Dance for the Billionaire

by Moore, Jewel

  “Yes,” she responded, quickly opening the door and getting into the driver’s seat. “It may not look like much, but it’s very reliable.”

  “I hope so!” Dominic opened the front door on the passenger side and slid onto the seat, grateful to see at a quick glance that the car was at least spotless inside. “I should really call my driver. I don’t think this will get us to Knightsbridge.”

  “Trust me, this little baby would get us safely to Land’s End and back.” Chantelle patted the steering wheel affectionately before she started the engine and pulled off smoothly.

  The car’s engine sounded good, Dominic acknowledged, but there was no way he was going to let her keep driving around in the rust bucket.

  “I’m sorry…about my mum.” Chantelle’s voice was husky as she continued, “She used to be a beautiful, vibrant woman—Charmine looks like her—but she’s been this way since my father left her for the son of a family friend ten years ago.”

  “Son?” Dominic stared at her in surprise. “I thought that I’d misunderstood what she was saying.”

  “My father’s gay.” Chantelle laughed at his stunned expression. “My mother’s friend Pauline said that everyone in the neighborhood where they grew up in Jamaica thought Dad was gay…except Mum, of course. She was a nurse and when she got the chance to come here due to a shortage of nursing staff, she asked Dad to marry her and brought him with her. Dad told me, when he finally called for the first time after leaving on my eighteenth birthday, that he couldn’t have turned down the chance to come to the UK, although he’d known then that he liked men.”

  “That was a seriously underhand move,” Dominic said politely. Privately he thought the man sounded a real bastard.

  “He said that he’d received several death threats from the men in the village after he’d gotten close to an older man whose wife lived in the States. He said he got a lucky escape when he came to London. I think he did try to make the marriage work. He was a great father.” Chantelle was surprised to find herself smiling fondly in remembrance—usually thoughts of her father triggered memories of the harrowing times they had endured after he’d left them abruptly to follow his heart’s desires. “He worked at the local barber shop and used to braid our hair. We had the best cornrow styles for miles. He was a good cook, too—much better than Mum—and each night he used to tell us funny stories about growing up in Jamaica.”

  Chantelle paused, looking pensive for several moment. Dominic didn’t attempt to break the silence.

  “I don’t blame him for marrying Mum. From what I’ve heard there was a lack of tolerance for homosexuals in Jamaica at the time…even now it’s not really accepted. He probably did have a lucky escape. But I can never forgive him for leaving without saying goodbye.”

  “He didn’t call for seven years?” Dominic confirmed.

  “No. He said he was too embarrassed at first and then it got harder and harder to pick up the phone.”

  “But did you know that he was alive?” That was the part that would have torn Dominic up—the not knowing if his father was dead or alive.

  “Oh, we knew he was alive.”

  Chantelle’s answer was laced with hurt and Dominic suddenly realized that the knowledge could probably be as bad as the not knowing. Her father had deliberately ignored her and her siblings and his responsibility to them.

  “When he first disappeared Mum was convinced that someone had murdered him. She was furious with the police for not taking the necessary action. But, apparently they had managed to contact my father as soon as she’d reported him missing. He had switched off his phone but not taken out the SIM card—the police can still contact you when you do that—they knew he was alive. They weren’t legally bound to let Mum know. It was only when Paul, my father’s young boyfriend, called his parents weeks later to tell them that he was in Leicester with Dad that Mum found out the truth. I think she’d begun to wonder if he was with another woman when his body wasn’t found, but she hadn’t been prepared for the news that he’d left her for a man…someone who had grown up close to our family. She had a nervous breakdown, I think. She started drinking heavily. The hospital fired her because she didn’t turn up for work or report sick. We ended up living on benefits.

  “It was fun for the first week or two. Mum didn’t cook and we had Chicken & Chips practically everyday. But one day a social worker visited and found the house in a mess. Dishes piled high in the sink, the bathroom filthy, our bed sheets hadn’t been changed in weeks and almost every piece of clothing we owned dirty. By then we had begun sniffing clothes to see which ones could be worn again. Mum had sent us to play in the back garden when the social worker had arrived, but I came back in to get us ice lollies and heard the woman say that she would have us put in foster care if she returned and found the house in the same condition the following week. Mum told her to ‘f-off’, that we were her children and no one could take us from her.

  “I felt proud of Mum for standing up for us, but when I realized she didn’t intend to tidy up or stop drinking, I started to clean up myself. I had no idea what to do at first—she and Dad had spoiled us. I’d never done any housework—but by the time the woman visited again I had the place in some sort of order.”

  “You said this has been going on for ten years?” Dominic asked her quietly. He couldn’t imagine a mother not looking after her children properly. His mother would still fuss over him if he gave her a chance.

  “Almost eleven now,” Chantelle confirmed. “At least she doesn’t go drinking at the local pub anymore. We used to get worried when she staggered home alone. Though that was better than when she staggered home with some strange man. She sobered up a bit when she got pregnant with Charmine, but went back to her ‘bottle of vodka a day’ before Charmine was one. If she knows who my sister’s father is, she’s not telling.”

  “Didn’t you have any relatives who could have helped you?” he asked, reaching across and gently pushing a few strands of her Sisterlocks behind her ear to get an unobstructed view of her profile. He couldn’t resist stroking the soft skin of her jaw line before pulling his hand back and allowing her to concentrate on her driving.

  “Everyone’s in Jamaica. My grandparents want Mum to go back home. She wants to go back too, but her brother renovated the house my grandparents lived in and added a couple of bedrooms upstairs. Now he acts like the house belongs to him. He said he’s a Christian and doesn’t want ‘a drunkard’ living under his roof. I sent more than half of that money…the money I got from you to my grandparents to buy a plot of land and build a house for them and Mum to live in, but the contractor doubled the original estimate once the work had started and I didn’t have any more to send to him. My grandfather believes that my uncle somehow got involved with the contractor and that the man and my uncle split the extra money he demanded.”

  “Your uncle sounds like a piece of work.”

  “He is,” Chantelle agreed. “I didn’t want him involved, but my grandparents are farmers. They are barely literate. He took over their land, saying that it was time they didn’t work as hard, but he now keeps the money when he sells the animals and the produce. They have very little money of their own.”

  “So what’s the state of play with the house right now.”

  “The roof is on, thank God, so the structure is not exposed to the elements, but there are no windows and the interior needs to be completed. I’m planning to go there myself at Christmas. I can’t afford it right now and I have to take Shawn and the girls, so I can’t go term time. Hopefully, I can get it all straightened out.”

  “No, no.” Chantelle looked at him sharply before quickly turning back to the road. “I have a friend who will take care of it for me. All I need is the name of the contractor and the location of the property.”

  “You know people in Jamaica?”

  “I have property there—five apartments blocks in Kingston which are currently all occupied. And work is almost complete on the two gated communi
ties I’m building in Montego Bay, but those won’t suit your mother and grandparents or I would move them until the house gets sorted out.”

  “Gated community?” Chantelle gasped. “My grandparents are very simple people. They don’t even like going to Kingston! I managed to get a nice piece of land in the countryside. It’s not too far from the beach and there is enough land at the back for my grandfather to start farming again on a smaller scale. He’s really excited about moving to it.” Chantelle sighed. “Mr. Patrick—that’s the name of the contractor—had given me a guarantee that another ten thousand pounds will complete everything.”

  “Until you send it to him and he decided that he needs another ten.” Dominic ran his right hand through his hair. “This man’s either incompetent or a con artist. Derek will pay him a visit and straighten the whole mess out.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t worry he won’t hurt him if it’s not necessary,” Dominic promised with an edge in his voice.

  “What?”

  The traffic lights ahead turned amber and then red. Chantelle slowed the car and stared across at Dominic as she automatically brought the clutch up to biting point in preparation for the change of signal.

  “You heard me.”

  “I don’t want anyone hurt!”

  “Sometimes it’s necessary to inflict pain so that a lesson can be learned.”

  “I’m not giving you his full name and address if you plan to get him beaten up!” Chantelle told him heatedly as she followed the car ahead as the lights changed. Had she somehow stepped into a parallel universe? “Especially since it’s probably my uncle’s fault!”

  “Your uncle needs a lesson in family loyalty, but I promise that nothing will happen to him.” Dominic took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “I hate injustice.”

  “And you think hurting a man because he might have conned me out of some money is justice?”

  “It’s a kind of justice. Heaven knows how many other people he has conned out of their hard-earned money.” They just missed the amber signal at the next set of lights. Chantelle turned to glare at him again and he reluctantly agreed, “Okay. I promise that Derek won’t touch either of them. He’ll find out if all the money you sent has been spent on the house and if so, how much more needs to be spent. If he finds out that the funds have been misappropriated, he will have the man refund the balance or find a way for him to work it off. Whichever way, work will recommence immediately. Your mother will be in Jamaica within a week or two.”

  “That’s not possible! I don’t have any more money at the moment and—”

  “I doubt that the contractor needs any more money and if he does, I will send it to Derek. If there’s not enough manpower to finish the job quickly, Derek will put some of his own men on it.”

  “I can’t let you pay for—” Chantelle began. It would be so wonderful if he could… but she just couldn’t let him. Surely, she couldn’t!

  “You can think of it as a salary advance, if that makes you feel better.” Dominic reached over and ran the back of his hand against the line of her jaw again softly. “Sweetheart, you’ve been doing this on your own for a long time. Let me help you now.”

  Chantelle felt tears prick her eyelids and hastily blinked them away. Dominic, specifically the money he had given her that night, had been the first ray of light in a life which had been a constant battle to survive. She wanted so much to lay her troubles on his broad shoulders, but she sensed his ruthless side and worried about getting on the wrong side of it. But, she was weary to being strong, of being in charge and making sacrifices. Her teenage years had flown by without her realizing, spent cooking and cleaning and making sure that her siblings were fine. She hadn’t partied, drank or smoked joints as most of her friends had been doing, knowing that she could neither afford to do so, nor risk becoming addicted.

  “Okay,” she agreed, “but you have to let me know and approve every step you plan to make.”

  “Agreed.”

  Chantelle had been following the street signs as they had conversed and soon Dominic instructed, “Turn left at the lights and then right at the end of the road.”

  “My God, are we still even in London?” she gasped as she took note of the large detached houses on either side of the road for the first time before she turned into his driveway.

  “Definitely still in London,” Dominic confirmed with a laugh. “Come up and let me show you around.”

  Chantelle hesitated. She sensed the flame that had been simmering between them since the night at the club would quickly flare into a raging inferno once they were alone together. Was she ready for that?

  “Chantelle, I give you my word that nothing will happen up there that you don’t want.”

  “Okay.” She noted that he didn’t promise that something won’t happen, only that whatever did would be with her consent.

  She could live with that promise.

  Chapter Six

  “Will that be all, sir.”

  “Thank you, Rogers.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Dominic’s butler bowed and left the room silently. If he wasn’t gay, the middle-aged man was certainly the most effeminate straight man Chantelle had ever met.

  “Yes, he is.” Dominic smiled as he interpreted the look on her face correctly. “And probably the best butler in the UK.”

  “I-I…” Embarrassed, she quickly took a sip of freshly-pressed watermelon juice.

  “It’s okay,” Dominic assured her. “Many of my friends laughed at me when I hired him. Now they know how good he is, most of them want to steal him away. A few have offered to triple or quadruple his salary, but he’s so far declined. I was the first person to take a chance on him and he’s said he won’t leave until either of us dies or I fire him.”

  “That’s amazing loyalty.” Most people would switch employers for a slight increase in salary. For the man to stay when he could be earning three or four times what Dominic paid him was crazy!

  “He says he has no real use for money. He lives, eats and sleeps here, so the money I pay him just sits in the bank.” Dominic’s light-hearted tone changed as he continued, “I trust him implicitly. He’s been with me since I bought this house and threw a house warming party four years ago. He was one of the waiters working for the company who handled the food and drink. He came back the next day and told me that I needed a butler and he would make a good one. I admired his balls.”

  “Ballsy, indeed.” Chantelle hastily took a sip of juice to hide the laughter bubbling on her lips.

  He had to be a very secure man indeed to admit to admiring a gay man’s balls.

  “You can laugh,” Dominic encouraged. “It was meant to be a double entendre.”

  Given permission to let her mirth burst forth, Chantelle placed her hand on her waist and laughed unreservedly. Not the polite chuckling she generally made in public, but the good belly laughter that she often shared with her siblings in the privacy of their home.

  “It’s good to hear you laugh,” Dominic said. She looked up and realized that he had deliberately attempted to tickle her funny bone.

  Her laughter caught in her throat and died at the intense look in his eyes.

  “This is gorgeous,” Chantelle took another sip of juice in an attempt to cool her body’s heated response to his appreciative gaze. The watermelon juice was so sweet she would have suspected it had been sweetened if she’d been served it elsewhere. She often bought the fruit since she’d read in the Metro that they were a super fruit. But she bought whole ones because they were cheaper and she never trusted that the knives the vendors used were slicing were scrupulously clean and still hadn’t yet perfected the art of recognizing the ripest ones by sight, touch and smell.

  “So are you,” Dominic said softly, cupping her jaw and running his thumb along the silky skin of her left cheek. She hadn’t planned to leave the house, so she wasn’t wearing any makeup. She cringed inwardly, hoping that she didn’t look a mess. “
You have such soft skin.”

  His eyes, darkening to almost as deep a brown of her own, held hers as he ran his thumb over the full curve of her bottom lip. The air between them crackled as if it were a live thing and Chantelle licked her suddenly dry lips nervously. As the tip of her tongue touched his finger, Dominic went still. His eyes glittered like polished onyx.

  “Tell me now if you don’t want this.” Dominic slipped his thumb between her lips and she instinctively sucked it in deeper. “Saying no won’t affect your job or my promise to sort out the house in Jamaica, but you have to say it now.”

  “I’m not saying no, but I can’t stay out for too much longer.”

  “This is not how I envisioned our first time together. I’d planned to explore every inch of your body and make you scream my name before I took you.” Dominic cradled the back of her head as he eased her down onto the soft, supple leather of the sprawling L-shaped settee. His weight pressed her further into the softness as he came down over her. “But once things are settled with your mother, I will leave your brother and sisters in the care of my parents and take you somewhere special.”

  Chantelle barely heard his last words as he covered her lips with his, slipped his hand under her jade T-shirt, unsnapped her bra and cupped her breast with a large, warm hand.

  “Won’t Rogers—?”she started to protest, mortified at the idea of the man coming back into the room and finding them in flagrante delicto.

  “No one will disturb us,” Dominic said confidently as he nibbled a path along her jaw line to the arch of her neck. He pushed her T-shirt upwards and gazed at the twin peaks of her breasts, the nipples standing firmly erect, the areolas goose-pimpled by the expert stroke of his fingers and thumbs. “Beautiful…just waiting for the touch of my lips.”

  With that he dipped his head and encircled her left nipple with his tongue.

  Chantelle bit her lip and moaned as a bolt of sensation went straight to the junction of her thighs.