The British Billionaire Bachelor

by Maggie Carpenter

  Belle was stunned. Not only had she thought they would chat before getting down to business, he had articulated her concerns brilliantly, better than she could have.

  “Yes, Mr. Sinclair. That is an accurate assessment.”

  “I believe I have the solution,” he declared, reaching for the folder from which he’d been reading. “Here is an agreement,” he continued, offering it to her. “I will, of course, contact your manager to make sure it meets with her approval, but before I trouble her I must make sure it is acceptable to you. Why don’t you look it over now and give me your answer.”

  “I’d be happy to,” she replied, and as she took the folder from his hands, she couldn’t help but notice his perfectly manicured fingernails.

  His sparkling eyes were boring into hers, and she had an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach, but ignoring the pending butterfly attack, she sat back, opened it up and began to read.

  Belle Somers agrees and accepts the following terms and conditions relative to her services as a Personal Assistant to Simon Sinclair of Sinclair Holdings, Ltd. as it relates to the purchase of residential real estate.

  For a minimum of one month and a maximum of six months:

  Ms. Somers will receive compensation in the amount of $2000 per week.

  Ms. Somers will work exclusively for Sinclair Holdings, Ltd.

  Ms. Somers can terminate her services at any time with 24 hours written notice.

  Sinclair Holdings, Ltd. can terminate Ms. Somers employment at any time with 24 hours written notice.

  “Mr. Sinclair, this is more than generous,” Belle smiled, looking up at him.

  “Excellent. There is one other provision, but those details will be provided to you after dinner, which should be arriving momentarily.”

  “We’re having dinner in here?” she asked, a little puzzled. She had assumed they would be eating in the hotel dining room.

  “I don’t eat in restaurants if I can help it,” he replied briskly. “I don’t care to overhear the conversations of others, and even what is more important, I don’t care for others to listen to mine.”

  “Ah, yes. Well, that does make sense,” she said, and thought, I wonder if this is how all billionaires operate.

  “Would you care for that drink now?” he asked, standing up.

  “Yes, thank you,” she replied.

  “I have an excellent Meritage–or would you prefer something stronger?”

  “A glass of Meritage sounds perfect,” she smiled, believing that her precognition was absolutely correct and she was, indeed, stepping into a grand adventure.

  A short time later, there was a knock on the door, and dinner was served with aplomb by two waiters who presented three separate appetizers and entrees, one each of vegetarian, chicken, and fish.

  “I cannot abide the smell of cooked meat,” he informed her, and having not eaten meat herself for years, she understood completely. As they began to consume the gourmet meal, he went into great detail about the type of house he was seeking.

  Belle was captivated by him. Simon Sinclair seemed to look right through her, and on more than one occasion she had to drop her eyes. He was extremely polite, and his deep British-accented voice sent a warm wanting through her loins, which she tried very hard to ignore but found almost impossible. When the dinner was over he walked behind her chair and took her hand. It was their first physical contact; his palm was soft and smooth, but his grip strong and sure, and the warm wanting turned into an intoxicating heat.

  “I believe that concludes our business for this evening,” he declared reaching into his breast pocket, removing his cell phone and tapping the screen. “Cecil will be here momentarily to escort you back to the parking area.”

  “Mr. Sinclair, I am very excited at the prospect of working for you,” Belle smiled, completely enchanted by him. “This has been a delightful evening. Thank you.”

  “You’re a charming lady, Ms. Somers. I’m sure we will get along splendidly,” he smiled, walking to the desk against the windows that overlooked a patio. “But there is the matter of the additional provision. It is in here,” he declared, picking up a manila envelope. “Please read it after you leave, and consider it carefully before making your decision. It is not a condition of employment and you are most definitely hired, but it still requires a response.”

  She moved towards him, and feeling a little unsteady from both the wine and the effects of his oozing sensuality, took the envelope from his hands.

  “You may have questions but the matter is not open for discussion,” he declared firmly. “It is a simple yes or no, and this entire matter will be known between us, and only us. Please text me your answer at the number I have included in the provision. You can let me know tonight, tomorrow, at any time.”

  “Whatever I decide you’ll know by morning,” she promised, completely intrigued.

  He raised a single eyebrow, and an expression crossed his face that Belle could not discern.

  “You really don’t have to. I mean, there’s no rush, Ms. Somers.”

  For the first time since she had met him he appeared a little ill at ease.

  “I’m afraid it’s a flaw and an attribute,” she said quickly, hoping she hadn’t said something wrong. “I don’t like loose ends. I will make my decision and text you before we meet again, regardless of what the provision might be.”

  “As you wish,” he replied. “Please give me your cell phone number so I may enter it into my phone. I like to know who’s calling me.”

  “Certainly. Perhaps you could give me yours as well,” she suggested.

  “Very well,” he agreed. “Since we’re both here...”

  Belle couldn’t help but notice a slight frown as she withdrew her very old phone and punched in the number he provided. She was about to make an excuse for the dated device when he flicked his eyes up and looked over her shoulder. She turned to see Cecil entering the room.

  “Ah, Cecil–you have Miss Somer’s coat?”

  “I do, sir,” he smiled, his quick short steps carrying him forward, and he held it open as Belle slipped her arms in the sleeves.

  “Thank you again, Mr. Sinclair. I’m sure I’ll be able to find you the perfect home,” she promised, extending her hand to shake his.

  As his fingers curled around hers, the smooth strength of his grip making her toes curl, she unexpectedly found herself thinking how marvelous his hands would feel roaming across her bottom, moments before slapping her skin, staining it with a bright pink mark–

  “I’m sure you will,” he nodded, releasing her hand, breaking into her salacious fantasy. “Goodnight.”

  Clutching the envelope, she stepped out into the night, grateful for the cool, refreshing air. Cecil had picked up her briefcase, and quietly followed her through the grounds. When they reached the parking area she found Parker waiting at the car, holding the door open. Thanking Cecil, she settled into the back seat and found the switch for the overhead light. She couldn’t wait to read the mysterious provision.

  As the car pulled slowly out of the circular drive and on to the street, she ripped open the top of the envelope, only to discover a second, smaller one, made from expensive linen paper with gold-embossed edging, her name handwritten across the front. Anxiously she pried open the flap, withdrew the folded notepaper inside, and with bated breath, flipped it open and began to read.

  Ms. Somers:

  You agree to be subject to my discipline in the event I feel it necessary, such discipline to be a spanking, the location and severity to be determined by me. Such infractions worthy of discipline will include but are not limited to:

  Tardiness, inaccurate information, mistakes in contracts, showing properties that do not meet my criteria, and any failure to address me as Sir, or Mr. Sinclair.

  During said disciplinary sessions, you will refer to me only as Sir.

  This agreement will be held in the strictest of confidence; any mention of it to a third party will be grounds for instan
t dismissal.

  Such agreement is not a condition of employment.

  When you have reached a decision, please text me Yes or No at the following number. 001-33-3944.

  Sincerely,

  Simon Sinclair

  For a moment Belle thought she was seeing things, that her imagination had created the words on the page, but the surge of heat between her legs, and the unexpected birth of a thousand butterflies bursting forth in her stomach, told her the written words were absolutely real.

  She had so many questions, but he had made it very clear she could ask nothing. Was this something he suggested to all the women he hired? Was it even legal? Surely it was sexual harassment, except the note did state it was not a condition of employment. Her mouth was inexplicably dry, and she reached for a bottle of water from the liquor cabinet.

  After taking a long drink she leaned her head back against the seat. If there was anyone she would love to have spank her, it was Simon Sinclair. Just the thought of it made her wriggle. Staring down at the note she read it a second time. To be spanked by Simon Sinclair! She could scarcely believe it.

  Unexpectedly she burst out laughing. It was absolutely absurd. Maybe it was a joke. Maybe it was a test, but what kind of test could it possibly be? Maybe he wanted her to say no, but that was a ridiculous notion. She stared out the window, her mind buzzing.

  Of course she wanted to say yes. She wanted to scream it, to yell it from the rooftops! $2000 a week and all she had to do to be spanked was make a boo-boo.

  Grabbing for her briefcase, she fished around for her cell phone, then remembered it was in her coat pocket. As she pulled it out, she paused.

  Maybe it was too soon, maybe she’d appear too eager, but suddenly she didn’t care. The whole idea was a total turn-on and she couldn’t believe her luck.

  Heart in her mouth, she opened her phone and pressed the numbers, but when the ringing sounded she realized in her excitement that she had called him, not texted. A scalding heat seared through her, and in a panic she reached to disconnect the call. She was too late!

  She clenched her teeth as she heard his voice.

  “Ms. Somers,” he stated, sounding a little annoyed.

  “Oh dear–I’m so dreadfully sorry!” she exclaimed, her face burning, feeling completely foolish. “I meant to text but–”

  “I see. Then you’d better hang up and do so,” he quipped.

  “Can’t I just tell you?”

  “I made it clear you were to text me. Can you not follow a simple instruction?” he scolded.

  “Yes, Sir. Of course. I’ll hang up and text you right away.”

  The call disconnected and she slapped her forehead.

  “You idiot!” she yelled out loud. “You total and complete idiot.”

  “Is everything all right, Ms. Somers?” Parker inquired, staring at her reflection in the rearview mirror.

  “Yes! Oh good grief. I just did something incredibly stupid,” she replied, trying to catch her breath and calm her pounding heart.

  Sliding open the phone to expose the tiny keyboard, she entered his number and typed–Yes–then hit the send button.

  Taking a deep breath, she placed the half-empty bottle of water back in the bar cabinet and reached for the vodka. Talk about needing a drink! She was just about to pour herself a shot when her phone buzzed, making her jump! Glancing down she saw it was a text, from him.

  I exact discipline immediately. You did not text as I instructed. Parker has been ordered to turn the car around. Do you accept that you are about to receive your first spanking based upon your acceptance of the provision? Yes or no?

  She stared at the screen, feeling the car make a U-turn. A hand clutched her throat, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe.

  No–no–I mean–yes–but not yet–not already, she silently cried, her head spinning. What do I do? Dammit! I said yes–oh, I do want him to spank me–I do, I do!

  With trembling fingers she typed in Yes and sent the text, then suddenly panicked a second time–she had not added ‘Sir’. As fast as her shaking fingers would allow, she added Sir and punched Send.

  Almost immediately her phone buzzed, another message!

  Received

  Aaarrggh...

  The car was only minutes from the hotel, but the drive seemed endless. Her heart was hammering and she could feel herself breaking into a sweat. When the limousine pulled up to the awning, she found herself again, being met by the affable, efficient Cecil, who led her down the winding path back to Simon Sinclair’s suite.

  Does Cecil know? she wondered, thinking she’d be absolutely mortified if he did. He probably knows everything that goes on, but Simon said it was completely confidential. Oh good grief. I can’t believe this is happening!

  When they reached the suite, as before, the door was open, but this time Cecil did not enter ahead of her.

  “I’ll be saying goodnight now, Ms. Somers. I’ll see you again I’m sure,” and with a slight bob of his head, he disappeared into the night.

  Tentatively Belle stepped through the door, closing it behind her. Simon Sinclair was nowhere to be seen, but as she ventured further into the room, she saw an envelope sitting on the coffee table with her name on it. Dropping her briefcase and throwing her coat on a nearby chair, she picked up the envelope and ripped it open.

  Ms. Somers:

  I am surprised you made a mistake so soon. Two mistakes in fact. Perhaps you have a subconscious desire to be spanked. Be aware that I will not be manipulated, and should you purposely make mistakes or are tardy by design, you will be dealt with in a manner you will not appreciate–or I may simply terminate our arrangement.

  However, in this instance, I do not believe you called me or neglected to refer to me as Sir in order to be disciplined. You shall be spanked accordingly.

  Please remove your shoes, stand facing the back of the sofa, place yourself over it, take hold of a cushion and bury your face. Should you desire to cry out, this will allow you to do so without creating a disturbance. You will wait there, positioned as described.

  Sir

  Good grief. Am I really going to do this? So much for making mistakes when I want to get my butt slapped, she thought, kicking off her shoes and walking around to the back of the couch. Lord. If I saw this in a movie I’d be rolling my eyes in contempt. Like this would ever happen!

  Bending over the back of the couch, she grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it with her arms, pressing her face into the soft downy comfort. She was awash with conflicting thoughts. She felt vulnerable and embarrassed, excited and thrilled–and couldn’t help wondering what the hell she was doing there, but soft footfalls broke her thoughts, and a shard of fear sliced through her being.

  Something soft was being wrapped around her ankles. She thought it could be the belt off a terry cloth robe. Whatever it was, he coiled it several times, tying her ankles together.

  “When was the last time you were spanked?” he asked.

  She was startled, both by the stern sound of his voice, and the question.

  “Um–three years ago,” she stammered.

  “By your boyfriend I assume?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Before then?”

  “Never, Sir. Not really.”

  His hand touched her upturned bottom, eliciting a quick, sharp gasp.

  “I can almost understand and forgive your mistakes, Ms. Somers. I’m sure my additional provision took you by surprise and muddied your mind, but it’s important you maintain your equilibrium in times of stress or confusion. It is at such times mistakes are made, mistakes that can have serious consequences. I’m afraid I must spank you quite hard. First–so you will learn not to allow yourself to become distracted by the unexpected, and second–because you must know, without doubt, that I will mete out punishment as needed.” He paused, then added, “You have a choice. If you wish, I will untie your ankles and you will be free to leave, or I can deliver the punishment you have earned. Do you stil
l wish me to spank you? Yes or no?”

  Belle took a long, deep breath. His voice had washed over her like a long hot shower, heating her body and sending a rush of wetness between her legs. He was a strict disciplinarian, there was nothing romantic or sexy about his reprimand, but still it had caused her body to respond with a deep, carnal longing.

  “Yes, Sir,” she managed, lifting her head from the pillow.

  “Very well. Your skirt is quite thin so I will allow it to remain in place, but there will come a time when I will bare your bottom for punishment.”

  Belle shivered at the thought, then sighed with relief. Had he lifted her skirt and pulled down her panties, he would have seen the glistening moistness between her lips peeping through the backs of her thighs. But her relief lasted only a moment. Something was moving across her bottom and it wasn’t his hand. A stinging smack made her throw back her head with a shrill squeal.

  “Head in the pillow,” he barked.

  “Oh, Sir,” she cried, “sorry, Sir.”

  Burying her head she readied herself for the next blow. She had no idea what implement he was using, but it hurt like hell.

  The next whack landed on the opposite cheek, just as hard, and she howled into the soft cushion. He continued to spank her, applying his swats with a slow rhythm across the entire width and breadth of her backside, pausing after each swat before traveling his punishment to a different area. By the time he had completed his task, no part of her bottom had escaped punishment, and Belle was panting and gasping, her skin as scorched as a dying ember in a fireplace.

  “I believe that will be sufficient,” he stated briskly. “After I have untied your ankles you will stay in place and count to sixty before standing up. The bathroom is through the door by the desk. When you have straightened yourself up, I will escort you back to the car. Do you understand what I just instructed you to do?”