Nobody's Girl: A Billionaire Romance Novel

by Michelle Love

  “It’s…. I’m honored, my darling, truly.” He looked through the rest of the book, taking his time over each of them. Sofia watched him, occasionally giving him some background. “You realize that you are exactly what Desi and I have been looking for? A raw, real, passionate talent. You’ve been painting white walls when we should have had you in the studio, working up these sketches onto canvas. What mediums do you work in?”

  Sofia smiled shyly. “Watercolor, pencil, sometimes mixed media. I’ve done a few things with pen and ink. Pastels I love when I’m doing abstracts, thick chunky bands of bright colors.”

  Ivo nodded. “And your influences?”

  “I love Rothko, Kahlo, O’ Keefe. Hopper is a god of mine. I love his solitude. There are few contemporary artists too – a lot of them I’ve come across by accident – Kate Leplage, Simeon Verdeux, Patricia Seavers? Heard of any of them?”

  “All of them, it’s my job,” he laughed and she flushed, grinning.

  “Sorry, of course.”

  Ivo turned a page and stopped. “Wow.” It was a pencil and watercolor she had done of the front of Desiree’s gallery – the building’s frontage still half finished, with scaffolding but Sofia had managed to infuse the artwork with all the bustle and vibrancy of its owner, and the promise of what it could be when it opened. Ivo knew immediately what he had to do.

  He kissed Sofia and then rolled off the bed. “Beautiful, get dressed. We have to see someone.”

  Sofia blinked, but nodded, scooching to the side of the bed and retrieving her clothes. “Okay. Where are we going?”

  Ivo tapped his nose, grinning. “You’ll see, but go with it and I’ll buy you a vat of fries afterward.”

  “And a vat of condoms.”

  He laughed. “That would be a hell yes.”

  Desiree’s eyebrows shot up when she saw them come into the gallery, hand-in-hand and giggling. “What are you two up to? Mischief, I can tell.”

  Sofia slushed scarlet, and Ivo looked guilty. “Nothing. Hey, Desiree, remember we were talking about the invites to the opening?” He handed her Sofia’s sketchbook, opened at the painting of the gallery.

  Desiree took it from him. “Ivo,” she said, finally, “Where on Earth did you fi…”

  She looked up and glared at Sofia. “Is this you? You’ve been hiding this all along? You little minx, I could kill you.”

  Ivo fell about laughing as Sofia rushed to explain herself, while Desiree glowered at them both. When she’d calmed down, she bore them both off to a wine bar down the block and ordered champagne.

  “I agree, this image needs to be on the invite. You,” she pointed at Sofia, who looked a little stunned, “You have a month. I want three canvases. The alcove space? It’s yours.”

  Sofia looked panicked. “Wait…no, no, come on, I’m nowhere near good enough. You’re exhibiting actual Masters for crissakes.”

  Desiree looked at Ivo. “Is she finished?” She asked dryly and Ivo grinned and leaning over, kissed Sofia full on the mouth.

  “Baby, I believe in you. Desi believes in you. Looks like you got your first commission.”

  Sofia gaped at them as her lover and her boss toasted her with the champagne. “I think I feel sick.”

  Neither of them let her off the hook.

  Sofia felt stars explode in her vision, the sensation of Ivo’s cock reaming her into submission as he thrust deep inside her. “God, yes, yes, Ivo…” Her thighs were tight around his waist, her hands pinned above her head by his. Ivo’s lips were rough on hers, kissing her fiercely….and then he stopped.

  “What is it, my love?” She suddenly felt scared as she saw his eyes. Not their usual green but black as night. Cold.

  Ivo said nothing but slid off of her and moved to the door. He opened it and Sofia saw her step-father into the room, followed by Tamara. Ivo smiled at them. “Told you I could fuck her.”

  He looked back at Sofia who rose from the bed, begging him not to leave her with them, but he walked out anyway as Tamara raised the gun and shot her in the heart at point blank range.

  “Fuck!” Sofia shot up out of bed and started to shiver. Jesus, what a fucking nightmare to have now, tonight of all nights. She felt Ivo’s hand on her back.

  “Are you okay, Bella?”

  She nodded, giving him a rueful smile. “Sorry, bad dream.” She lay back down and he pulled her close.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Definitely not.” She pressed her lips to his. “Go back to sleep.” They were in Sofia’s bedroom at Desiree’s house. Now that she knew about the two of them, she had assumed Ivo would be there most nights and they repaid her generosity by making love quietly.

  “I’ll sleep after I’ve done this,” he said, hitching her leg around his hips, sliding into her. Sofia sighed happily. For someone who had only started doing this a few days ago, she was already learning new things but the quiet moments like this, were almost her favorite times with him. So intimate, so loving.

  Afterward, Ivo fell back to sleep but Sofia found herself returning to the dream. She didn’t have to be psychic to figure out what it meant. She was finally happy, deliriously happy, that she couldn’t believe they wouldn’t try to ruin it.

  And as her dream told her, it wasn’t even her ex-step-father who worried her. It was Tamara. If Tamara knew Sofia was happy, she would move heaven and earth to destroy her and all because Sofia was the one person who knew Tamara’s darkest secret.

  Tamara Rutland was a murderer.

  Chapter Six

  Tamara straddled Grant and lowered herself onto his cock. He grinned up at her as they fucked but she didn’t smile back. She was tired today, and their lovemaking had seemed like too much bother. After a few minutes, Grant’s smile faded and he lifted her off of him.

  “You know what, Taryn, don’t do me any favors. I paid you for sex and some punishment, but you looking bored when my cock is inside you? Not so much.”

  “My name is Tamara,” she said suddenly. Yes, she was tired. Tired of the subterfuge with her name. This, this woman who fucked for money, who beat men – and women – for money, this was who she was.

  Grant shrugged. “Should I care?”

  This was why she liked him. He was as much a sociopath as she was. There would be no declarations of love between them but they both knew they had a connection. A complete disregard for the feeling of other people. Grant was submissive in this room, yes, but outside of it…Tamara shivered. She could tell her was ruthless, cold, only interested in the kill. He had alluded to such before. They had a grudging respect, each seeing the psychopath inside the other.

  “No reason, at all,” she said now, smirking and seeing her smile, he bent to kiss her. It was a tender kiss, more one of ownership. Tamara didn’t mind – she was paid to give the impression she was his to command, even though she was paid to torture and fuck him. She wondered if she crossed him, whether he would kill her, and curious, she asked him now. Grant’s eyes became dark and lethal.

  “Without hesitation.”

  It turned her on so much, she told him to get undressed again and this time, she fucked him good. “Have you ever killed a woman before?”

  Grant smiled icily, his cock hard and huge inside her, his fingers gripping her hips hard. “No, just men. I want my first female kill to be something…intimate. Slow. Merciless.”

  Tamara felt herself get more excited as he talked. “But you have killed before.”

  “Of course.”

  Damn. She came quickly, and again as he reached his peak. They had stopped using condoms a while back, Tamara having had herself sterilized a few years ago. Why the fuck would she want a screaming brat? She felt his cum pumping deep into her belly and grinned.

  “That’s more like it,” Grant said, sitting up as she slid off him. Tamara felt his cum dribbling down her leg but didn’t make any move to clean it off. “Who knew murder was the key to getting you hot?”

  Tamara smiled silkily at him. “So, say I wa
nted to hire you to torment, stalk and kill someone? Another woman?”

  “What woman?”

  She shrugged, not ready to give away everything right now. The plan was only starting to form in her mind. “Just a woman. Young. Beautiful. How much?”

  “It depends. You want her scared shitless before I off her? That’ll cost more. A quick bullet to the head? Twenty-five thousand dollars. A drawn-out campaign, and a painful, intimate stabbing? One hundred-thousand…and I get to screw her before I kill her. Maybe while I kill her.”

  Tamara laughed. “You’re a twisted fuck, and that’s why I like you.”

  He pulled her to him, kissing her, his hand between her legs. He slid three fingers inside her. His other hand bunch her blonde hair and he pulled her head back roughly before grinding his mouth down on hers. “You wouldn’t want to know how sick I can be, little girl.” He kissed her throat, then flicked his tongue across it in a slashing motion. “One day…I might come for you. Watch you bleed like the bitch you are.”

  Tamara’s pulse quickened but she wasn’t scared. “Tell me that often, Grant, and I’ll make you come harder than you ever have before.”

  He pinched her clit hard between his thumb and forefinger, making her squeak and come again, and Grant smiled triumphantly. “Same time, next week?”

  “Of course.” She kissed him lightly. “Bring your weapons with you, we’ll have some fun.”

  Grant smirked. “They checked them at the door.”

  “I’ll get you in.”

  “Sure.”

  After Grant had left, Tamara still felt wildly horny. She clipped two nipple clamps to her breasts, enjoying the pain of them, and walked out into the bar, otherwise still completely naked and still with Grant’s cum on her thighs. She felt no embarrassment about her body – she knew it was spectacular, if a little on the thin side. She went to the bar and ordered a drink, and had downed it in one gulp when she saw him watching her. The first lover she’d found here. The dark man. Her heart began to pound as he stood. He too was completely naked, his cock erect, a chunky heavy silver ring around the base of it. She noticed the thick tattoos up and down his thickly muscled arms. He easily shook off his female hangers-on, who all glared at Tamara, who couldn’t have cared less. He strode up to her and shoved his hand between her legs.

  “Go get in the shower,” he said, withdrawing his hand. “I don’t fuck while another man is still inside. Clean yourself up and meet me in Room Four.”

  He grabbed the refilled shot glass and downed it. “Give me the bottle.”

  “Yes, Mr. Black.” The bartender handed over a bottle of scotch and Black nodded. He glanced at Tamara a last time before stalking off. She watched his retreating figure. His shoulders were broad, his back muscles stood out – here was a man who worked out – hard. His ass was solid and shapely, his legs strong. Yeah, he would fuck her good.

  Tamara did what she was told, standing under one of the hot showers that were laid out against the far wall. As she washed herself, she looked around at all the other couple fucking each other, or sucking each other, and smiled. If she could only live here…an idea began to form in her head…. but for now, all she wanted to concentrate on was the man waiting for her.

  He grabbed her as soon as she came into the room and thrust her against the wall. Tamara’s breath quickened as he put his forearm across her throat, and pushed her legs apart. “Good.” His hand checked she was clean, then his cock, huge and pulsating thrust into her.

  As he fucked her, he said not a word, but instead kept his gaze locked on her. Tamara felt herself drawn to those dark eyes, losing herself in him. She came quickly, and he ordered her onto the bed, taking her in the ass from behind, making her crouch on her hands and knees. He treated her like a mere hole, in the same way she treated Grant as just a cock to ride…and Tamara loved every second. As he fucked her long into the night, not letting her make any of the decisions, punishing her with the paddles and whips in the room if she dared to argue with him, she knew she was lost.

  This was a man of power. This was a man who could break her. Grant – he would prove useful, and her father…he could go back to ignoring her. This man…

  She would make him hers…

  Chapter Seven

  Sofia stood back from her work and eyed it critically. The usual self-doubt was virulent today and she almost splashed black paint across the whole thing and told Desiree she quit. But she couldn’t do it. She had decided on translating the small invite sketch into a huge canvas of the completed gallery to and in the middle of her space, flanked by portraits of both Desiree and Ivo.

  It was Ivo’s painting she was completing now, and the one she had worked longest on. It had to be perfect or it wouldn’t be worthy of him. Ivo. Her lover. When she thought of him, wrapped around her at night, either making love or just talking, it made her whole body warm. She looked up at the outline she had done. His eyes were the most important for her, the expression of tenderness in them, and yet she also wanted to bring out that side of him she had yet to see. The dangerous side of him. She had seen flashes of it when they were making love, the intensity of his feelings for her…there was something deep inside Ivo Zacca that he would not let out and Sofia was obsessed with finding out what it was. When he thought she was asleep, he would slip from the bed and stare out of the window for hours, then watch her, stroking her skin tenderly before wrapping his arms around her. What was it? It was as if he was so scared to lose her that it kept him awake.

  She asked Desiree about it. Desiree had sighed. “Honey, if I knew, I would tell you. He’s always been, not insecure as such, but…” She struggled to find the right word. “He has the biggest heart in the world, and is intensely loyal and sometimes that loyalty had caused him tremendous heartbreak. That’s all I can say without breaking a confidence. Just know – he adores you.”

  “And I’m crazy about him, Desi. I’ll never give Ivo a reason to doubt it.”

  Now, as she concentrated on painting his beautiful eyes, she wondered if she would be able to keep that promise when she didn’t know his limits, or what it took to make him hurt. She knew she would never deliberately hurt him – why would she? She knew she loved him with all her heart – not that either of them had said the words yet and she was glad about it. It was too soon. When she said it, and when she heard it from him, she wanted, needed it to be true. Moreover, she trusted him never to abandon her, and she questioned why she was so sure, given her past. For now, they both appeared to be on the tightrope – and balancing.

  She was so lost in thought that she didn’t hear the woman enter the gallery and ask for her. Sofia started slightly when she heard the woman speak.

  “That’s remarkable. Truly remarkable.”

  Sofia turned to see Clemence Brochu smiling at her. The other woman, her blonde hair caught up in an elegant chignon, was wearing a gorgeous pink and lilac floral dress which skimmed her bump and fell to her mid-calf. She wore a small, exquisite lace wrap around her shoulders. Clemence stepped closer to inspect the painting. Sofia, covered in pencil dust and paint, her black hair shoved haphazardly into a bun, felt like a street urchin next to her. She felt vaguely exposed by Clemence seeing the portrait – both of them had loved Ivo.

  Clemence nodded at the portrait. “You’ve captured Ivo perfectly.”

  Sofia flushed a little. “Well, um…”

  “It’s okay, dear, I know about the two of you.”

  Sofia didn’t know what to say. Also, she found it strange Clemence would called her ‘dear’ – she couldn’t be more than a few years older than her. “How are you? How’s the baby? Ivo said it’s a girl?”

  Clemence nodded, stroking the bump. It looked smaller today than when she had first seen it. “She’s good. Not long to go now.”

  Sofia put her paintbrush down. “Look, Ms. Brochu, I don’t want to be awkward, but I wanted to say…if Ivo had wanted to come back to you, I would not have stood in his way. He and I…we did not start seein
g each other – so to speak – until after he knew about the baby.”

  Clemence chuckled. “I know that, Sofia. And please call me Clemence. I thought I’d better come introduce myself before the baby is born, so there aren’t any bad feelings. I know Ivo wants to be involved with the child and I don’t want it to affect our relationship.”

  Sofia half-smiled. “It won’t. I’m excited for him.”

  Clemence put a hand on her arm. “You’re sweet. Look, I’d like to be friends. Is that something you’d consider? At least try and get to know each other. I have a feeling you’ll be in Ivo’s life for a while yet.”

  Sofia didn’t know how to take that, but decided to give the other woman the benefit of the doubt. “I’d like that.”

  Clemence nodded. “Maybe we should keep it between us two for now, so Ivo doesn’t feel railroaded.”

  Sofia hesitated but then shrugged. What could it hurt? She’d tell Ivo if she and Clemence became friends but if they found no common ground, it would probably be best if they kept their distance. “Sure. Look, I hate to cut and run but I have a deadline with this…”

  “Sure, I just came to say hello. Maybe coffee later in the week?” She handed Sofia a card with her cell phone number and Sofia nodded.

  “Sure, if I get done here.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  Sofia watched Clemence walk out of the gallery with mixed feelings. She hated to keep anything from Ivo, but she could see Clemence’s point about being friends. They would be in each other’s lives and Sofia had had enough of bad relations between people for a lifetime.

  She turned back to her work, and conjuring Ivo’s face, she worked on the expression in his eyes, stroking her paint gently onto the canvas. She would honor the love he had inside of him for everyone he knew, truly he was the best man she had ever met.