The Billionaire's Contract 3: Aftermath

by Alicia Roberts

  I lay quietly for a few seconds, completely spent as Brad continued to pound into me. His thrusting grew erratic and I saw him close his eyes and stiffen, and I felt him release his come inside me, growing limp and then slowly moving out.

  We lay side by side, exhausted, and I wished the moment would continue forever. But I knew it wouldn't - I just hoped that Brad would remember this and think that nothing else could compare. I know that's how I felt.

  Chapter Five

  There was no reason to hate Naomi, and yet I did.

  She was beautiful, intelligent and nice to me. I tried my best to respond in kind, but too often I felt her presence when Brad and I should be alone. They made no secret about the fact that they were good friends, and the three of us would hang out often, watching a movie or TV series. I wanted Brad to drape his arm around me or hold me close, but with another woman there, I felt the electric charge between us had reduced a bit, or had some kind of strange undercurrent. Occasionally I felt Brad's eyes on me, and when I glanced at him I couldn't read his face.

  Three weeks passed by, and I was sure Brad wasn't sleeping with her… We fell asleep together every night, and I couldn't make out anything sexual in the way he and Naomi bantered. I was convinced they were platonic friends - maybe there was once something between them, but there certainly wasn't anything now. Or was there?

  The thought that he was cheating on me never left my mind, as I convinced myself first one way, and then the other.

  Predictably, our sex life fizzled a bit. There were times when everything was as great as always, and times when I wondered if the frequency had gone down a bit because he was with someone else. Whenever I had that thought, I'd shake my head and think, "Nah, it's just stress." But I wasn't entirely convinced.

  I wanted to be alone with Brad - why had he brought this woman into our house?

  "We should get away together, go somewhere one last time," I suggested.

  I thought I saw something flicker in Brad's eyes. For an instant I thought he felt the same loss I was feeling, the sadness that our year together was ending. Or was I just hoping to see what I wanted?

  At least Brad agreed we should go somewhere together, and a few days later he said, "I've booked a trip to Paris for us!"

  I was excited - we'd be reliving our time in Paris, those magical moments that had convinced me I should agree to Brad's proposal.

  However, my excitement was short-lived. I woke early one morning, and realized Brad's side of the bed was empty.

  With a feeling of dread in my stomach, I climbed up the stairs softly. I already knew what I'd see. When I was almost at Naomi's door, I could see that it was slightly ajar. The sounds of low conversation and laughter reached my ears. I wanted to throw up.

  I couldn't go any further, I didn't want to open the door. I simply stood frozen in shock.

  I finally made my way back to bed and lay there silently, pretending to be asleep when Brad finally came back and went to the walk-in closet where he changed into his suit.

  I lay in bed for half the day, crying like a baby and feeling incredibly sick. When I finally made my way down for breakfast, Eva took one look at me and asked me what was wrong.

  I didn't pretend that things were ok. "Brad's sleeping with Naomi," I said softly.

  "Nonsense!"

  Eva wouldn't hear of it, and her stoic determination made me feel a bit better. Still, I pretended to be sick for the next few days just to avoid having to face Brad and Naomi.

  Finally, it was time to leave for Paris. As soon as we were in the limo and heading towards Brad's private jet, I thought I'd confront him about Naomi. But when I looked at him, I could only think that our year together would be over in a few weeks. If Brad didn't feel the same way I did, why not just end things on a dignified note? There was no point in making a fool of myself - I might as well just try to enjoy Paris.

  We stayed in the Presidential Suite at the Hyatt again, and Paris was beautiful and romantic. But I felt dead inside, and I thought nothing could hold any charms for me. When we entered the suite, I decided that although it had once seemed glamorous and extravagant, it now looked like a tacky, over-decorated prison.

  Thankfully, Brad sensed my mood and didn't insist on trying to be romantic or wanting to relive our first steamy times in the suite. Once we'd changed and had a bit to eat, we wandered the streets of Paris like a normal couple.

  We walked through the narrow streets, and along the banks of the Seine. A few hours there was all it took for the magic of Paris to infuse my senses, and once again I admired the romantic, old-world atmosphere and the beauty of the city.

  "I don't want any fancy meals this time," I told Brad, and he smiled and nodded.

  We had lunch at a tiny café and then visited the Notre Dame to admire its gorgeous architecture and stained glass windows. We browsed through some shops, though I wasn't in the mood to buy anything, and at night we admired the Eiffel tower lit up like a large, sparkling candle.

  The next day we headed to the Musee d'Orsay, and I admired the collection of Impressionist art that I hadn't gotten a chance to see on the first visit. Specks of paint created gorgeous illusions, and while I admired the paintings, I recalled the feelings of confusion I'd had at the Louvre almost a year ago, when I'd needed to decide whether or not to go ahead with this "marriage". We strolled hand in hand through the gallery, and I found myself wondering if I'd come back here again, and if so, who I'd be with.

  After the museum closed, we stopped briefly at the hotel to change and then went down to the river. Brad had booked us a romantic dinner cruise along the Seine, and I loved every moment of it. The dinner was simple and elegant, and the river was gorgeous and shimmered with the night lights, the city lit up on either side of us.

  We were meant to leave just before lunch on the third day, and we hadn't decided what to do with the few extra hours.

  "Let's buy something," suggested Brad in the morning, "Something to remember this time by."

  "That's ok," I said, "We don't have to remember this time. I know you want it to be over, and you'll soon be happy and free, you can do whatever you want and whoever you want. Why bother remembering now?"

  Brad looked puzzled, seemed about to say something, and then stopped himself.

  "Are you looking forward to the year being over?" he finally asked, placing his hand over mine, his blue eyes piercing mine.

  I felt sparks travel up my arm, but I looked away, shrugged and refused to answer directly.

  I knew he would be happy to have me out of his life, and even though I hadn't managed to win his heart, I'd have a nifty million dollars of my own to console myself with. "I'll buy my happiness," I thought, "Money can buy just about anything."

  Instead of shopping, we spent the morning wandering through the Tuileries Gardens, making polite conversation and indulging in some people-watching. When we were finally on the plane heading back home, we both were dissatisfied. I could read it in Brad's face, and I regretted not enjoying myself properly.

  I shouldn't care about who Brad was sleeping with. The year was almost over, this had been a smart career move, and I'd be on my way pretty soon.

  Chapter Six

  Friday night, I went out with a bunch of friends from college. I wouldn't be coming back in fall - I'd gotten into NYU and I'd be going there. But we all wanted to stay in touch, and we proceeded to laugh and talk raucously through dinner. I had a few drinks, but I decided not to follow the kids who went clubbing afterwards - I'd been too old for the club scene for a while now.

  I got home and found Brad sitting on the bed, flipping through his smartphone.

  "What're you looking at?" I asked.

  He showed me silently. Photos of us, taken just a few days ago in Paris.

  I was in a good mood, and decided to be nice for our last few days together. "That was a good time, wasn't it?"

  He stared at me blankly.

  "I mean, it was a nice way to end our time together, rig
ht? We only have two more weeks…" I faltered, seeing his blank look.

  His eyes looked at me without any expression, and finally, he said slowly, "I should have seen it. I can't believe I was so blind, now I understand why you're so happy to move on."

  I raised an eyebrow. "You're only figuring out now that I know about Naomi? Yeah, whatever." I wouldn't lose my cool.

  He looked puzzled, "Naomi?" He shook his head. "No, I read your thing. About Clive."

  And then I noticed the paper lying beside him.

  I picked it up - it was a stupid poem I'd written for a creative writing assignment. It was all about my affair with a boy in my class named Clive and how the passionate lovemaking released me from the drudgery of my married life… It was so stupid that once I saw it in print, I knew I could never submit it. I hadn't realized it had been lying around all this time.

  "It's dumb, huh?" I didn't realize why he was so upset over my bad writing. And then it struck me. "Oh no. Wait. You don't think…?" I smiled sardonically and looked at him.

  I would've laughed if I hadn't seen actual pain in his eyes. He'd been so nice to me, he'd helped me get into college and pick up the pieces of my life again. So what if he wanted to sleep with Naomi? I couldn't hurt his feelings like that.

  I wanted to shake him like a leaf, shake some sense into him. But instead, I grabbed his arm and said, "Brad, don't be stupid, it's a dumb poem for a stupid English class. It's so dumb I couldn't even submit it."

  He looked at me coolly and said, "It seems real enough."

  "Are you kidding me?" I felt exasperated. "There's no Clive, it's a stupid made-up name! Anyway, why do you care, you've got Naomi…" I covered my mouth as soon as the words slipped out. I didn't want to know the truth, I wanted to keep living in my fantasy.

  "Yes, I have Naomi," he said, "But that's not the same as Clive, clearly."

  My anger flared up. "Oh right, because she's real and you two are all passionate and fucking your brains out?"

  "That's a disgusting thing to say."

  "Oh is it? Like you haven't been going up to her room when I'm asleep. You bang me and then go to her for seconds?" I started crying. "Do you meet her during the day? How could you do this to me? Why did you have to bring her here?" I couldn't control my sobs and I felt his arms around me. "I know it's all fake," I sobbed, "but maybe…"

  My sobs took over, I couldn't continue and explain that even if it was fake, maybe he could pretend to be monogamous too?

  He was stroking my hair now, and even though I hated him, the smooth gentle touch calmed me down a bit and brought me back to my senses. I need to preserve some dignity, I thought, and I wiped back the tears.

  Brad held my face in his hands, forcing me to look into his eyes. They were serious and intent, and he said softly, "I'm sorry. I wanted to see if you cared or not."

  I snapped my head back and looked at him in horror. "That's a terrible thing to do."

  He was smiling and my eyes flashed with hatred as I said, "And I don't care. I think you're a jerk and you two deserve each other."

  Brad laughed happily and somehow I felt his arms around me, hugging me tight as he kissed the side of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "Well, I care," he murmured, "And I didn't know how else to find out if you cared or not."

  I started crying again, a stupid mess of hormones, and Brad tried to cheer me up. "I thought if you cared, you'd say something earlier," he smiled but I merely collapsed on the bed, in tears and unable to think straight.

  Chapter Seven

  "Naomi's my cousin," Brad explained when I'd calmed down a bit. "We’re quite close, and she had a bad breakup. I told her she could live here while she looked for a new place. I trust her instincts, and I thought she might be able to tell me if you were ok for me, that I wasn't nuts to want to be with you."

  "Does she even work in accounting?"

  "Yes, she's an accountant."

  Of course, I thought, she was far too smart to be an assistant. And those blue eyes, the same as Brad's - I must've been stupid not to see the resemblance between them.

  "Maybe we should go to Paris again," Brad suggested, "Maybe we should do it properly?"

  I shook my head no. "Let's go somewhere new. Milan? Rome?"

  "We’ll see. But maybe we should have a proper wedding party first? Renew our vows and invite all our family?"

  I laughed happily, imagining a proper ceremony and a white dress, thinking of how much fun we'd have together.

  Alicia Roberts Is The Author Of:

  The Billionaire's Contract, Adult Romance Series:

  The Billionaire's Contract: Proposals

  The Billionaire's Contract 2: Considerations

  The Billionaire's Contract 3: Aftermath

  Student-Teacher BDSM: Adult Erotica For Women

  Punished By The Principal

  Punished By The History Teacher

  Seducing Her Professor

  She is available on twitter; her username is @AliciaRRoberts

  She blogs at http://aliciarroberts.wordpress.com