Billionaire Romance: Club Billionaire (The Complete Series)

by Duval, Lexi

  “He forced himself on you, didn't he.”

  He pulls away, inspects my reaction. My expression grows in horror and shame, my head dipping in the lightest nod.

  I look down, as a silence dawns, the room suddenly heavy and weighed down by some invisible force. When I raise my eyes, I see Kyle's face on fire. His dark eyes burn with the blazes of hell, his jaw as stoney and hard as I've ever seen it.

  I put my hand to his cheek, my touch soothing him a little.

  “Promise me you won't say anything,” I say.

  He looks at me as if I'm mad, almost angry that I never reported it. “I can't. Belle, the man raped you...”

  “Please!” I say. “I don't want anyone to know...not the police, not Alice, not anyone. Promise me Kyle.”

  He takes a moment, staring at me in slight disbelief. I see the cogs turning in his mind, battling for an answer, for a way out of this. But I know there isn't one. The only thing to do is to put it to the back of my mind, and for him to do the same. To lock it away and move on.

  There is no other path.

  Eventually, Kyle nods, and hugs me again. “Don't worry, Belle. I won't mention this to anyone.”

  The iciness of his voice chills me. And I know that this isn't over.

  Chapter Five

  It's two weeks since the masquerade ball that I finally return to Club Billionaire. I realized soon after talking to Kyle that to move on I'd have to face my demons. To stand up and be defiant. If I didn't, I'd end up a recluse, hiding away in my bedroom, too scared to come out and live my life.

  That isn't the girl I am.

  That isn't the girl I want to be.

  And I've been through enough shit in my life to know how to move on when the going gets tough. To stick it out and battle back. I refuse to let a fucking brat like Brad ruin the good thing I had going on at the club. So I decide to face him, put on my own mask and show him that he means less than nothing to me. That for all his apparent wealth and power, he's just a scared little boy dying for attention.

  When I arrive at the club, I take a deep breath, step into the elevator, and get myself mentally prepared. I have no idea if Brad will be there or not, and I still don't know whether I want him to be.

  Is it better to face him now, get it out of the way? Or perhaps ease myself back in without him being around? Either way, I have no control over it, so prepare for both. When the elevator door pings open, and I arrive at the gallery, I see that Brad is nowhere to be found.

  Alice, however, is waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me with a wide smile on her face. I had, of course, told her I was feeling better and that I'd be back working that evening. To her credit, she doesn't probe any further about what was really wrong, and seems genuinely pleased to have me back. A quick hug in the bar room, away from the billionaires, convinces me of that.

  Some of the other clients also appear to have noticed my absence. I get some heartening well-wishes from them as they tell me they're happy to have me back, and that they're glad I'm feeling better.

  Getting such kind words from these men has more of an effect on me than I'd expect. So much so that I find myself crying in the bar room on more than one occasion in the first hour. These tears, however, are more of happiness than sadness, joy that I've had an impact, however small, on these rich and powerful men's lives. In a profession as unrewarding as waitressing, it's nice to know I've been missed and my life does have some meaning.

  It's Kyle, however, who I want to miss me the most. His visit to my apartment a few days before proved to me that he cares about me, at least to some level, and sees me as more than just a plaything to satisfy his sexual desires.

  Yet tonight, I don't see him, his sleek suit absent, his deep voice unheard among the light din.

  What does become clear to me, however, is that the mood in the club seems sombre. There's a heaviness hanging in the air, a thick atmosphere that tells me something's wrong. Conversations seem muted, the energy mournful. And only when I get a chance to talk with Alice properly do I understand why.

  “Oh, didn't you hear?” she asks.

  I shake my head, a feeling of dread settling inside me.

  “It's Brad...”

  My chest tightens like a taught rope. Oh shit...

  “He's in hospital, half dead apparently...”

  “When? What happened?” I ask, breathlessly.

  “No one knows. He was found around a street corner. Hit and run possibly. The police are looking into it.”

  “Right...”

  “I'm not one to wish something like that on anyone, but if someone was going to get it, it was him. You know as much as anyone, Belle. He was a nasty piece of work...”

  “Was? You're talking like he's dead already!”

  “Well, you never know if he'll make it or not.”

  “He might die?!”

  Alice shrugs. “I don't know, Belle. But yeah, that's why it's a bit mellow here tonight. No one wants to see something like that happen to another member.”

  Yeah, I can think of one member who might...

  As Alice returns to work, I can only imagine that this is too much of a coincidence. That only a couple of days after Kyle finds out about what Brad did to me, he's in hospital fighting for his life.

  Did Kyle really do this? Did he almost kill the man because of what he did?

  The thought infests my mind for the next hour, my emotions tugged this way and that. I find it hard to know how to feel. My initial reaction at discovering Brad's plight was mixed. Not how I'd expect. Half happiness that he'd got what he deserved, half concern that it might be related to me, to Kyle, and that somehow everything is going to come to light now.

  Then he arrives.

  I watch him as he walks down the steps, moving so languidly, as he's prone to do. There seems to be no change in his demeanor, nothing to suspect that today is anything more than a regular day for him. He smiles, greets the various members of the club who are present, and continues like nothing's happened.

  Maybe he isn't involved, I think to myself. Maybe he doesn't even know...

  Then he comes to me, jaw tight, eyes slightly more intense than usual. Up close, I do see a change.

  “Belle, you're back,” he says.

  “As you suggested,” I return.

  “It's good to see you.” His hand stretches the short gap between us and lightly brushes against mine. It's subtle enough for no one to see.

  I feel the usual electricity, although it's somehow dulled this time. There's too much weighing on my mind for any true sparks to fly.

  “Can we talk?” I ask. “In private?”

  His eyes don't change. “Of course. Stock room, five minutes.”

  He turns and leaves me, never one to be seen spending too much time alone with me down here. If nothing else, that always serves to remind me of my place.

  Five minutes later, and I'm in the stock room, awaiting his arrival. As expected, he arrives almost to the designated second, sliding through the door and shutting it carefully behind him.

  He moves forward, his billionaire cloak falling off him. His mask sliding, showing him only as a man. He smiles lightly, and hugs me tight but tenderly. I grip back, feel his strong body beneath this shirt, his pounding heart behind his chest.

  When he releases me, I almost consider not asking him, scared of what I'll hear. But my curiosity needs to be satisfied, and the question, difficult as it might be, needs to be asked.

  “Did you do it?” It's all I say, without elaborating on what.

  Kyle's face hardens, that fire behind his eyes beginning to flicker once more.

  “Yes,” he says. He doesn't need to ask me what. We both know what we're talking about here.

  “But why Kyle! I told you I just wanted to move on.”

  “And now you can, without him here. Brad got what he deserved, Belle. I wasn't going to let him get away with it.”

  His fists clench, his knuckles turning white. “I'd do it all over
again, and again...” His voice turns dark, his mind clouded by anger and hate. “If it means keeping you safe, Belle. I'd have killed him for what he did to you.”

  I'm dumbstruck, not knowing what to think, what to say. I don't condone violence, not for the sake of it. But this is different. Kyle did it all to protect me...because he cares about me. His words are those of a devoted man, putting everything on the line for the woman he loves.

  But not me...he can't love me...

  He moves in, takes my hands in his. They're warm, and I notice small cuts around his knuckles and fingers. The sight makes me want to pull my hands away, but I don't. I can't. Not from him...never from him.

  “I'd do anything to protect you, Belle. Brad will survive. I never intended to kill him. I just wanted him to suffer as you had. You won't ever have to see him again.”

  He kisses me on the forehead, his lips soft and warm. But no more. He doesn't drop his lips to mine, doesn't run his hands over my body as he usually would. He knows, right now, sex is the last thing on my mind.

  But he's wrong.

  Chapter Six

  Sometimes it's good to replace bad memories with good ones. To lose yourself to what you loved before in the hope that it will help numb the torture in your mind.

  As with everything in my life, I refuse to let Brad take away my lust for Kyle too. Now, that lust has been well and truly joined by something more. Something deeper, more meaningful.

  He's told me how he'd do anything to protect me, and that alone has sent my heart soaring. My desire for him, far from being diminished, has increased. My need to keep him close, my protector, my savior, my lover...

  So when he tenderly kisses my forehead, I make sure I drag his face down so that his lips roll over mine. I make sure that his hands busily explore me as they have so many times now. I do it to test myself, to find out the true extent of Brad's crimes. To discover whether he's robbed me of my sexual desire, my need to feel Kyle inside me.

  “Are you sure you want to...” Kyle asks, the gentleman inside him understanding how I must be feeling.

  I don't answer with words, but actions. With my guidance, I slide his fingers beneath my skirt, coax him into it as he massages my clit and slips his fingers inside me. It's a test, and I'm passing it, my pussy growing moist, my body beginning to tremble. Not from fear, or from lingering memories of Brad's attack, but from unadulterated longing, an appetite for Kyle that nothing can quench.

  Kyle is gentle, more so than usual. He takes it slow, undressing me, making love to me like it's my first time. In some ways it is. My first time since the attack, my body primed to reject such advances, to close down and grow fearful at the touch of a man.

  But it doesn't. I open up to him more than ever. I enjoy his flesh as he does mine, feeling comforted when he penetrates me. Feeling altogether happy, delirious even, that I'm able to find joy in this. Knowing that Kyle, and only Kyle, knows how to push my buttons just right. That he's sensitive enough himself to understand the thoughts that must be running through my head. To lead me through it all and return me to my original state.

  When we finish, I feel as if a reset button has been clicked in my mind. I feel as though being with Kyle, like this, has helped me put everything behind me. And now, more than ever, I want to tell him how I truly feel. For everything he's done for me, for everything he keeps doing. I want to tell him I love him.

  But I don't. I'm scared it will turn him away. I know, even if he reciprocates it, that he'll never act on it. That I'll never be anything more than a secret to him, something set aside from his life of wealth and power and influence. A man like him will marry an appropriate woman, not a waitress and former stripper with no education. I know, deep down, that I'm damaged goods.

  And so does he.

  Before Kyle leaves, he tells me to say nothing of the attack on Brad. That the cops might come to investigate, asking questions of the members and staff. I need to keep my mouth shut, for my sake and his, and just keep going as if nothing has happened.

  “You won't see me here for a while,” he tells me. “I'm going away on some serious business, which may last a few weeks. I'll be in contact when I return.”

  With that he kisses me, on the forehead once more, and vanishes from my sight.

  Over the next week, Kyle's predictions come true. Despite the secret nature of the club and the power of its members, no one gets in the way when the police come asking questions. Each member, it seems, is keen to find out exactly what happened to Brad Turner. To show solidarity in the face of this 'brutal attack', as the press have started to call it, even though some of them, I'd suspect, like the boy little more than I do.

  It's about a week after the attack that I'm questioned myself. A kindly looking officer asks me a few simple questions, but nothing more. Frankly, they don't tend to spend too much time on the waitresses, and seem to be clutching at straws. By the looks of things, they have no real leads and no real suspects. Kyle, as with everything in his life, has covered his tracks far too well.

  Only when Brad is sufficiently recovered to speak to the police do we all find out what happened. Kyle was smart enough to give me no details, which I'm glad he spared me. But still, with the entire investigation all over the TV and papers, and a hot topic of conversation in the club, it's all hard to avoid.

  When I first hear the story, my heart seizes with a fear that Brad might somehow name drop Kyle. His absence, being away on business, also looks fairly suspicious.

  Those worries, however, are quickly put to rest.

  It was a gang beating, by all accounts. Nothing but a mugging that seemed to get out of hand. There were four of them, all wearing balaclavas, all dressed in nondescript dark clothing. They robbed him and beat him to within an inch of his life. That's all Brad would offer the police, aside from a few sparse details on the height and shape of the men.

  One, it seems, was about 6'2'' and looked 'in good shape'. In most cases that would be an extremely vague profile, but as soon as I read it I knew it was Kyle.

  The gang mugging was nothing more than a ruse. He'd hired three men through a series of underworld connections who would be well compensated for their efforts. He joined the gang as the fourth, clearly not willing to miss out on the action. The minor cuts on his hands spoke of the blows he inflicted himself. By the time he returns from his 'business trip', I'm sure those cuts will have healed.

  Brad could offer nothing more, and while it's possible he might suspect Kyle, there was not nearly enough bad blood between them for him to single him out as a possible suspect to investigate. Without any solid proof, such an accusation against another billionaire would be too risky, too much negative press for men of such power and influence to have to deal with.

  Inside, however, I'm sure he knows Kyle had something to do with it. At least, that's what I hope. That he knows it was a warning to not mess with someone like Kyle Lawson. That while Brad's daddy might be more wealthy, Brad himself is nothing but a spec of dust to him. A irritating insect who can, if he wishes, be swatted aside and left for dead, just as he was.

  Perhaps now, Bradley Turner will have learned a valuable lesson: that he isn't infallible, and there are serious consequences to his actions.

  Over the next two weeks, with the investigation still ongoing, Club Billionaire begins to quieten down.

  “It will pick up again,” Alice tells me, although there's a lack of confidence in her voice. “As soon as everything settles, we'll be back in business. All this has just been a shock to these men, and they're paying their respects in their own ways. Believe me, things will pick up, I'm sure of it.”

  I wonder if her words convince her, because they don't convince me. With the police probing, and with certain seedy elements of the club at risk of being exposed, the members are sensibly keeping a wide berth. Who knows how long that will last...

  The result, however, leaves me back at square one. As a newer member of staff, I'm lower down the pecking order, and theref
ore aren't required to work. Alice, of course, could pull some strings to get me a shift or two but, with so little work available, my moral compass suggests that other girls deserve it more.

  So, back to having no job and, worse, no Kyle. Our meets have been strictly limited to the club, so without that middle ground, where does that leave us?

  For days I do little but sit and stare at the wall, trying to make sense of everything, trying to work out where my life will take me next. But amid all of it, I can't shift this horrible, dull feeling in my stomach. This feeling that tells me that my time at Club Billionaire is over.

  And that my joyful experience with Kyle Lawson might just begin to fizzle and die.

  Chapter Seven

  “The entire club's under investigation.”

  Alice's words send the pit of my stomach dropping another few inches.

  “What...why?”

  “The place was never really official. It doesn't have permits or anything like that. Some politician trying to make a name for himself must have got wind of it with all that's been going on. Now the press are onto it as well. You know the sort of stuff they'll come up with – underground club for billionaires where the fate of the world is decided by men sipping brandy and smoking cigars.”

  “I'll bet conspiracy theorists will be loving it.”

  “Sure will, and the rest. Long story short though, Belle, it's over, for now anyway. These guys aren't the sort to take this lying down. I've already been told by some how much they love it. I'm sure they'll work something out.”

  There's a short delay on the line before she speaks again.

  “In the meantime, though, I suggest you start looking for another job, painful as that sounds. I've said the same to all the girls. Sorry, Belle.”

  I tell her it's OK and that good things are never meant to last, but my mind is primarily taken by Kyle when I do. I still haven't heard from him for weeks and have no idea where he is or what he's doing. I don't even know if I'll ever see him again and, with everything going on at the club, that fear is more real now than ever.