The CEO's Lucky Charm_A Billionaire Novella

by Stella Marie Alden

  I drive on the sidewalk, jump the next couple lights, and maneuver my way crosstown. Soon, we’re zooming up the West Side Highway with no signs of being followed in my rearview.

  “You got your phone on you?”

  She nods.

  “Toss it out the window.”

  Instead she looks at me like I’m a big moron and pulls out the battery. “It’s off. What now?”

  “This is your shit-show, princess. I was supposed to pick up some intel, give it to some fake Feds, then split. Now, I drop you off at whatever hotel you say. After? You call the real Feds, your embassy, or the holy ghost for all I care. They can come save you, eh?”

  “About that…” She bites her lower lip as she glances out the window. “I rather left in a hurry, as you may have noticed… ”

  I nod my head in the direction of her designer purse, the kind with stupid horseshoes all over a brown background that cost a fortune. “Surely, you got some kind of credit card in there?”

  “They’re all in my father’s name. By now, I’m sure they’re cancelled.”

  “Merde.” It’s already hard to stay in my lane while weaving in and out of traffic.

  With one hand, I reach for my wallet inside my tux and hand her my phone. “Find yourself a hotel and book a room. I’ll drop you off.”

  She looks at me as if I told her to find a spaceship.

  “For the love of Christ almighty. Don’t tell me. You’ve never done that, either.”

  She shakes her head, no.

  “How old are you?”

  “Oh, shut up.” She’s switched to Russian, crosses her arms and glares.

  Meanwhile I drive glancing in the rearview mirror. There’s one set of headlights that may be keeping pace. It could be the cops, I did steal a rather expensive car, or it could be her overly-controlling family.

  “Hold on. I press down on the pedal, my days as a car thief coming back as easily as riding a bike.

  The adrenaline kicks in and I smile as I figure out my destination. I’ve got a hotel near the Ranger’s rink where the staff has my back.

  “Do you think we’re being followed?” She twists in her seat, staring out the back window, pale as a ghost.

  Again, I wonder what the fuck happened to the FBI agents, Poppy and Tory. I got a sinking feeling that I should’ve called in their badge numbers to the New York office. Fuck everything. I’m as naive as the princess, here.

  The car that’s been tailing us comes into view. I slow down, letting them come right behind me, then crank the wheel. The back of the car twists to follow the front as we race across three lanes of traffic. Barely avoiding the cement barrier, we exit the highway.

  Behind us, tires screech and metallic bangs echo off the brick buildings. After a moment of silence, sirens, honking, and shouting indicate that we most likely lost our tail.

  Next, I need to ditch this bright yellow ride. “What the fuck have you got me into?”

  “If you recall, I tried to get rid of you.” She glares. “There was supposed to be an FBI agent, not you.”

  “About that. Tell me. Did you use your cell phone to place the call?”

  She nods. “What else would I use?”

  “I suspect someone’s made a copy. I don’t think the guys that asked me to help you were real FBI.”

  “Oh shit. They can do that?” She pales, eyes wide, making it hard to keep my eyes on the road.

  “Don’t you watch TV? Movies?”

  She curses in Russian. “I’m so screwed.”

  “Why, what’s on that drive.”

  “I shouldn’t tell you. It’ll put you in real danger.”

  “Now? You’re worried?” Is she fucking serious?

  I give her some credit for looking embarrassed. “Fine. It has some IP addresses, some passwords and a copy of an email. I guess maybe you’ve heard what business my father is in?”

  I shake my head, no. “Just rumors.”

  “You know the last big computer virus to hit the Ukraine?

  I nod.

  “That was him. Well, I should say, he brokered the deal. That’s what he does. Makes deals.”

  About now, I’m wondering how long it would take to high tail it back to Canada. My life, recently worth millions, is probably worth shit, except to the hitman contracted to kill me.

  When I’m certain we’re not being followed, I pull back onto 87, hopeful that the Porsche belongs to someone at the party, perhaps a friend of her father. They wouldn’t want GPS any more than I do right about now.

  Staying within the speed limit, about an hour later, I pull into the hotel. Thankfully, the place has vacancies because a lot of people are down at the shore. When I approach the front desk, the lobby clock reads ten o’clock.

  I show them my card, my VIP status pops up, and the young man at the desk smiles knowing how well I tip. “Very well Mr. and Mrs. Brown. You’re all set. Regular room?”

  I nod and he hands us a set of cards.

  Alone in the elevator, Sonia asks quietly. “So you’re pretty sure my father won’t be able to find us? Me?” Her eyes look to me as if maybe she no longer thinks I’m a worthless piece of shit.

  I’m not sure I like how some protective instinct in my chest tightens as I step out of the elevator and swipe the key card. Inside, the room has a small kitchenette, couch, desk and king-sized bed. Just right for training and occasional fucking.

  When I regard her wide-eyes, I wonder if she thinks I’d take her against her will and that pisses me off. So, maybe I’m too gruff when I point. “The couch pulls out. You can sleep there. Use the bathroom but be quick about it.”

  “I uh, have nothing to sleep in.” She shivers, rubbing her hands up and down her bare arms.

  “Well, princess, for the first time in your life, you may need to sleep in your underwear.”

  She blushes from head to toe and yeah, I can be a bit dense. It takes me a few moments. That dress fits her like a glove. No doubt she’s wearing nothing underneath.

  Oh shit. Blood rushes to my cock and my mouth goes dry as I stare. She’s so damn innocent and so damn beautiful. Way too good for the likes of someone like me.

  I take off my tux coat, my dress shirt, and shrug out of my undershirt, not bothering to sniff. “Here. You can sleep in this.”

  Eyes wide, she stares at my naked abs, and her pink tongue slips out to lick her lower lip. Like a deer in the nighttime frozen, she doesn’t move. Apparently now the foot is on the other shoe, eh?

  I won’t fuck her, not after what she’s just gone through. However, there’s nothing wrong with a small taste. Walking into her personal space slowly, I fear she might spook but she stands firm, eyes all over me. Eager hands reach, small delicate fingers touch the pack of muscles on my chest, and circle over a few of the larger scars. I let her explore, holding back, because if I touch her, that dress is coming right off and onto the floor.

  She lifts her lips, her eye lashes flutter, and she tastes so fucking good that I can’t help but want more. By the way she squirms against me, she wants it too. Her hands wrap around my neck, palms pressing in, long nails cutting into flesh, almost painful.

  Osti.. Does she have any idea how rough I like it? Probably not. It’d no doubt scare her to death.

  Mouth glued to hers, I rub my hands up and down her small curves. She’s tiny in comparison to the women I usually bed so I don’t get why I’m so strung out for want of her. As I thrust in my tongue, I lift the hem of her dress, almost undone by the feel of her naked ass.

  Quickly, she wraps her legs around my waist, her slick core wetting my skin above my navel her lips still locked.

  By all holy saints, I will have her.

  For a split second, sanity hits, and I pull my mouth off from hers, panting. Never before have I lost control, forgot my surroundings, and allowed emotions to rule.

  “Hell no. This isn’t going to happen. Not now. Not ever.” I unclamp her hands from around my neck, unlock her ankles, and step back. Then
I lean over, pick up my t-shirt and hand it to her.

  The hurt in her eyes makes me feel like a shit-head but hey, so be it. I don’t fuck unless I’m fully in control.

  She runs into the bathroom, slams the door, and blows her nose.

  Better that, than me ramming my large cock into the back of her womb, splitting her into pieces. I’d bite down too hard, thrust too hard, fuck too long. With her, I’d go out of my mind and that is one hundred percent unacceptable.

  Tossing some couch cushions on the floor, I pull out the folding bed, and open some closets to find some sheets. Not finding any, I call the front desk. Within minutes, they ring the door and I make her bed. When she comes out in my t-shirt, I turn away and wait for her small sobbing to stop. Once she’s breathing deeply, I jump out of bed, take a piss, and hop back under the covers.

  Sleep is elusive, though.

  What the fuck am I going to do now?

  Chapter 8

  Sonia

  Kit hears nothing, his breathing regular and deep. However, I’m wide awake thanks to a dump truck slamming its metal container onto the pavement. Even on the tenth floor, it rattles the hotel windows.

  Little red numbers on the alarm clock read three in the morning, taunting me as I try to close my eyes and go back to sleep.

  How did things go so wrong, so fast?

  I called the FBI and they promised me permanent residence after the handoff. I was all set. I’d win gold for the US of A. After that, skate professionally, find a good man, and live happily ever after.

  Everything was going perfectly until they decided to send in Mr. Bigshot-Hockey-Star. This is all their fault. I needed a dragon-slayer and they sent me a guy who hits little circles of plastic with a stick for a living.

  And where were they last night? I expected to be whisked away in a limo and set up at the Waldorf Astoria, not driven away by a madman in a stolen, yellow Porsche. I’m not buying his story that cell phones can be copied, not to that extent but you can be sure I’ll Google it.

  I stand and pace, no longer able to stay under the covers. I need to get my USB drive back and yet have no idea where he stashed it. After that, I know people who’ll be more than willing to help me sell the data to the highest bidder.

  With some money and my father either in jail or out of the country, I can start over.

  Not sure about my costs, I go into the bathroom and start a mental list. Skates, costume, rink time, trainer, agent, and…

  Maybe, I need to write this down.

  I sneak back into the room, open the drawer and find the pen and paper next to a Bible. Why do Americans need this in every hotel room? Do they pray for better service or ask God for mercy from bed bugs?

  Someday, I’ll ask.

  Tired, I place thick towels into the tub and lie down, my pen overhead but all I can do is think of Kit’s rejection.

  Now, I must act as if last night’s kiss never happened and ignore what goes on between my legs. This makes twice he’s rejected me. He obviously prefers women with cantaloupes and big behinds. I’ve seen pictures all over the internet that prove it.

  Dammit, I’m a professional. When I fall, I brush myself off and continue. So what if my small breasts don’t entice the likes of Kit Tufek. My body is like my mother’s and everyone says she was beautiful. Screw you, stud muffin.

  Giving up on the list, I crack open the bathroom door. In the dim light, he snores, sheets moving with each breath. With his face relaxed, he’s even more handsome. It’s pathetic how I try to find flaws. Maybe his nose is just a little crooked and there’s a small scar over his right eyebrow. I bet his front teeth are fake.

  Who am I kidding? His hair is thick, his lashes long, and his beautiful cheeks covered in a short, sexy, growth. And when his thick lips purse, I recall how soft and wonderful…

  Shit. These kinds of thoughts make my breasts ache and my clit swell. Unless I want to spend the next thirty minutes relieving myself, I need to get the hell out of this room.

  Quietly, I slide into his white dress shirt, add his tux coat, and wrap his belt around me twice. With heels, the look’s not so bad for five in the morning. I’m covered up enough to find a cup of coffee and maybe some breakfast.

  Unfortunately, the hotel kitchen is closed but the night manager at the desk is kind enough to suggest a diner across the street. In that no one’s about, it seems like a pretty good idea. Yesterday, I was so nervous, I ate nothing at all.

  The diner has the New York Times so I buy one. It’s either that or watch a sit-com from the sixties on a small monitor over the bar where a waitress sits, grey as the black and white TV. How convenient to find Kit’s wallet in his inner pocket. He shouldn’t mind if I borrow a few bucks. He’s famous, probably very rich.

  It’s feels good to order eggs, sausage, and toast knowing Leonid would blow a gasket. Even an extra pound can make a huge difference when attempting triple-jumps.

  Today, I don’t care. I’m going to eat what I want and focus on the crossword.

  Hmm… One Down. They were here first.

  I n d i a n.

  That fits. One across. See one down.

  I n d i g i n o us.

  As I work out the riddles, I order another cup of coffee and a donut. I’m close to done when someone, cursing in French, enters the restaurant.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?” Shirtless, Kit Tufek stomps through the small isle between the tables while every woman age two to ninety ogles him.

  “Let’s go.” He grabs my wrist and pulls me to standing.

  “You’re making a scene.” I was so engrossed in the puzzle, I didn’t notice the sun come up or that the place has filled with customers.

  My waitress looks like she might call the police as does a nice woman with a couple of sticky-faced kids.

  For a moment, I think he sees how others might be perceiving him. When he smiles, it’s not the friendly kind, and he says so loud that the whole damn diner can hear, “Sorry folks. We were…”

  He glances at the kids… “Uh… having a sleep-over last night.”

  Opening my coat, he pulls out leather from an inner pocket and holds it high. “This lady stole my wallet. Come along. Nice people aren’t supposed to see people like you during the day. After I pay for your services, you can go back to work. Breakfast is on me.”

  People are staring with their mouths wide. Dressed in his fancy clothes, I look exactly like what he implied, a working girl. My face goes bright red and I put a sleeve over my face when a young man snaps a photo.

  Holding my hand tightly, Kit fumes silently as we cross the street and walk through the lobby. What I was wearing was fine in the wee hours before dawn. Now, surrounded by business people, not so much. I’d crawl deep into a hole if one was available.

  Once back in my room, he pushes me to sit down on the pull-out bed. It doesn’t hurt. However, it does sting my already bruised ego.

  “I can’t believe you said that about me.” I kick his shins.

  “Well, princess, we’re even. I can’t believe you left the hotel without telling me.”

  “I was just across the street.”

  “And you didn’t think to even leave a note? Are you that selfish? T’es ben agrès?”

  “I’m not stupid.” A huge knot forms in my throat. He’s right, I should’ve told him where I was but I’m not going to apologize, not unless he does first.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, his long shirtsleeves swing, making me look like Dopey in the movie, Snow White. It’s not a great look.

  He, however, looks awesome as he looms over me half naked, his arm muscles bulging as he clenches and unclenches his fist. “You know what you are? My worst nightmare.”

  “Oh, and maybe you are sweet dreams?” I have to push at his thighs in order to stand and then my neck hurts from glaring up into his angry, red face.

  Removing the disadvantage, I jump onto the bed and get to higher ground. Now he knows what it’s like to have someone stare do
wn at him, all high and mighty.

  Unfortunately, this puts his nose to my navel, and with him wearing no shirt and smelling so good, my heart races. If I was wearing any panties, which I’m not, they’d be soaked. In truth, I don’t want to fight with this hockey player, I’d much rather kiss him. He saved my life, gave me a place to stay the night, and has been my reluctant hero.

  I reach out my hand to soothe where his jaw is angry, teeth grinding. “I’m truly sorry, uh… Mr…”

  My mind goes completely blank. That’s what I’m talking about. The man makes me crazy.

  “Tufek. Kit Tufek.” When he smiles, the air in the room fills with sexual current, a thunderstorm of sorts.

  His hand covers mine still resting on his cheek and I gasp. What is it about him that makes me want to take my clothes off? In my whole life, no one has ever made me feel this way.

  He kisses my navel. lifts me up by the waist, and sets me down in front of him. Gently, he leans over, our lips touch, and wham! Like last night, the temperature in the room rises ten degrees.

  His spiky hair slips between my fingers, as I hold onto the back of his head. Will he find me lacking? Push me away? I want him to make love to me, to make all the bad things in my life disappear.

  “I need to know one thing before we start.” I let go where my nails were digging into his scalp.

  He moans, the front of his pants bulging plenty. “Ask away. Just make it fast.”

  “What happened last night?” Bolder than I’ve ever been in my life, I put my hand on top of his fly, surprised how he grows at my touch.

  “Fuck. This. You.” He unbuttons, unzips his fly, and his thick cock jumps out.

  Confused, I wrap my fingers around him, loving the silkiness. “What’s wrong with this?”

  “You make me out of control. I don’t want to fuck you like dat. You deserve better.” At his confession, his brows crunch together, like he’s in some kind of pain.

  “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  He says something in French, his lips crash onto mine, and his tongue plunges deep into my mouth. I open wide, my palms enjoying the feel of his unshaved cheeks, his neck, and his shoulders. When I take a bite of his lower lip, he yelps, and smiles slowly, hand to his mouth. He licks away the blood more like a wolf than a man