I Married a Billionaire

by Melanie Marchande

  "That's fine, then." He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead. "I'm sure everything will match perfectly. There's really nothing to worry about."

  "When will we find out?"

  "I should get a letter in a few months," he said. "If we don't hear anything between now and then, we're to assume everything's going smoothly. Which I'm sure it will."

  "I'm glad you're so confident."

  "Come on." He laid his hands on my shoulders. "It's all right. I know this isn't the easiest thing in the world, with all the waiting, but everything will be just fine."

  I smiled, and then looked away for a moment. I wanted, very badly, to say something about the honeymoon. About the fact that we hadn't really touched each other since. About the fact that I wanted, more than anything, for him to grab me and take me like I knew he really wanted to.

  I knew he did, even if he wasn't showing it.

  "We had a good time on the honeymoon," I said, finally. "Didn't we?"

  "Yes," he said, a little hesitantly.

  "And I'm not talking about the moon walk."

  His mouth twitched.

  "Maddy," he said. "Maybe we shouldn't -"

  "What - talk about it?" I touched the side of his face. "Do it? What difference does it make?"

  He swallowed. "Maddy," he said, a little hoarsely. So I was getting to him, at least.

  "We're going to feel what we feel," I said. "Whether we act on it or not."

  He licked his lips. "All the same," he said.

  "All the same? What kind of counter-argument is that?" I smiled. "Stop acting like a character in some Victorian loss-of-virtue novel."

  He laughed, and then leaned down to kiss me. "You're very persuasive, you know that?" he said when he broke away. "That's very naughty. Tempting me. You know I can't resist."

  "Why would I ever want you to?" I wound my arms around his neck, smiling.

  "I don't know if you realize what you've unleashed." He had such a wicked grin on his face. "Go upstairs and wait for me."

  I frowned a little. "Why?"

  "Because I said so."

  He was still smiling.

  "Fine," I said. "But you better make it worth my while." I turned and skipped up the stairs, two at a time.

  "Oh, I will," he shouted after me.

  I stood in the middle of the bedroom for a moment, trying to decide how to present myself. The obvious thing would be to undress completely - or at least partway. But he'd be expecting that. He wanted to punish me, didn't he? And strangely enough, I wanted to be punished too. So I should be bad, right? I should do the opposite of what he expected. What he wanted.

  I went over to the small bookshelf by the door. I hadn't looked at it too much; it was mostly business stuff or financial guides, nothing that really interested me. But there were a few novels on the top shelf, so I picked one at random and sat down on the edge of the bed. It looked like something you'd buy at the airport on a whim. I flipped it open and started reading.

  Minutes ticked by, and I hadn't turned the page. I couldn't really process the words. I felt nervous and excited, my heart thumping wildly in my chest, more so even than it had at the interview.

  Suddenly, I heard a light tapping noise. I looked up.

  Daniel was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his fingers drumming out a staccato on the smoothly painted wood. He was smiling, coldly.

  "I thought I told you to wait for me."

  "I am waiting," I said, innocently. I looked up, setting the book down on the mattress. "I got bored. Is that a crime?"

  He strode over rapidly, stopping a few feet away from me and staring down at me. I swore his eye twitched.

  "When I tell you wait for me," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "you wait for me. You don't read. You don't check your phone. You don't think. You just wait. That's all you are allowed to do."

  My throat tightened. He was right - I had no idea what I'd unleashed. This was a side of him I hadn't seen before. It was a strange, intimate version of his forbidding work persona, more like how I'd imagined he would be in private. And apparently, I was right. I just hadn't known how right, until now.

  I'd intended to keep up the defiant act for a little longer, but I found the words stuck in my throat.

  "I'm…I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't know."

  "Well, you should have." He walked over to his closet and began rifling through his belt rack. I felt all the blood drain from my face. Was he really going to do what I thought he was going to do?

  A little spanking was one thing, but I wasn't sure I was ready to get hit with a belt.

  Then again, there was something inside me - something that stopped me from protesting. A very small voice, but very clear.

  I trusted him.

  He came back with a belt looped in his hand. I was afraid, yet at the same time, I wasn't.

  "What do you think?" he said. "Is this what you deserve?"

  I swallowed. "No," I said, very quietly.

  He smiled. "Maybe not," he said, looking down at the leather in his hand. He loosened his grip and let it slither to the floor.

  "Maybe this would be more appropriate," he said, reaching for the book.

  "Thank God I picked a paperback," I said, before I could stop myself.

  He grabbed me by my arm, flipping me over onto my stomach. I squealed.

  "You've got a smart tongue," he said. "You really should learn to control it a little better."

  He spanked me with the book. Hard. It didn't sting as badly as I thought it would, especially through my jeans, but it was a powerful swing. I groaned into the pillow, half out of pain and half out of pleasure.

  He was relentless, but at the same time, I could tell he was paying attention to me. Gauging my body's reactions. He wasn't going to give me more than I could take.

  Just when I was beginning to grow numb, I heard him toss the book aside.

  "Turn over," he said.

  I did.

  His smile was gentler now, and he leaned down to kiss me.

  "This is all just a silly game," he whispered. "You know that, right?"

  I nodded.

  "If you say stop I'll stop," he said. "It ends. No questions, no hesitations."

  "I know." I took a deep breath. "I trust you."

  "Good," he said. His face changed. "Now, get yourself undressed." He stood up, stepping away from the bed to watch me. I met his eyes as I pulled my shirt off over my head.

  "Slowly," he said.

  I raised an eyebrow, sliding down off the bed with what I hoped was a smooth, sensual movement and unbuttoning my jeans. I made a show of shimmying out of them, dragging it out for much longer than I needed to. I tossed them aside, and then started on the bra, making sure my hair fell down over my ear in a very fetching way as I did so. I unclasped it, hook by hook, until it was finally undone. Then, I let it fall to the floor.

  One piece left.

  I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my panties, just above my hips. I slid them down, inch by inch, making sure to turn around and give him the three hundred and sixty-five degree view.

  Finally, I was naked in front of him in his own bedroom. It felt different than it had on the honeymoon. More real. He came walking towards me.

  "Shameless," he said, grabbing me by my wrists and pulling me towards him, slightly off-balance. I stumbled into his body, and made no effort to recover myself. Not that I could have, even if I'd wanted to. He was holding me far too tightly.

  He made a small noise with his tongue: tsk, tsk. But he couldn't stop himself from smiling.

  "Wait here," he said, and I stood there by the bed while he went into his closet and rummaged for a moment. I don't know what I was expecting him to bring out, but it certainly wasn't a length of rope. It was long and elegant, and it had been dyed a deep wine-red. He let it slide across my skin, and I shivered at the silken feel of it.

  "I ought to tie you up and just leave you here," he whispered.

  I swear my hea
rt stopped for a moment.

  "But that wouldn't be very much fun for me, would it?" he finished, and I breathed again.

  He looped the rope around my wrists first, lightly; testing me. I relaxed into it, and he drew the ends tighter. Going strictly by feel, it was hard to tell exactly what he was doing, but at the end of it, my arms were bound together tightly. I could lift them a little, but they were so well attached at the wrist that I could do little else.

  The rope felt stiff, like it was brand new. Had he bought it just for me, or had his last relationship exploded spectacularly before he had a chance to tie her up? Somehow, I didn't picture any romantic entanglement of his could possibly end well.

  This hadn't been something I had fantasized about - not really. But I could see the appeal. There was a momentary panic when I first realized how immobilized I really was, how vulnerable, but I soon came to peace with it. And that feeling of calm overtook me completely, surrounding me like a warm blanket. Freed from the obligation of movement, all I could do was wait for him to touch me. Which, really, was all I wanted to do.

  I stood there patiently, focusing on my breathing just like he'd taught me to do.

  "Kneel on the bed," was the next thing he said to me.

  I clambered up on the mattress - awkwardly, without the use of my arms for balance - and waited there for him. I felt him kneel behind me, resting his hand on my shoulder and pushing, gently. I lost my balance completely and pitched face-first into the pillows. I managed to arrange myself so I could breathe, but I couldn't really see him and I wasn't sure I could get myself upright again without his help.

  His hand rested on my ass. I had done such a good job focusing on my breathing until now that it was only just occurring to me what a vulnerable position I was in. On my knees, with my face in the pillows - he could see everything. I was pretty sure I'd never been this exposed to anyone before. I could feel the anxiety beginning to creep in. I exhaled, slowly.

  Daniel was running his finger up the inside of my thigh. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself, and I had a hysterical urge to laugh. What a strange thing to say, in a moment like this. It was almost like he meant it.

  A moment later I heard a wrapper tear, and then I felt him pressing against me, sliding in easily until he was buried to the hilt. I groaned softly against the pillow. He felt perfect inside me - he always had. With every movement, I felt him deep inside - in the very obvious, literal sense, but also in a different way, that made my heart swell in my chest. Oh, no. This was dangerous. But not in the way I'd expected it to be.

  I never would have guessed that a simple length of rope could wreak such havoc on my psyche. As much as I'd enjoyed our previous encounters, this was something completely different. It felt so much more intimate, in a way I hadn't expected. Every little sensation, from the bruising grip of his fingers on my hips to the soft brush of the pillowcase against my cheek, was making my skin tingle all over. My shoulders were starting to hurt, but it was a dull, satisfying ache. It felt good.

  He hit a spot deep inside me that made me shudder, and I felt warm tendrils of pleasure creeping through my whole body. Its peak was somehow both gradual and sudden - like watching a water balloon explode in slow motion. I made soft, muffled noises as my body pulsed and shivered. In the midst of it I felt him swell inside of me, his hips finally stilling their incessant movements.

  He pulled away from me then, coming back moments later to coax me onto my side and quickly undo the ropes. I felt completely blissed-out and exhausted, overwhelmed, like I might start laughing and crying and not be able to stop for hours. He slung his arm around me and I curled up against him, the warmth of his skin and the sound of his heartbeat somehow reaching me through the haze of feelings and sensations to still my mind.

  I breathed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning, I came down to the kitchen with a smile on my face. Daniel returned my "good morning" somewhat distractedly - I wasn't sure what I expected him to say, but it certainly wasn't the next thing that came out of his mouth.

  "Last night," he said. "That can't…we can't let that happen again."

  "What do you mean?" I knew exactly what he meant, but I didn't want to believe it.

  "We can't blur the boundaries," he said. "We're in a business arrangement. It's not very…it's a bad idea to let things get so muddled."

  "I thought you agreed that it didn't matter."

  His eyes looked sad, but determined. I knew I wasn't going to really talk him out of this, but I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I didn't try.

  "Maddy, I'm sorry. I know it's been fun. It's not personal. You're very lovely. I have a good time when we're…together. But it can't keep happening. We have to control ourselves."

  I wanted to scream.

  I wanted to fight him, to bite and kick, throw things at him - I wanted to do every irrational thing that came to my mind, but instead I just stood there, very still, staring at him. Nodding.

  He watched me for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

  "Okay," I said, in the most neutral voice I could manage.

  I turned and disappeared into my studio, where I proceeded to scribble so hard into a new pad of paper that I tore through five sheets before I stopped.

  -

  After that, things were very quiet. We rarely spoke, dodging each other in the main rooms and sleeping three feet apart. Thank God for that massive bed. I was beginning to think that things would just stay like this forever - well, not forever. For the remainder of the year, at any rate.

  I learned to dread the weekends. Things weren't so bad when I was alone, but I couldn't even focus on my art when I knew he was in the apartment. Thankfully, he started to spend more and more time away from home, even when he wasn't working. I never asked where he was. Sometimes, he wasn't even home by the time I went to bed.

  One Monday morning, I came downstairs to find that he was still in the kitchen. Shit. It was a holiday. I'd completely forgotten. I tried to look away and walk past him to the fridge, but I could feel his eyes on me and I knew he was about to say something.

  He said, very deliberately and coldly: "Would it be too much of a burden for you to wash the dishes that you use?"

  I slammed the fridge closed. "Are you referring to the single bowl I left in the sink last night?"

  "And the glasses the night before, and the plates before that…" He set down his coffee mug very deliberately. "It's always something. I don't think it's unreasonable of me to expect-"

  "They had to soak!" I glared at him.

  "They wouldn't have to," he said, "if you'd just wash them as soon as you use them."

  "Oh my God. I can't believe we're having this conversation."

  He sighed. "I'm just trying to make it a little easier for us to live together."

  "No, you're trying to make it easier for you to live with me."

  "You're more than welcome to let me know if there's anything I can do to make your life easier," he said, in the flattest tone possible.

  "Oh, yeah?" I stepped closer to him. "I'm so glad you raised that subject. How about treating me like a human being? And not trying to act like nothing ever happened between us?"

  He looked at me balefully. "Do you really want to have this conversation again?"

  "Yes," I said. "I really would. Because I'd like to know what the hell's wrong with you."

  "What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded. He stood up, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "Do you not understand what's happening here? Do you not see how hard this is?" For a moment, he looked crazed, his eyes darting from side to side as he searched for the right words. "Being near you, all the time…seeing you all the time…sleeping next to you…God damn it, Maddy. Are you really that self-absorbed? Are you really that selfish?"

  I recoiled. His words stung; I wanted to insist that I didn't know what he was talking about, but of course I did.

  "I
'm so sorry," I said, at last, very quietly. I could hear my voice shaking. "I didn't realize that I was twisting your arm." I felt furious, but to my utter humiliation, it was expressing itself in the form of hot tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes and sliding down my face.

  "That's not what I said." Daniel looked utterly defeated, slumping back down on one of the bar stools. "You know that's not what I said."

  "No, I'm sorry, you just said I was selfish. And self-absorbed." My voice was thick from crying, and I hated the sound of it. "That's a whole lot better."

  "I'm sorry," he said, not sounding particularly apologetic. "But you know what I mean."

  "Yeah, sure. Fine." I was done with this whole conversation - I wasn't going to stand there and stare at his stupid unreadable expression while I blubbered like a stupid baby. It was humiliating. I turned to go upstairs, and to my mortification, he followed me.

  "Can you just leave me alone?" I didn't sound quite as authoritative as I'd hoped, between sniffles.

  "Not until you agree to stop toying with me," he said, flatly.

  Wait a minute - I was toying with him? Okay, that was rich.

  "Sure," I said, dripping sarcasm. "I'll make sure to get right on that." I opened the top drawer of the bureau, rifling through it for something - anything - just to look busy so I didn't have to make eye contact with him.

  "I mean it, Maddy," he said. "We can't keep doing this. I can't keep doing this."

  I whirled on him, with a handful of jewelry clutched in my fist. I had no idea what I was even in my jewelry box in the first place. "Okay, fine! Fuck!" I shouted. "I'll leave you the hell alone! As God is my witness, I'll never shimmy my ass in front of you again!"

  He winced, a little. Good. "I'm sorry," he said, again. This time he sounded like he might mean it, a little. "If I led you on."

  Oh, good, the classic "if" apology. Hardly an apology at all. I could feel my lip curling up into an actual snarl; I couldn't remember ever feeling this angry in my life.

  "Oh, you mean the incredibly thoughtful honeymoon?" My tone was venomous. I hardly recognized my own voice. "All those little presents? The car, the clothes, all that shit? Everything you'd give to a woman you actually loved? Well, you can keep them, Danny. I don't give a shit!"