Besotted (The Billionaire Banker Series)

by Le Carre, Georgia

  Besotted

  Georgia Le Carre

  Editor: http://www.loriheaford.com/

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  Besotted

  (Book 3 of The Billionaire Banker series)

  Published by Georgia Le Carre

  Copyright © 2014 by Georgia Le Carre

  The right of Georgia Le Carre to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the copyright, designs and patent act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious, any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-0-9928249-4-5

  You can discover more information about Georgia Le Carre and future releases here.

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  The way to make money is to buy when blood is running in the street.

  John D. Rockefeller

  Table of Contents

  Blake Law Barrington

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Bonus Material

  Blake Law Barrington

  April, 2014

  The knock on the Lanesborough Suite’s door is firm and unhesitant. I glance at my watch. Very punctual. I like that. I open the door and… My, my, she is a beauty: waist-length, straight blonde hair, gorgeous big eyes. And scarlet lips. Lana almost never colors her lips so red. A pity. She is wearing a long, white coat belted at the waist and really, really high heels. They remind me of the shoes Lana wore the first night I met her.

  She is chewing gum, though. I hate that. She must watch too many movies about big-hearted hookers. I put my hand out, palm outstretched. For a moment she looks at me, clueless. I raise my eyebrows and she hurriedly takes the gum out of her mouth and drops it into my hand. Then she raises her own eyebrows and cheekily stretches her hand out.

  ‘Don’t you want to come in first?’ I ask, amused but not showing it.

  ‘Of course,’ she says and walks past me. Her accent is odd. She must be making it up as she goes along.

  I close the door and watch her walk ahead of me. She has a good walk. I like a woman who can walk with grace. She stops in front of the low table where there is a platter of fresh fruit and a bottle of champagne cooling in an ice bucket, and turns around to face me. For a moment I am distracted by the picture she makes standing in the agreeably English decor of traditional prints and chintzes teamed with bold choices of acid greens and Schiaparelli pinks. I put the gum on the sideboard.

  ‘I’m sorry, what’s your name?’

  ‘Rumor.’

  I smile. The name suits her. She looks like a rumor. Couldn’t possibly be true.

  ‘Would you like a glass of champagne?’

  She lifts one foot and lets it swing back. It is impossibly erotic. ‘I’d like to be paid first.’

  I don’t react to the provocation. ‘The money is by the lamp.’

  She glances at the neat pile of money as she works the two buttons on her coat. The coat lands on the sofa behind her. She is wearing a very short white dress. Wordlessly, she turns away from me and bends from the waist, so her ass is pushed out and her skirt rides up to where her smooth thighs indent and I glimpse the other thing I had specified—a freshly waxed pussy. The lips are already swollen and reddened, and as I watch moisture starts to gather.

  Immediately I am hard as hell.

  Slowly, holding that position, she counts the money. The desire to ram her while she is counting her money is strong, but I resist. She puts the last note on top of the pile she has counted, and turns to face me.

  ‘All there?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she says slowly, her acquired accent undergoing another change. ‘All there.’

  I move towards her and put my hand between her legs. Obligingly, she parts them and my fingers start to play with the soaking flesh.

  ‘So Rumor, what shall we do with you?’

  ‘Mr. Barrington—’

  ‘Blake,’ I say persuasively, as I continue to explore the silky, wet folds.

  She takes a steadying breath. ‘Blake, we can do anything you want to do, so long as you remember anything kinky is extra.’

  ‘What kind of kinky things are on offer?’ I plunge my middle finger into her.

  She gasps and sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. I watch with amusement.

  ‘You’re the customer. Tell me what kinky things you want and I’ll do them.’

  ‘Have you been on many callouts?’

  ‘Not really. Just one other time.’

  ‘Tell me—what did he do to you?’

  ‘He fucked me really hard.’

  ‘How hard?’

  ‘So hard I was too sore to go to my next appointment.’

  ‘Have you got another appointment after this?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good.’

  She turns around, lifts the heavy curtain of golden hair and offers me her zip. I pull it down and she wriggles out of her dress. It falls on the pink carpet. I run my hand along the nude flesh. She shivers. I turn her around to face me. Her body is very beautiful and her pupils are so dilated that her irises are almost black. I lift her up—she is as light as a feather—and carry her into the lavish, blue bedroom. I lay her down gently on the king-sized, four-poster bed. I look down on her pale body. I have bought her. For the next hour she is mine to do anything I please with. The thought electrifies me.

  ‘Open your legs,’ I command.

  Immediately she lifts her knees and lets them fall open so her swollen reddened sex is exposed to me. I have one hour to fuck, and that is exactly what I do. I fuck her until she is panting, her slim young body slipping against mine. Until she screams. She lies on her back, her eyes closed.

  I cup her breast in the palm of my hand. It fits perfectly. ‘That was great. Thanks.’

  She sits up. I watch the curve her waist and hips make and I feel like pulling her down and having her all over again, but I have an appointment in less than thirty minutes. She goes into the bathroom.

  ‘Don’t wash,’ I tell her.

  She says nothing. Just nods.

  I hear water running. By the time she comes out I am already fully dressed.

  ‘I’ll book you again next week,’ I tell her.

  ‘Sure. Arrange it with the agency.’ She seems oddly shy.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘I need to use the toilet.’

  By the time I come out she is fully dressed and waiting in the sitting room.

  ‘Do you need a ride back? The hotel offers a complimentary chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce.’

  She shakes her head.

  A thought. She is wearing nothing under the dress. ‘Lift your dress.’

  She doesn’t appear surprised, just quietly parts her coat and lifts her dress, and exposes her sex to me. My seed is still leaking out of her. I walk up to her, gent
ly cup her buttocks and drop to my knees. I look up at her. She is watching me curiously. Bending my head I lick her slit, puffy with engorged, glistening flesh. She moans. I could have her again if I wanted to. I pull her dress back down and walk her to the door.

  ‘See you then,’ she calls.

  I close the door and go to stand at the triple-glazed, floor to ceiling window. It has a marvelous view of Wellington Arch. I look at my watch and I catch sight of the pile of money sitting on the low table. I pick it up and put it into my jacket pocket, then I take my mobile out, and call her.

  ‘You forgot your money.’

  She laughs. ‘Give it to me tonight,’ she says.

  ‘You’re spoiling my fantasy,’ I tell her.

  ‘Oh yeah?’ Her voice is challenging, full of life.

  ‘Yeah, but nice touch—the blonde wig.’

  ‘Thought you might like a change.’

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you too,’ she says softly. I imagine her sitting in the back of the Bentley.

  ‘Text me when you get home.’

  ‘I will.’

  She makes a kissing sound and then she is gone.

  I look at my watch. Ten minutes left before my next appointment with the Crown Prince Muqrin Bin Abdel-Aziz of the House of Saud. I ring the twenty-hour butler service and ask them to summon housekeeping. The Head Butler, Daniel Jordan arrives in less than five minutes with three foreign-looking chambermaids in tow.

  In two minutes they have put right the bed and bathroom and out of the door, smiling broadly, their tips snug inside their tight fists. Daniel discreetly removes the gum from the sideboard, and perfumes the air with attar of roses. Afterwards, he takes up his position in the dining room, which is actually my favorite part of this particular suite. Soon food arrives on trolleys and waiters start gathering in the kitchen. Laura calls—His Highness and his entourage are in the lobby and on their way up. The butler starts walking towards the door.

  I shoot my cuffs.

  October, 2013

  We build our temples for tomorrow,

  strong as we know how,

  And we stand on top of the mountain,

  free within ourselves.

  Langston Hughes

  One

  Lana Bloom

  When I come back from the church, Blake is awake. He must have heard the car in the driveway. He is standing in the living room waiting for me. There are bluish shadows under his eyes, which make his eyes seem as if the entire sky has been boiled down and rendered in those two small points. He smiles faintly, like he does not quite know how to react to me, and my heart breaks for him. I remember reading George Orwell: You wear a mask and your face grows to fit it.

  I go up to him and lay my cheek on his chest. He has had a shower and he smells clean and fresh. Like my idea of heaven. I feel him nuzzle my hair. It is like a prayer for which there are no words, and my love increases and ripens, the way fruit does in the autumn. He will never again have to pretend to be anything he is not. Or wear his mask with me. I think of Beauty dancing in the great ballroom with Beast. I am madly in love with Beast.

  ‘I woke up and found you gone,’ he said. His voice is different, softer.

  ‘Did you think I’d run away?’

  ‘You can never run away from me, Lana. I would journey into the underworld to find you. You are mine.’

  ‘I went to church.’

  ‘Yes, Brian said. I thought you didn’t believe in God.’

  I look up at him. He is heartbreak in a shallow basket. ‘For short there is tall, for sad there is happy. For dark there must be light. I wanted to align myself with the God of goodness. I wanted to ask his help.’

  ‘Oh, Lana. You and all the believers of this world. You pray and you pray and all your billions of unanswered prayers are like wailing cries somewhere. Your God doesn’t exist.’ His voice is so sad.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because if he did the world wouldn’t be the way it is. And even if he does exist he is definitely not the lord of this world.’

  I look up into his face. Already the weight of being the head of the Barrington dynasty is changing the shape of his face.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Look around you, Lana. The entire planet—land, air and sea—has been poisoned by sheer greed, your food is toxic, you are governed by sociopaths who wage war after war with impunity while promising peace, and humanity itself is poised on the brink of extinction. Who do you think is in charge? Your God of love and light, or mine?’

  There is a tap on the door. Blake closes his eyes and sighs. ‘Maybe this conversation can wait till later,’ he says. He looks so tired, so burdened, I wish I could take him away from all this.

  I nod and move out of the circle of his arms.

  ‘Come in,’ he calls. And I see the transformation in him—the way the mask of power slips back into place—and lament it. Vulnerability has no place in the world of gaudy wealth.

  By the time Brian opens the door and comes in the mask is firmly in place. The man who had nuzzled my hair has dissolved.

  ‘Your brother is on the line.’

  ‘Marcus?’

  ‘No, Quinn.’

  I notice the look of surprise on his face. He takes the phone and Brian leaves, closing the door behind him.

  ‘Quinn. Yes. No. You will come? Three thirty p.m. Of course, they’ll be there. But you have nothing to fear, I will be there.’ I feel the strength flow back into his voice. ‘While I am alive they can do nothing. Have you spoken to Marcus? You should call him. This has affected him greatly. He was very close to…Dad. When will you come? Good I’ll send someone to pick you up. Goodbye Quinn.’

  He ends the call and looks at me. ‘If ever anything happens to me, the only one you must trust is Quinn.’

  Fear like l have never known slams into me. And a pain takes root so deep inside myself that I find myself gasping the next breath. ‘Why do you say that? Are you in danger?’

  ‘I don’t think so, but it is always wise to be safe. I have made extensive plans to protect you and Sorab in the event anything does happen to me. You will be safe. You will have money and a new identity.’

  I gaze at him in horror. At that moment he becomes my greatest enemy. Money? Is he mad? ‘Fuck you!’ I scream suddenly. ‘Extensive plans to protect me and Sorab? If you die on me I don’t want a fucking penny from you. It’s blood money.’

  He strides towards me and crushes me tightly against his broad chest. I crumple inside his arms. ‘Nothing is going to happen to me. I just said that as a precaution. The way other people take out life insurance.’

  ‘You are my angel,’ I sob. ‘I cannot go on without you.’

  ‘I cannot lie to you, Lana. If I have to I will sacrifice myself for you, over and over. But you must be strong. You have Sorab.’

  ‘Has it become hot in here?’ I feel feverish, as if I could faint.

  Immediately he tilts my face up to his. ‘You’re pale.’

  ‘No kidding,’ I say, but my voice seems to come from far away. My eyes burn.

  ‘I’m not trying to scare you, Lana. I’m trying to make you feel safe. I could die tomorrow in a car accident. I want you and Sorab to be safe and well. That’s all.’

  ‘Fuck you.’ I wish I could wrap my arms around him and tell him not to go anywhere.

  ‘Stay here. I’ll go get something—’

  ‘No, no, you won’t come back. Don’t leave me, please.’

  ‘It’s OK, OK. I’m not going anywhere.’

  There is a sound from below. We both turn to look at him. He gazes back at us with large, curious eyes and for an instant, for a disconcerting instant, it is as if he can see through us, right through to our tormented souls. Blake releases me and goes to his son. Sorab makes a shrill sound of delight as he picks him up. The child lays both his hands flat on his father’s cheeks as if he is trying to get all his attention. And when his father nods, he laughs. His father thr
ows him up into the air and catches him while he laughs uproariously.

  Oh God, oh God. If only he was just a normal person, if we could just live a normal life, but here he is. Trying to be normal. Trying his best to give us all he can. Yes, I do not know him. There is much left to be done, but this, this can be the prelude to our life. For I am determined to be there each morning when his eyes flutter open.

  Two

  Sorab and I leave after breakfast with Tom. Blake kisses us goodbye. He will not be coming with us. He will be going the way he came, in a black hawk. I tell Tom to stop by Billie’s. Then I call her.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asks me urgently.

  ‘We’re fine. We’re on our way to you.’

  ‘Who’s we?’

  ‘Sorab and me.’

  ‘How long before you get here?’

  ‘Two hours.’

  ‘I’ll be waiting for you,’ she says, and ends the call abruptly. I look at the phone in my hand with surprise. Strange. I thought she might want to chat, find out more. Oh well.

  I knock on her door and it is suddenly flung open. Billie snatches Sorab out of my startled hands and runs with him towards the room Billie and I have together decorated as Sorab’s. Slightly bewildered, I close the front door and follow them. I walk into the blue and yellow room in time to see her deposit Sorab in his cot, shove a toy into his hands, and turn towards me with a contorted face.

  ‘What?’ I ask and she launches herself at me. She hugs me so tight I can hardly breathe.

  ‘Hey,’ I say. ‘It’s going to be OK.’

  That only makes her go stiff in my arms. She pulls away from me. ‘Don’t lie to me, please.’

  I stare at her. I am speechless with shock. Even though her voice is utterly normal, tears are escaping from her eyes and running quickly down her face.

  ‘It’s never going to be OK, is it?’

  ‘Of course it is.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ she mutters darkly.

  I open and close my mouth without having said anything. I have never seen Billie like this before. It shocks me. She’s always so cool, so sarcastic.