doubt how he’d look if he shed those layers of expensive clothes.
The file I had was blank other than what his attorney said. He was having issues with depression. The magazine articles would never lead me to believe that, but that was why reality was different to what the public saw and I had a very well-paying job listening to people and guiding them to be their best person possible. My well-paying job was also why I wouldn’t notice how his eyes smoldered the second he walked in.
It was something I’d always been able to do.
That was until he came in, with my receptionist trailing behind. Her not-so-subtle look at me said that this was one I should pay attention to, in more ways than one. She was nuts and inappropriate, but oh my, she was also right. In front of me was someone with charisma that radiated. His charm sparkled more than his eyes, and that was before he’d even said a word. That mattered far more than his bank account and that he was one of the wealthiest men in the world.
“Hello there,” Aiden Copeland extended his hand. A Rolex peeked out from his monographed French cuff. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Alexis Park.”
“I’ve never done this thing before. Ms. Park? Dr. Park? …Mrs.?”
I didn’t blush. But, wow, Aiden’s tone. It caught me off guard. It wasn’t aggressive or flirtatious. But it was inquisitive, and with a heat that I hadn’t expected that curled down my neck to my breasts. “My clients usually go with Alexis.”
“Alexis. Beautiful name.”
“Nothing special,” I disagreed, uncertain why I’d ever do that. It wasn’t my style to play myself down.
“We’ll agree to disagree.”
Well, hell. A blush that, luckily, was out of eyeshot threatened to make an appearance. Moving back, I ushered Aiden in. “Come on in.”
“You were a recommendation, and I’m already not regretting it.” He moved past me to the various articles and awards on the wall. It was my trophy wall. “Very accomplished.”
Maybe I needed the therapy today because I could’ve sworn this time he’d almost flirted. But it didn’t matter. It was time to work.
“I typically jump into the business at hand, immediately,” he said. “Is that okay; if I just start talking?” He chose the couch over the chair.
“Of course.” I took my seat and casually picked up my notebook.
He leaned back, searching the ceiling for answers or inspiration, maybe even strength.
“Are you aware of what happened to my partner?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I only know you’re feeling depressed.”
“Last summer, my girlfriend was in a jet ski accident. I was in the boat, watching. She died. Drowned. I watched and didn’t realize it was happening … right before my eyes. I… can’t even express how guilty I feel. We were at a conference for one of my companies. A new one, where I was rolling out an IPO, and… I watched her drown and made millions in one day.”
His voice broke, and his eyes went back to the ceiling. Or maybe to heaven. “I don’t usually become emotional when I discuss her.”
Perhaps that was the problem. The emotions were there, but he refused their existence. I extended him the handy, often-used box of tissues and he took two, not letting a tear slip free. He barely looked forward.
“What was her name?” I asked.
His eyes went to mine, seemingly caught off guard that he needed to humanize her with a name. “Anne.”
Then the tears fell. Aiden didn’t cry. Not in the sense where I’ve seen people sob. His tears simply slipped free. One after another, and he let them fall as if too tired to wipe them away.
Finally, he dropped his head and rubbed each cheek. He shoved the tissues, the evidence, into his pocket as if he couldn’t stand to see the used tissues, but couldn’t let them go, and my heart broke for him.
“Aiden—”
“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to complain about my CIO. Harry’s a son of a bitch, and every time I see his face, I imagine the party I’m going to throw when he resigns.”
We both shared a chuckle and, agreeing, I let him have his subject change but I said it was on one condition: that he’ll do homework for me.
“Depends,” he said cautiously. “What is it?”
“Spoken like a true negotiator. But that’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
His eyes flashed. “If I don’t, you won’t see me anymore?”
“Pretty much.”
“Any therapist would love to boast I’m on their client list.”
“And that is why you’re in here with me.”
His eyes worked me up and down, and I couldn’t tell in what regard. “True. Deal.”
For the remainder of the first session, I listened to Aiden explain the intricacies of his wealth and stress, his companies and friends, then it was time. “What’s my homework?”
“Write down a list of friends?”
He smirked, cocky for the first time since I’d met him. “I’ll have my social secretary send your receptionist my contact list. That would be easier. Would you like it sorted by country? Or by corporation?”
“I wasn’t finished yet.”
His eyebrows raised. “I apologize.”
“Friends, who you’ve told how you feel about Anne, within the last six months.”
His eyebrows dropped. “That’s well after the funeral.”
“And that’s exactly my point.”
“I don’t follow,” he said.
“I want to know who your real friends are, and I’d like you to know too. Exclude your family.”
Aiden scrunched his mouth and shook his head, staring at the office door. “Then my homework is easy. No one’s on the list.”
I didn’t say a word, and that said everything it needed to. “I’ll see you next week.”
He inched forward in his chair. “Or this week? I can clear a few things. Whatever you have available.”
It was my turn to study him. Therapists wanted to work with clients who wanted to work
on themselves.
“That will work for me.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Alexis!”
Aiden’s familiar voice turned me around in the crowded lobby of the Brighton Hotel. The fundraiser for the brain trauma center at NYU’s expansion was tonight, and I don’t know why I didn’t think he would be here. It was the Copeland Neuro Trauma Center, after all.
He had his name on the center, and I had a seat at a table that cost a cool twenty-thousand dollars per donation—which was gifted to me by a grateful client. I was not struggling for money, but I also wasn’t dropping thousands for dinner.
My dress had cost a couple of grand, but it was also borrowed. The silk and lace covered me like a dream. It had high slits on the sides, and the skirts flowed like a breath of air when I walked. I’d never felt more like a woman when I slipped it on—until Aiden stared me up and down, hungry eyes and a powerful jaw that flexed as though he were fighting to choke down more than a greeting.
A dozen couples surrounded us. Most were powerful, beautiful, and wanting Aiden’s attention. But he was locked on me, and whoever the man was that he had been standing with was now left alone as Aiden pushed through the densely packed lobby awaiting the elevator and came to me.
“Alexis, you look…”
My insides fluttered as he didn’t finish. His cologne was faint, but we were close enough that I caught an intoxicating whiff. His tuxedo-covered shoulders were broad, and the close shave of his jaw line seemed too taut, too restrained.
“Ravishing,” he finally finished.
Not a standard compliment. I knew that. Aiden was aware that it too. He was too close, well within my personal space despite the crowd that forced everyone together. My heartbeat quickened as my pulse thundered in my neck, reminding me that I wasn’t a machine. I had needs. I had reactions. Visceral ones. Ones that I couldn’t control. Chemistry couldn’t be faked or manufactured and we had it. Our connection didn’t give two shits if I was supposed to be his therapist.
But I took a step back. He did too. Though the chemistry was there, so was our intellect.
“Thank you.” I swallowed away the need curling inside my chest and ignored the throbbing want, which I’d pretended wasn’t there when I’d met him those several times before. “You look equally handsome.”
The elevator dinged, signaling the group to make way for the exclusive dinner. It was on the penthouse level, and the elevator ride was a direct route up. A bellman at the elevator doors greeted Aiden as Mr. Copeland, and Aiden ushered me in first.
We packed in. It wasn’t too crowded, but still, this was New York City and we were used to being close. I’d never appreciated it until this moment.
We turned around at the back of the elevator, with him in the corner and I stood to the side, as the others crowded in front.
“Oh.” Another woman’s high heel dug into my foot. “Ow.”
“I’m so sorry.” The older woman apologized profusely, embarrassed, and I died a little inside that I’d made her feel bad.
“No.” Shaking my head, and I promised I was all right, even as Aiden pulled me closer to him. He was making space between me and her, but he was closing space between us, and I shivered at the thought of leaning back against the hard body that I’d studied for weeks now.
“Are you good, Alexis?” His hands slipped onto my hips.
A wave of shivers ran down my neck where the tickle of his warm breath danced over my skin. “Yes.”
His fingers squeezed before he let go and, for a moment, my pulse pounded as I held my breath. Heaven help me. Just for tonight, I could have these reactions. I promised myself that. Only tonight. Then, back to our regularly scheduled appointments, where I would never think of him like this again. Or lie to myself like normal if I did because what sane woman could look at him and not have dirty fantasies?
The doors shut and small talk surrounded us, but all I could think of was his proximity behind me, how his broad back and towering height had a heat that wrapped around me, and made me work to take normal breaths.
The elevator jolted, and everyone let out a nervous, surprised laugh. Then the car shuddered again. The laughter became nervous. The lights flickered. They went dark, came back on and off again as tentative laughter changed to upset worries that were voiced aloud.
“Everyone,” Aiden said with more confidence than I had at the moment. “Welcome to the surprise part of my fundraiser.”
Laughter tittered as he broke the tension, and the overhead speaker clicked. “Hello. We apologize for the electrical problem. The fire department and maintenance department has been notified. You’re in no danger. Just a few minutes.”
“I’m sorry,” Aiden followed up in the absolute darkness.
The elevator quieted from worries to several relatively calm conversations. I was surprised. Nothing more than a few jokes and how this would be quite the story to tell as everyone fell into their easy conversation.
Aiden leaned to my ear. His stomach pressed against my back as his hands carefully closed in on my sides. His mouth, his lips… they pushed my loose hair from my ear, and I couldn’t help but buckle the tiniest bit. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. In the dark, no one could see us. They couldn’t tell Aiden’s lips were still against my ear lobe and that I wasn’t pulling my head away. Hell, that I even leaned back at the unexpected touch.
“Are you sure, Alexis?”
The tease of his hot breath against the shell of my ear might be my undoing. “Yes.”
His right hand tightened on my hip, fingers flexing into my side, and when he loosened, his fingers slid down, running along my front, teasing the top of my underwear line over the silk skirt. He drew his hands back and forth, and this was a big, glaring line of absolutely unacceptable, but I leaned back against him anyway.
He let his palm explore down my thigh to the side of my skirt where the flowing loose layers of silk and lace parted for the high slits then ran up my legs. Aiden found the one on my right thigh and ran his hand onto my bare skin. Goosebumps prickled as he massaged the inside of my leg, teasing up and down as he leaned against me.
“Are you still okay?” he asked a shade quieter than a whisper.
“Yes,” I promised.
“Good girl.”
His fingers danced up, the short-clipped finger nails dragging closer and closer to my wet panties. His left hand squeezed my hip, digging painfully into my side. The possession was intoxicating. That we were surrounded in the dark by his friends, his donors, the who’s who of the elite and wealthy made it even hotter.
“Aiden,” a man called from the front of the elevator. “How’s your newest merger acquisition going? What’s the latest one called?”
“CitiRex.” He slipped his fingers under the silk of my panties, circling my clit. “I’m thrilled with the analysis forecasts on Q1.”
A few chuckles rumbled.
“That’s nothing we haven’t heard and read.”
Aiden laughed as he flexed his erection against my back and dipped his fingers inside me. Impaling me was slow. He was a tease. It was dangerous, and we both knew it.
“Anything more would be insider knowledge.” His casual demeanor in the pitch black while he fingered me was almost more than I could comprehend. “You know that I operate inside the rules.” Aiden bent close. “Almost.”
Sweet Jesus. I gnashed my molars, trying to stay quiet, and was sure that everyone in the elevator could smell the scent of my arousal. It dripped around his plunging fingers. The wetness sounded so loud to my ears, but no one turned. No one questioned. Their casual conversations continued.
My orgasm was coming. I couldn’t stop it. My muscles shook. I clenched and quivered, unable to stop.
Aiden leaned forward, this tongue licked my neck. “Alexis.” Again, quieter than a whisper. “Come.”
I grabbed his left hand that had never left my side and forced it over my mouth and came, trying not to moan,
and praying that his stifling, silencing hand would mask the moaning breaths that I needed to pant. My pussy convulsed around his fingers, and I ground down, needing to buck, arch, explode, but doing nothing.
“Fire department and maintenance almost have you moving,” the overhead speaker announced as I collapsed backward and he withdrew his fingers, carefully releasing me.
The banter in front of us continued, and whether anyone was the wiser, or they would never say a word because it was Aiden Copeland, I have no idea.
The light came on somewhere after I righted myself and before he inched back. No one noticed. The elevator started its ascent smoothly as the overhead speaker announced the obvious.
When the others had exited, Aiden turned toward me, as professional as I’d ever seen him. “I’d love your thoughts on the Copeland Center’s outreach. Would you like to join my table this evening?”
That could never happen again, but I couldn’t turn down the opportunity. “That sounds lovely. Thank you.”
CHAPTER THREE
Aiden arrived on the dot, every single week for the next few months. We never discussed the fundraiser. It never came up in sessions, even if it should have, and I never dared to think about it on my own.
Except that was a lie. I thought about it constantly. Mostly at night, always after I’d gone out with friends and had a glass of wine or at the end of the night where a date had ended and hadn’t got me off anywhere near as well as Aiden had, in a room of people who had no idea.
Each time, we discussed various elements of his life and I forced him to look at his ability to make real connections and to deal with the loss of Anne. He liked control and was good at it, but he had to let go of what he couldn’t control, and that was Anne’s death. At the beginning, it was rough for no other reason than he was stubborn. He wanted to work on his depression and changing his need to rewrite history—an impossible task.
Months passed and his passion for rewriting history changed to revisiting it and seeing it another way. Slowly, I watched him conquer something which had brought him to the ground. I couldn’t say how he was doing it, exactly, because he didn’t always listen to me or do as I asked, even though he was working hard on himself. But he was letting go and forgiving himself. The burden was lessening. He was the guy who the magazine covers said he was, and he didn’t resent that guy so much … if at all, any more.
