A Billionaire's Intent

by Starla Mason

  THIS BOOK IS INTENDED FOR ADULT READERS AGE 18+ AND CONTAINS EXPLICIT SEXUAL MATERIAL.

  The characters portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  A BILLIONAIRE’S INTENT

  VOLUME ONE: JACBOB AND OLIVIA

  Copyright © 2015 by Starla Mason

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, transmitted, or distributed in any electronic or written form without permission from the publisher.

  JACOB & OLIVIA

  Olivia Davis began lusting after Jacob Pemberly from very the moment she first laid her eyes upon him.

  Each night as she tossed and turned alone in bed, her slender fingers working in and out of her slippery womanhood, she’d try to think of a single reason why Jacob wasn’t perfect. She never failed to come up short. What wasn’t there to worship? He was hot, smart, powerful, rich, and he had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

  Olivia would often stew through dawn over her crush, flicking her nipples until her inner thighs were glossed with warm fluid, hardly noticing as the light outside changed from navy to amethyst, and then lightened to burnt umber. It was only as the sun began its ascent into the new day that she’d finally come, and it was only Jacob she ever imagined.

  Then would come the shame. But the shame Olivia felt did not stem from the erotic acts she’d preformed on herself (Olivia would be the first to argue that sexual expression was healthy and necessary for all women); no, it stemmed from the thoughts she’d had while doing them.

  As a scientist, Olivia prided herself on her practicality. It was because of this practicality that she was able to recognize just how far out of her league Jacob was. Jacob and Olivia, Olivia and Jacob—their tale was one as old as time, and it had such a predictable ending that Olivia frequently scolded herself for falling for a man so unattainable. Their story—the story of a debonair billionaire and shy scientist—would never be happily ever after.

  Jacob was beautiful. Painfully and unfairly beautiful, even, Olivia supposed. If he ever did touch her, she’d probably just drop dead on the spot, since his handsomeness was enough to make any woman’s heart stop.

  Of course, it wasn’t as if Olivia would ever have to worry about such a thing. Jacob didn’t even know Olivia was alive, a reality that she couldn’t begrudge Jacob too much for. (If she were to be completely truthful with herself, then she couldn’t begrudge him at all).

  For the past year, Olivia had been watching Jacob from afar. At precisely 7:58AM each weekday morning, she’d line up to scan her access card alongside the other eighty-five scientists who worked at Pemberly Technologies. As she waited, she’d steal glimpses of Jacob, standing in line at the coffee cart, looking polished but grave in the impeccably tailored Italian suits he was known for wearing. His hair was always slightly wet from the shower, combed in a neat style that was identical from each day to the next, as if he’d sat under a machine that had done the styling for him. Olivia’s pulse would go into overdrive as she imagined what his cleanliness smelled like: a sharp mixture of shampoo, silk, and spicy aftershave.

  Jacob would wait in line patiently, just like everybody else. It was a small act of humility Olivia never ceased to find surprising for a man in his position. He probably owned the coffee cart, just as he owned the building. And no matter how distracted Jacob seemed, he’d always thank the barista as he collected his drink. Then, like clockwork, he’d stride confidently towards the elevators, the financial section of the newspaper tucked securely under his elbow.

  Olivia tried to plan her arrival each day so that she could take the elevator with Jacob, but she could never get the timing quite right. She would arrive either a few seconds too early or too late, and it wasn’t as if she could wait for him. If she were to be quizzed about her lurking, she’d have no valid reason to justify her delay. Pemberly Technologies wasn’t the sort of place that encouraged employees to behave in a lackadaisical manner. Or like stalkers. Olivia valued her job, and out of all the people she could potentially creep out, Jacob Pemberly, CEO of the very corporation she worked for, was last on her list.

  Unlike the other scientists who worked at Pemberly, Mondays were Olivia’s favorite day of the week because that meant five whole days of Jacob. Fridays, of course, were her least favorite, because then she’d have to endure Saturday and Sunday without seeing her fantasy boyfriend.

  No matter what Olivia did, she tended to feel unfulfilled during the weekends. You’re so sad, Olivia, her sister Karen would lecture. Like a wet paper bag, moping around. You need to get out there and meet someone! You could have any man you wanted, if you only put yourself out there!

  Sure, Olivia had had boyfriends before, but now she didn’t want to meet just any old man. She wanted Jacob—only Jacob—not that she’d ever divulge this to her sister. If she did, Karen would think she’d gone mad.

  And Olivia did recognize that it was mad (and, yes, pathetic) to be committed to a man she’d never even spoken to. While she was at home on Saturday night, slumped over her desk, calculating test results and eating ice cream straight from the carton, Jacob was undoubtedly out screwing supermodels and drinking champagne out of designer stilettos. Olivia may have been infatuated with Jacob in a ludicrous way, but she was still shrewd enough to recognize that they lived in two completely different worlds.

  It was on a cold Monday in November that, ironically, Olivia’s luck took a turn for the better when she was mugged outside the Pemberly building.

  She’d been especially preoccupied that morning, engrossed in her warm (if not a little steamy) fantasies of Jacob. Olivia had managed to get herself worked up into such a state that she didn’t take notice of the man approaching her from behind.

  It was only when Olivia felt a hard shove against her shoulder that she snapped out of her daze. “Hand over your bag, bitch.”

  Olivia wheeled around to face a wild-eyed man in a dingy hooded sweatshirt. He was holding a gun on her. “No,” she said with a shake of her head. “No way.”

  If he wanted her satchel, he was going to have to kill her for it. It wasn’t her wallet or car keys that Olivia was concerned about. She knew better than to jeopardize her life over material possessions, not that forty dollars in cash and a seven-year-old sedan counted for much. But the serum notes were invaluable. Olivia had been working on the Pemberly Fifty formula for the better part of a year, and she wasn’t about to simply hand over her most recent calculations to some junkie on the street.

  The man gaped at her in amazement. His two front teeth were rotten and black, and he reeked of cheap vodka. “What did you say to me?” He pointed the gun towards her heart.

  Olivia refused to back down. “I. Said. No.”

  “That’s what I thought,” the man said, and then he lunged toward Olivia, clawing at the strap on her shoulder.

  “Help!” she screamed, fighting with all her might. “Somebody help me! I’m being attacked!”

  Olivia kicked out at the mugger, but he still managed to wrestle the bag from her arms, ripping her silk blouse wide open in the process. She continued to thrash out against him, her shirt be damned.

  The man licked his rotten teeth, eyeing the satchel greedily. “Must be a fortune in here!”

  “Help! Help me!” Olivia continued screaming. “Somebody hel—”

  Olivia doubled over in agony as her attacker booted her hard in the stomach. “Bitch!” he hissed, making his escape.

  Olivia made a move to chase after him but her tender insides had other plans. She collapsed to the ground, fighting to catch her breath.

  Her notes! He’d gotten away with her notes!
<
br />   A different man’s voice called out to her a few moments later. “Miss? Are you okay? Miss?”

  “Got . . . notes . . .” Olivia wheezed. “Stop . . . him.”

  “You,” the voice barked to a nearby onlooker, “call the police!”

  “Yes sir!” a man answered, and then his heavy footsteps faded into the distance.

  Dazed, Olivia rolled onto her back and saw a pair of (gorgeous) concerned blue eyes staring down at her. She focused hard on the mob of coworkers now crowding around her body, but she was too dizzy to make out individual faces. The bastard had really gotten her; the force of his kick had made her see stars.

  Olivia blinked away the white blotches. In the general direction of the voice she said, “He took my notes.” She ran her fingers over her torso to assess her injuries. It was tender, but she’d live.

  “Your notes?” the voice said, incredulous. “But . . . Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, waving a hand in dismissal. She struggled to her feet and lost her balance. A pair of strong hands reached out to steady her.

  “Maybe you should sit back down,” the voice suggested.

  “I’m fine,” Olivia repeated. “I just wish everyone would stop staring.”

  “Oh. There are staring, aren’t they?”

  For the first time since her attack, Olivia looked directly at the man speaking to her. Jacob Pemberly!

  “Here,” he said gently, “let me put this on you.” He removed his jacket and gingerly placed it around her shoulders.

  “But I’m not—”

  “No, really,” he smiled, eyeing her chest pointedly.

  Confused, Olivia looked down at her blouse, which was tattered beyond repair. Her lacy bra was exposed and her ample breasts were peeking out at the crowd. Olivia saw—just as Jacob had—that her nipples had constricted into tight little peaks.

  “Oh my God!” Olivia gasped, hastily closing the jacket over her chest. Though it was freezing outside, she could sense her cheeks growing hot.

  “Here,” Jacob said, holding out his arm for Olivia to take. “Let’s get you inside, shall we?”

  Olivia nodded and accepted his arm. Oh my God! Jacob Pemberly is touching me!

  Jacob led Olivia onto the elevator and then up to his office at the top of the building, floor twenty-five. Once they were inside, he shut the door gently behind them and eased her down onto a buttery soft leather chair.

  His office was just as Olivia had always imagined: sleekly decorated with understated but luxurious furnishings, a few modernist paintings on the wall, and a giant teak desk at the end of the room. Nothing but the best. Like Jacob’s suits, everything was muted black, grey, and dark brown.

  Embarrassed by all the attention she was receiving, Olivia ventured, “Mr. Pemberly—”

  “Jacob,” he smiled. He was even more beautiful up close!

  “Okay, Jacob,” she said, struggling hard to keep her voice steady. She’d had an easier time fighting with the mugger. “Really, I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine,” he said.

  Olivia’s heart sank over what she had interpreted as a slight. “Well I am,” she said tartly. What a grade-A jerk!

  Realizing that he’d offended her, Jacob quickly clarified, “No, I mean, of course you look great. Beautiful.”

  Okay, so maybe “grade-A jerk” was a tad harsh . . .

  Jacob crouched next to Olivia and examined her face. He was so close to her that she could feel his warm breath puffing against her jaw and smell his aftershave—spearmint and sandalwood. He touched her cheek softly and Olivia bit back a moan, hoping that he wasn’t noticing the intoxicating effect he was having on her. She felt drunk.

  “But this cut,” he said, his cobalt eyes scrutinizing her forehead. He tucked a strand of long dark hair behind her ear. “It doesn’t look so good.”

  Olivia shifted in her seat, feeling the space between her legs moisten. She wondered if the leather would be damp when she got up. Try playing that one off.

  She absentmindedly raised a hand to the wound. It was sticky but shallow. “I didn’t even realize that I’d hit my head,” she said.

  “Perhaps you’d like to use my bathroom,” Jacob offered. “There are towels in there, if you’d like to wash out your cut.” He made a move towards the phone on his desk. “I’ll have my assistant send up some ointment and bandages.”

  “Seriously, Mr.—err—Jacob, I’m fine.” She got up and headed towards the bathroom. “I just need a minute to pull myself together and then I’ll be on my way.”

  Olivia shut the door behind her in the bathroom and then let out a long exhale. She’d been holding her breath. She turned on the faucet and blinked at her reflection in the mirror. Surely she was sleepwalking inside a dream; nothing this amazing ever happened to her. (Well, excluding the mugging.)

  On the other side of the door, Jacob sighed with frustration. Pacing, he tried to think up something clever to tell Olivia so that she’d stay. Jacob didn’t want Olivia to go. Not at all.

  He’d been observing the delicate beauty from the corner of his eye for months and months, desperate for her to notice him. But she acted as if he were invisible. He couldn’t even begin to add up how much time he’d wasted standing in that damn coffee cart line every morning. He didn’t even like coffee! He’d only started going there because he’d hoped it would give him a chance to strike up a conversation with Olivia. But she wouldn’t go anywhere near him.

  He’d have to find a way to make a connection with her, and fast.

  But how?

  It was ridiculous! He was the head of a billion-dollar company. He had dozens of phone numbers he could call if he wanted a woman instantly at his side (or in his bed). Yet it was only Olivia he yearned for.

  He shook his head, ashamed of himself. What must Olivia think? He really hoped she hadn’t noticed the way he’d gotten an erection after he’d caught a glimpse of her firm breasts. How mortifying—he was worse than a teenager!

  But it wasn’t just her firm body, chocolaty hair, and dazzling honey eyes that drove him wild. She was so gutsy and unreadable, which made her different from any woman he’d ever known. Most women Jacob met were open books, vapid model types that would jump at the chance to grant his wildest wishes.

  Jacob had pulled Olivia’s employee file on the day he first noticed her. It was than that he’d discovered just how amazing she truly was. She’d graduated top of her class from one of the most respected universities in the world, and then went on to build a career as an esteemed biological anthropologist. At Pemberly Technologies, she worked with nonhuman primates, developing pharmaceuticals that would delay cognitive deterioration in Parkinson’s patients.

  During his research, Jacob also discovered that Olivia was what his lawyer had deemed “off limits.” Although Jacob seriously doubted that Olivia was the bogus lawsuit-filing type—especially after witnessing the way she’d risked her life to protect her research—his attorney worried that Pemberly Technologies (Jacob specifically) would be sued for sexual harassment. The last thing the shareholders needed was for “some female scientist” (the lawyer’s words, not Jacob’s) to take the company for millions of dollars, all because Jacob couldn’t keep his paws to himself.

  His attorney’s paranoia aside, Jacob wondered if he could ever be certain that Olivia truly wanted to be with him. Maybe she would only play along with his advances because she feared for her job. He didn’t want to make a move on her and give the false impression that he was a corporate sleazebag who preyed on his subordinates. Moreover, Olivia was a stunning academic. She was a perfect mixture of brains and beauty, and her work benefited humanity. How on earth could he catch the interest of such an incredible woman? She must have thousands of men lined up to date her.

  Inside the bathroom, Olivia removed her shredded blouse and examined her bruises. Jacob Pemberly—she still couldn’t believe that she was in his office! It was almost worth being mugged just to be in such close pro
ximity to him.

  She didn’t want to leave his office. If it were up to her, she’d stay all day.

  Sure, he’d offered his assistance, but he was clearly just being nice. It wasn’t as if he’d asked her out on a date. He was probably worried that she’d sue the company over her injuries. Everyone was so sue crazy these da—

  Jacob knocked at the door.

  “Yes?” Olivia squeaked, cursing herself for sounding like a schoolgirl. Jacob probably thought something was wrong with her, the way she kept carrying on and shooting him lovesick gazes.

  She opened the door a crack. “I’m sorry, Jacob. Am I taking too long in here?”

  Jacob frowned. “No, of course not. Please, take all the time you need.” He smiled shyly and offered her an expensive-looking white linen blouse. “This is my mother’s. She keeps a change of clothes here in my office in case we go to lunch or . . .” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I think you might be close to her size. I thought you might need a shirt since your other one is, you know, in pieces.”

  Jacob’s thoughts wondered to the image of Olivia’s hard nipples . . . And that sexy lace bra, and the swell of her breasts—

  He needed to focus. This was no time to act like a pervert. The poor woman had just been attacked! He’d have to take things slow and tread carefully if he wanted Olivia to see that he respected her.

  Olivia opened the door a little more so that she could take the shirt from Jacob. Her hand grazed his, and they jumped as their fingertips sparked.

  “Static electricity from the carpet,” Jacob said, feeling like a moron the instant he spoke. Way to impress her with your intellect, dummy.

  “Thanks for the shirt,” Olivia smiled. “I was actually kind of wondering how I was going to walk out of here.”

  Jacob chuckled as Olivia stepped back to shut the door. He caught another glimpse of her firm body and his cock twitched in his pants. He quickly turned away. Olivia said nothing more.

  Olivia eased the top over her head—designer, of course—and then fixed her makeup.