Sharing the Billioniare

by Elizabeth Coldwell

  “So you do like our little party after all. If you prefer to watch, I’m sure that can be arranged.”

  There’s sudden warmth in her words, a hint of co-conspiracy in her lilt, like she’s discovered something worth forgiving in his unwilling attraction. He’s suddenly, vividly aware of her nearness, so close she’s all impression—dark eyes, dark skin, a little hitch to her breath.

  She’s excited by me. Then it flashes for him, that instinct of his that hasn’t steered him wrong since it led to his first million-pound deal. Our champagne, our ship. There was something here, something about this woman that could hold his answers. “You don’t like liars,” he says, “but what about gamblers? How much will it take for you to change sides?”

  She frowns, but her stance opens. It’s a striking juxtaposition—warning him off while inviting him into her space. His mind wonders how to use to his advantage, while the more primal parts of him continue their slow, consuming burn.

  “Renzo’s right,” she says flatly. “You’re after Lucky.”

  “Money’s no object,” he says, because it isn’t, not if she’s involved enough that she can casually take ownership of this floating palace and throw around a name like that.

  Lucky. Rumour made substance, that elusive something that will deliver him from a lifetime of boring projects for boring people. It’s taken substantial effort from Rob to breach Renzo’s defences in order to get close enough to deal, but she’s not going to be part of any victory. He can see that he’s blundered by trying to buy her off. So much for those instincts of mine.

  “Have a pleasant journey home, Mr Wright.”

  “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

  Her teeth are very slightly crooked. Her tongue swipes across her lower lip as she flashes those teeth in a predator’s smile. “If that’s the case, I sincerely hope you can swim.”

  The two security personnel who arrive to make him walk the plank are much showier than she is, with bulging muscles and Mediterranean machismo. He means to go quietly, with only a brief scuffle as he dislodges their meaty hands from his person so he can make his own way out to the speedboat, but they make such a fuss that they draw everyone’s attention.

  No doubt Vega wants it this way as entertainment for his legitimate guests, but Rob won’t put it past his mystery lady either. She’s conversing with an older couple, but when he’s frogmarched past her, that smirk is back on her face. He wonders briefly what she’ll do if he objects violently to his eviction. Judging from her nakedly bloodthirsty expression and his own steadily rising temper, he thinks they’d both probably enjoy it.

  Coming outside, he’s struck afresh by the impressiveness of his surroundings. Multi-layered and svelte, a functional fairytale in chrome, white and azure, the yacht is unquestionably state-of-the-art. He’s no expert, but even he can tell that the design’s unique, that there’ll be nothing like it in the world. Somehow this evidence of Vega’s creativity, of his limitless resources, makes Rob’s resolve even firmer.

  The guests are streaming up onto the deck behind him, forming a semicircle that includes his mystery lady. Her dark eyes are fathomless in the shadows, giving nothing away. Staff move silently among the throng, lighting torches that throw eerie firelight across the evening sky. It’s a cloudy evening with no stars, but Rob’s not really looking—he’s spotted the man who holds the rest of them in his orbit. He climbs to his feet, ignoring the two thugs who are ready to restrain him at an order.

  Renzo is on an upper deck, his three companions still twined around him. Rob has the sudden, startling impression that the man might unfasten his trousers, lift Blonde up against the railing and fuck her right there, in full view of them all. His stomach tightens.

  Nerves, he lies to himself, and steels them.

  “Vega,” Rob calls. His shout echoes, quieting the crowd. “Talk with me.”

  For once, Renzo Vega listens. He leans against the rail, gazing down. He’s a strikingly handsome man, this definition of a modern billionaire. He keeps his hair and beard cropped close, and there’s no glimpse of grey amidst the red-brown strands. His white linen shirt gapes open at the navel, revealing a firm stomach, and his shoulders and legs have the useful muscle that comes from a serious obsession with sailing. Rob’s mouth goes dry now that he has the man’s full attention.

  “Why? Do you have anything interesting to say?” There’s a ripple of laughter at the Argentine’s faintly accented question.

  “I want to know your secret.”

  “And which secret is that?”

  Rob gestures, taking in the party-goers in all their decadent glory, the shining ship. “I’m sure we’d all like to know just how you got so lucky.”

  There’s danger in the way Vega’s hands fasten on the railing. Even from this distance, Rob feels the shock of the man’s personality.

  “Jade, bring him to me.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jade,” Rob says when his mysterious Irishwoman gestures for Rob to precede her.

  As they make their way up the laddered stairwell to the deck above, she says, “I hope he leaves some of you for me to play with. You’ve got a cute arse for a complete idiot.”

  Rob chokes back a surprised laugh, then he’s pulling himself upright onto the rough surface of a helipad. Jade steps aside to let Vega’s playmates leave. He catches deadly glares from them. Clearly they resent the fact that their own assignations are at an end.

  Vega’s a tall, rangy man, six-four if he’s an inch. Rob, in contrast, is compact muscle, flirting with six feet but never minding that he’s missed it until this moment. They circle each other, sizing each other up, oblivious to the crowd below them to the right, and to the sheer drop down to the sea on the left.

  “Jade’s angry with you,” Vega says. “She’s protective of my privacy.”

  “You’re a difficult man to get hold of. Can I blame her for that?”

  Another circuit of the helipad. Vega moves fluidly and there’s no aspect of tension at all in the long lines of his body. He unbuttons an upper fastening of his shirt with a casual flick.

  “For a man who made his million designing algorithms to tell retailers what their shoppers want, you’re shit at understanding women, friend.”

  “Yeah, but I make up for it by knowing how to say ‘I’m sorry’.” Rob darts a glance to the rail to make sure she’s not going to come after him for that one, before allowing himself a satisfied nod. “You know me. Why I came.”

  “You don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, you invite yourself onto my sanctuary and make it clear you wish to have me alone.” Renzo’s hand drifts down to the next button on his shirt. “You tell me why you’re here.”

  The feint works and Rob is momentarily thrown. “I—”

  By the rail, Jade wolf-whistles. The sound of it jolts Rob back into the moment.

  “Vega—”

  “Call me Renzo. You’ve earned it, since you’ve pursued me with such dedication. I’ve enjoyed feeling so…desired.”

  Rob struggles to hold focus. Renzo is very near and he’s not sure how that happened.

  “It’s Lucky I’m after.”

  Renzo clips him on the jaw. Not hard enough to knock him flat, but enough to rock Rob back on his heels. Adrenaline fires through every synapse. He grins as frustration, distraction, confusion fade into nothing as the blood pounds in his ears. Rob grabs for Renzo and discovers he was wrong about a lack of tension. Pressed close to the other man’s body, he can feel coiled muscle, the rapid heartbeat, an interest that mirrors his own.

  “I can do this all night,” he warns, a strange jubilation growing within him. His instincts are singing, telling him that he was right to pursue this after all. “If you know my CV, you know my skills. You know that I’m the missing ingredient. I want to work with you.”

  “You’re asking to share Lucky with me? Do it again and you get more than a warning shot.”

  “Bring me onboard. You won’t regret it.”

  “I
mpossible,” Renzo snaps. He jerks up his arms, breaking Rob’s hold, then steps back, ending their conversation.

  “I can bring more to the table than you may realise. Fix flaws you don’t even know you have. Let me in on the design stage, whatever it is—”

  Vega shakes his head. “I admire your ambition. But Lucky’s her own woman, and you made a poor first impression.”

  …What?

  Rob’s so bemused he doesn’t notice the shadow behind him until Jade’s hooked her feet between his, unbalancing him against the rail. Warm hands on his shoulders, the rake of fingernails, then the vertiginous sensation of falling. He hits the pitch-black water, fast and painful, and all he has time to think as he sinks below the surface is, Well, she did warn me.

  Chapter Two

  Fifteen years previously, in the ridiculous sunshine of California, a younger version of Rob Wright had thrived on the free-wheeling culture of the place. Climbing walls in the ‘office’, the best tech in the world at his fingertips to play with, surfing whenever the mood took him and the weather was fine. Paradise, until the bubble had burst. Ten years onward, a pioneer adding the money-making backbone to the cheerful face of Web 2.0, he’s moved to a loft in grey Clerkenwell and found freedom in London’s streets on a stripped-down road bike. At no point in his history, however, has he imagined himself moving hand by hand up a trailing cable and out of the water, searching for a way onto one of the largest private yachts in the world.

  If I’m looking for a change of pace, I think I’ve found it.

  The reverb from the engines is rattling through his aching body. He flexes his cramping palms and risks a look over his shoulder. He’s been treading water long enough that a steady stream of water taxis are now busily taking guests back to shore in readiness for the ship’s departure. His bribes have earned him the information that Estrella’s next destination is the Greek Islands. It could be any number of days at sea, depending on the whims of its billionaire owner.

  So what the hell am I doing? Illegally boarding the private vessel of a man with his own security team just before it leaves port seems…unwise. But Rob’s aware that if instinct has been a third of his success, and skill another, the remaining puzzle piece has always been stubbornness. There’s something here for him, more even than he initially guessed, and he’s not leaving. I can’t.

  He finds an access point on the lower deck and scrambles over, leaving puddles of seawater as he goes. Discretion will be nearly impossible, he knows. Half a dozen silent alerts have probably already been triggered. But he’s counting on the same principle that got him this far already—at heart, Renzo Vega is an adventurer. He’s made his billions, and his reputation, by being all in, all the time, by working hard and playing harder. Rob’s jaw stings as he thinks about how it felt to engage with the man. God help him, but he’s eager for more. And there’s no way, no way, that Renzo won’t be just as intrigued by the challenge he’s offering.

  He encounters no one as he walks through the deserted passageways of the ship, even though he knows there must be at least twenty permanent crew. It’s as luxurious as a six-star hotel on this level and since the security boys haven’t come to stop him, he picks a guest room at random. Stripping out of his soaking clothes, he heads for the refuge of the en suite. The shower is bliss, soothing his salt-abraded skin and easing some of the bruises waiting to blossom. It also reawakens those parts of his body that were enthusiastically taking part in the proceedings before his unexpected dunking.

  Lucky, a woman. And judging from what I’ve seen of Jade so far, a very special one.

  He rubs his palms across his short hair, scattering water like a dog as he steps from the shower. The fluffy towels are of the finest quality, but when he goes to grab his clothing, all he finds is a damp patch on the carpet.

  So much for hospitality.

  It’s tempting to keep hold of the towel, but he resists the urge. He’s got a good body—toned and inked with plenty of street art to keep it colourful—and he’s not about to give his ‘hosts’ any advantage by playing shy. They want him naked? Fine. He wants their secrets laid bare, so he figures it’s a fair enough trade.

  Now it’s clear that there’s no point in subterfuge, Rob heads straight for the deck where he saw them last. He can already hear the sounds of laughter and the low beat of music. He emerges onto the deck without trying to hide his presence, but it’s simple caution that has him hanging back when he sees what he’s interrupting.

  Renzo reclines on a low lounger on the deck, his shirt now hanging off his shoulders and his trousers unfastened. The blonde guest from earlier—Cici, Rob hears Renzo call her—is naked from the waist up. She straddles his hips, bending forward so her hair trails over his chest in the wake of the biting kisses she’s leaving across his pectorals. The torches lining the railings give the whole scene a surreal tint, illuminating her in shadow and light. Her breasts are even more magnificent unrestrained. She’s squeezing them together, pushing their erect tips across Renzo’s stomach, and if the rhythmic thrusts of his pelvis into the air are any indication, the billionaire’s also imagining what they’ll feel like sheathing his cock.

  Renzo’s very masculine hands are splayed on Cici’s upturned, utterly feminine bottom. The picture is so inviting that Rob can’t decide what to watch—Cici making her voluptuous way across Renzo’s body, or Renzo’s fingers easing apart her cheeks like he has all the time in the world to indulge.

  Then he sees Jade, naked on a nearby deckchair. Her knees are up, her legs are spread, and Rob has a view that makes his balls throb. Her pussy is shaved except for a soft little patch that could cushion him just so if he sank into her. She’s gently tracing her swollen labia, and as a mirror to Renzo’s explorations, it’s a heady image. Yet while Renzo’s touch is proprietary, branding ownership, hers is raw self-indulgence. Jade’s eyes are heavy-lidded, fixed with fascination on her own movements. Every so often she’ll shiver and press down on her clit—hard, he can see the flex in those muscles of hers—then look over at where Cici and Renzo are entwined.

  By now, Cici is licking Renzo’s navel, lavishing attention with sucking mouth and jabbing tongue. Her breasts mound against him and Rob can almost feel their soft, insistent weight on his own body. The visual is vivid enough that he has to bite back a groan. Renzo’s cock is pushing at fabric, tenting his trousers as it strains. Cici whispers to him in Spanish, making Renzo chuckle. It’s a low, dirty sound. She reaches down to free him, to fondle him.

  He’s big, as big as me, maybe. Rob doesn’t realise his own stiffening cock is in his hand until gratification flares through him. He forgets himself in the pleasure of it, gasping aloud. For a moment he thinks he’s got away with it, but then he sees Jade. She’s frozen with her hands between her thighs, her eyes gleaming as she stares at him. An evil smile curves her lips.

  “Renzo,” she calls. “Company.”

  Renzo rolls onto his side, taking Cici with him and trapping her underneath his powerful body. His hips move as he ruts up against her before pushing himself into a standing position. Rob can’t tear his stare from Renzo’s full erection. Behind Renzo, Cici pouts and tugs at his hand. Renzo leans down, listening to her before stepping close enough to make the hairs on the back of Rob’s neck stand at alert.

  “I’ve lost money on you,” Renzo says. “I said you wouldn’t come back. Jade knew you would.”

  “Never bet against me,” Rob tells him, licking his dry lips. “Thanks for the shower.” He glances at Cici, then lingers on Jade. “And the peep show.”

  “I care about my prisoners’ well-being,” Renzo says.

  Rob’s stomach dips. “Prisoner?”

  “Mr Wright, you’re a stowaway with intentions of stealing from me. How should I deal with you?”

  “Not with thumbscrews, I hope.”

  “I don’t believe that’s a maritime tradition.” Renzo rubs his knuckles down Rob’s jaw, caressing the place where his punch had landed. Rob’s cock twitc
hes in response, eliciting a chuckle. “Now keelhauling. There’s a possibility.”

  “Had my bath today, cheers,” he says tightly. It’s getting more difficult to play casual—he probably shouldn’t find this as big a turn-on as he is.

  “It’s good you came back,” Renzo replies. His once-over is warm and unembarrassed. He turns to Jade. “Clap him in irons, corazón.”

  She stalks over to the storage trunk before returning with a pair of steel handcuffs. They’re standard UK police issue, no easy-to-break sex toy.

  “On your knees. Hands behind your back,” she tells him.

  Extremely reluctant, extremely aroused, Rob lowers himself to the deck and crosses his wrists at the base of his spine. Jade crouches behind him and snaps on the cuffs. Her lips brush his earlobe, making him shudder with both the sensation and the expectation of what she might say. But she doesn’t speak before returning to Renzo’s side. Her small brown nipples are puckered, begging to be touched. Rob flexes his wrists and meets with utter immobility. As if it knows its predicament, his erection jerks, seeking touch that’s not going to happen.

  “We’ve decided to torture you,” Renzo tells him, folding himself onto the lounger. “I think you’ll like it. Cici must return to the mainland, you see, and she’s asked for a farewell gift.”

  “You’re generous to a fault,” Rob says through a convulsive swallow.

  Renzo draws Cici back on top of him. She’s so pliant that Rob can barely stand to watch. Nearly boneless with lust, so soft against all that muscle, she lets Renzo position her along his body exactly how he wants.

  “Are we all comfortable?” Jade asks in her Irish lilt, still dangerously close to him, and Cici giggles until Renzo cuts her off with a kiss.

  It’s not just a good view, it’s a bloody indecent one.

  Rob’s had sex with multiple partners before—he loves an intriguing opportunity—but he’s never taken part without actually taking part. At first, the titillation of look-but-don’t-touch is potent enough. Cici is beautiful, and there’s clearly history between her and Renzo. Their familiarity with each other’s body means they know just where to touch, to stroke, to suck, to get the best reactions. Their eager noises, the ever-quickening slide of their bodies together, keep him simmering. But then Renzo’s hand curves back around Cici’s ass, and his blunt index finger again begins working its way between her cheeks, and Rob’s interest suddenly gets painful.