Rapine: Abducted by the Billionaire

by Charlotte Rose

  Tanya’s phone buzzes beside her and she glances at her screen. “It’s Yula. I’ll be back.”

  Within minutes Yula has joined us on the terrace. “We’re just discussing that Julian guy.” Tanya informs Yula as the maid serves Yula a cocktail.

  “He is following her,” Yula states matter-of-factly. “I asked my husband and he told me it is possible to get someone’s phone number with just their name and general location.”

  “What?” I burst out.

  The maid offers us some marinated goat-cheese hors d'oeuvres from a platter. We each take one and the maid dashes away.

  “See I told you,” Tanya scolds me.

  “You should tell Derek,” Yula says.

  “I don’t think you should just yet,” Tanya advises. “Next time you see Julian, just warn him to stay away from you.”

  “He is very persistent. I don’t think a warning from you will cause him to back off,” Yula insists. “Enough about him let’s talk about something else.”

  “Well, ladies, I’ve really gotten into these vampire facials,” Tanya informs us. “I’ve been getting them once a month now. My skin really responds well to them.”

  “I was wondering what you were doing new,” Yula examines Tanya’s face. “Your skin is glowing.”

  “I haven’t tried them yet.” I chime in. “What’s it all about?”

  “It’s injections of your own blood to stimulate collagen. It’s the 21st century Elizabeth Báthory way to younger skin,” Tanya explains.

  “Elizabeth who?” I ask while taking a sip of my cocktail.

  “Elizabeth Báthory was said to have bathed in the blood of her young victims to look younger.”

  “Eww, I so don’t want to hear that before dinner,” Yula squeaks. “I’m still sticking with Botox. The earlier you start the better, since it works as a preventative as well. I’ve also been doing acupuncture facials.”

  “Yes, I love those. I really notice a difference in my skin,” I murmur.

  “I also really like the iPixel and eTwo laser,” Yula reports to us. “I’ve noticed they reduced the size of my pores and my skin is so smooth.”

  “The eTwo is not bad.” Tanya comments. “I’ve recently started using fish oil, CoQ10, and Resveratrol from LEF.”

  “From where?” I ask. Tanya is always teaching us something new.

  “Life Extension Foundation,” Tanya says as she takes a sip of her cocktail.

  “I really like Dr. Mercola krill oil and probiotics.” Yula remarks as she takes a sip of her cocktail.

  “So ladies, let’s do another night out again this weekend,” Tanya suggests.

  “I’m so up for it.” Yula takes a sip of her cocktail.

  “Maybe that Julian guy will show up again.” Tanya laughs.

  Yula frowns and takes a sip of her cocktail.

  “Ok, enough talk ladies, let’s have some dinner. I’m hungry.” Tanya walks out of the terrace and we follow behind her into the dining room.

  The table is beautifully set up and the lights are dimmed. There is an enormous chandelier, white linen covering the table, and in the center is a flower arrangement of pink juliet roses and a few candles spread about on the table. Tanya makes the best trophy housewife and always arranges everything so fabulously.

  We enjoy a delicious dinner of lobster bisque, wagyu tartare, and bison strip. For dessert we have panna cotta with poached rhubarb. Each dish is paired with a delightful wine.

  After dinner, we go back on the terrace with a glass of wine in hand just as nighttime falls upon New York, and there’s a striking bright moon above us. The maid has lit the candles, which are spread about on the terrace. We’re all buzzed and smiley. It’s a fairly chilly fall night, so we huddle under a blanket and continue chatting away.

  “My husband got so pissed last night.” Tanya frowns.

  “Why what happened?” I ask, taking a sip of my wine.

  “We were at dinner, and this man was eyeing me at another table. I kept glancing over at him and he wouldn’t even look away. My husband noticed, got up, walked over to his table, and told him to stop staring at his wife or he will take him on.”

  “Are you serious?” Yula bursts out laughing.

  I giggle and take a sip of my wine. “What did the guy do?”

  “He said, ‘I’m sorry but I find your wife very beautiful, it’s a compliment to you sir, you’re a lucky man,’ Tanya explains. “So my husband came back and sat down and let the guy stare at me the whole time we were there.”

  We all burst out laughing.

  “What was his background?” Yula asks.

  “He had a Mexican accent.”

  “I find that Spanish men like blondes,” Yula says. “It’s like bees to honey.”

  “What background do you think Julian is?” Tanya asks me.

  “We’re back to him?” Yula mutters under her breath.

  “He looks to be from Italy or Spain,” I say while taking a sip of wine.

  “That’s where the hottest men are from,” Tanya coos. “Before I met my husband, I’ve had a few very hot flings with wealthy Italian and Spanish men. Italian men make great lovers. The Spanish men I’ve dated were okay lovers, but just really horny all the time.”

  We all burst out laughing.

  “What background is your husband again?” Yula asks.

  “My husband is Portuguese and he is amazing in bed,” Tanya gloats. “I don’t know if all Portuguese men are, but he sure is.”

  I giggle and take a sip of my wine. Holy fuck, I am buzzed. I feel my head spinning. Maybe I should slow down on the wine.

  “His fetish is nice bums so my husband loves doggie style,” Tanya giggles.

  “My husband is a breast and leg man, so he likes any position that involves both.” Yula giggles and we join her. “What about Derek?” Yula asks me.

  I consider this and conclude that I have no idea what features Derek likes in me. “Derek likes every position, but I’m not sure what body parts he favors.”

  “Well, really when it comes down to it we all know which feature every single man loves the most.” We all burst out laughing. “Have you girls read that book by Kara King, The Power of the Pussy?”

  Yula and I both shake our heads no.

  “No, what is it about?” I ask Tanya.

  “It’s about the power we have. We can get anything we want out of men because we have what they want more than anything else.”

  “Pussy,” Yula giggles.

  “You just have to know how to get what you want out of men,” Tanya says and takes a sip of her wine. “And really men will do anything to have pussy.”

  “What about men that commit rape?” Yula asks.

  “Well in that way, they take away our power but if they have to work hard to get it, then they treat you with love and respect.”

  We continue chatting away and begin discussing the latest gossip around Manhattan.

  After a while, I’m hit with realization that we’ve been chatting for a very long time. “OMG girls, what time is it?” I ask, feeling disoriented, checking my phone. Holy fuck. I got six mixed calls from Derek and a few angry text messages:

  9:20 p.m. Where are you now?

  10:12 p.m. When are you coming home?

  11:37 p.m. You’re not responding to my texts or calls, what is going on?

  12:45 p.m. Where the fuck are you?

  1:25 p.m. You aren’t answering my calls or texts. If you are ignoring me, I’m going to be really fucking pissed off.

  He’s pissed. Really, really pissed. I send him a quick text message:

  Honey, I’m fine.

  I’m just with the girls having drinks on Tanya’s penthouse terrace.

  I’ll be home shortly.

  I get a message from him right away:

  Leave now or I’m coming to get you.

  Oh shit. He’s really pissed off. He’s never come to get me before during a night out with the girls.

  “Girls, I have to
go, Derek is waiting for me at home.” I call my driver and tell him to pick me up. He lets me know he’ll be there in ten minutes.

  Once he is waiting downstairs, I gather my purse and stand up. My head starts spinning. I have to hold on to the edge of the couch. “My driver is here,” I slur as I try to maintain my balance.

  “Okay, I’ll walk you out,” Tanya stands up and intertwines her arm with mine. We walk out the terrace, through her extravagant penthouse and to the door. We hug, give each other double cheek kisses, and I make my way out. Somehow I make it downstairs in one piece and into the Rolls Royce.

  When I get home, Derek is in the living room on his laptop. When he sees me by the entrance, he stands up and rushes toward me. I’m feeling really dizzy and struggle to get my strappy Jimmy Choos off my feet. I sit on the white Barcelona bench in the large entrance and I’m fiddling around with the strap of one of my shoes, trying hard to get it off.

  Derek examines me. “Here, let me do that,” he whispers. “You’ve been drinking?”

  “Just a few after dinner,” I slur as he bends down and carefully unstraps both my Jimmy Choos off my feet.

  “You reek of alcohol,” he growls.

  He grabs my arm, stands me up, and inspects me. “You can barely stand straight.” I see a flash of rage cross his face.

  I shoot my eyes down onto a random spot on the floor. “I’m sorry for not responding to you, I for…for...forgot,” I stutter. Maybe I should stop talking, my speech is getting worse by the minute.

  “You really fucking pissed me off today,” he growls deeply.

  I am standing with downcast eyes and begin to twist a strand of my hair around my finger. “I’m sor...soorrry,” I cry out.

  He scoops me up unexpectedly over his shoulder, and hits me hard on my rear so that I squeal. He carries me into the bedroom and throws me onto the bed. I notice he takes off his white silk tie and begins undressing himself. What is he doing?

  I struggle to sit up on the bed.

  “Get back down,” he growls ferociously.

  “I need to pee,” I slur.

  “No,” he warns, his voice icy.

  He gets on top of me, pulls up my dress to my waist, and pushes my panties aside. He inserts three fingers and shoves them rhythmically inside me. I close my eyes and groan loudly as I feel his hardness pressing up against my leg.

  “I love you,” I pout. “Don’t be mad at me.”

  “Ok,” he says dryly. “I’ll forgive you, once I punish you.”

  After some time he withdraws his fingers. I relax as I feel him kissing my stomach. My mind starts to shut down from the alcohol. Suddenly, I feel him slip up inside me and shove his entire length deep inside me so that I cry out in surprise.

  He plunges in deep and I surrender to the feeling of his length briskly rubbing against all my inner nerve endings and stretching me wide.

  I groan and whimper loudly as he repeatedly slams into me, sending all kinds of exhilarating sensations through me. This kind of punishment sex I like.

  I am wounding up, ready to climax hard but Derek suddenly halts and I feel him shoot his heavy load inside me. I feel the blast of his warm liquid entering me as he roars with gratification. He continues thrusting slowly, warm liquid still oozing into me. He withdraws and rolls off me before I have a chance to climax. Fucking punishment sex.

  We lay still for a while, and I am feeling aggravated like an itch I can’t scratch. However, I quickly overlook this as my mind completely shuts down and I fall into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Thursday, 9:15 a.m. I get up, my head still spinning from last night’s heavy consumption of Flirtini cocktails. I stumble over into the washroom, brush my teeth, and take a shower with June Jacobs citrus shower gel in an effort to awake.

  After the shower, I feel fresh and a little more alert, but my head starts pounding. I scurry over into the kitchen, grab an Advil, and down it with a whole bottle of desalinated deep-sea water. Wow I was thirsty. My headache immediately starts to calm. I must have been dehydrated pretty badly.

  I make myself a small bowl of fruit salad and freshly squeezed orange juice. I flip through the New York Times on my Kindle Fire. Nothing unusual is going on in the world: Shootings, massacres, U.S. economy slowdown, and political bullshit.

  I go into my walk-in closet, slide into a hot pink Guia La Bruna bra and panty and a short hot pink Prada A-line style dress. I put makeup on, straighten my hair, and add gloss de-frizz polishing drops until my hair is silky smooth and fabulously shiny. I pick out a pair of hot pink Manolo Blahniks. I spritz on some Hermes 24 Faubourg perfume on the side of my neck and behind my knees. I feel good now. I wonder if Derek is still mad at me.

  I call him and get no answer. That’s standard. I text message him with my apologies, and get on with my day.

  Yula sends me a text informing me we are going to lunch at The Modern. That’s one of my favorite New York restaurants. I reply back telling her I’ll be there.

  I get my private driver to take me to an IV treatment clinic and I get a “Myers’ Cocktail” IV therapy to completely wipe out my hangover.

  I meet for lunch with the girls at The Modern and we are promptly seated right by the floor-to-ceiling windows. I have rabbit terrine, brie soufflé, and quail. I tell the girls how strange it feels coming back to my past workplace, The Museum of Modern Art for lunch, knowing I will never have a real career another day in my life. Tanya tells me being married to a multi-billionaire is the best career a woman can have as long as there is no prenup. Such a marriage can ensure high financial security, which no job can promise.

  For dessert we each order a different dessert and an espresso. We take a bite or two from each other’s dessert just to sample. Tanya and Yula suggest we go out to a lounge on the weekend. I tell them I will ask Derek. We head out together and part our separate ways. Just as I hop into the Rolls Royce to my next appointment of the day, Derek calls me.

  “Hello honey,” I answer in a sugary-sweet tone.

  “Where are you?” He asks abruptly.

  “I just finished lunch with the girls and I am heading to my next appointment.”

  “I don’t want you going out late with them anymore. I want you to focus on planning the wedding,” he commands gruffly.

  I gulp. That’s not fair. Every girl needs a girl’s night out.

  “Is that clear?” He asks harshly.

  “Yes,” I whimper.

  “Good,” he says firmly. “You know the wedding and our world trip is just two months away. I need you one hundred percent ready.”

  “I’m sorry for last night,” I whimper.

  “I expect you to be home at 8:00 p.m. tonight, as well as every other night from now on,” he says sternly. “Got it?”

  “Yes honey, I understand. No more late nights.”

  “See you at 8:00 p.m. then.” He hangs up before I fit in another word.

  Surely he doesn’t mean any more late nights for the rest of my life? I really enjoy a night out with the girls on occasion. I completely forgot about the world trip. I so don’t want to go. I’m going to miss my friends, and my walk-in closet, and my favorite city in the world.

  The rest of my day is composed of eyebrow threading, full-body waxing, a Shellac pedicure, an oxygenating booster facial, and a Swedish massage.

  When I come out onto the busy New York streets from my massage, a lady brushes past me with the cutest little dog I’ve ever seen. I admire the little white ball of fur, and insist on stopping her to ask her about the breed. It’s absolutely adorable and looks like a little bear. She’s very friendly and lets me hold it as she explains it’s a micro teacup Pomeranian purchased from a luxury boutique breeder. She gives me the contact information to the breeder as well as her contact information. She’s in her early twenties, a pretty blonde girl, dressed to the nines. She says I can call her anytime but she has a hair appointment and needs to get going. As I watch the two of them stroll away, I think to myself,
if I can’t have a baby, I’ll get a puppy. I will ask Derek for one and then I can take it traveling with us. It will be a jet-set puppy.

  I come home at 7:44 p.m. and settle down for the day. I text my friends and let them know Derek is not happy about me going out and will not allow me out past 8:00 p.m. for the next few months or so.

  I change into an Agent Provocateur red bra, panty, and suspenders. I want to look hot for Derek. I check out myself in the mirror. I look like a VS model. How can he be mad if he sees me in this? I apply some lip gloss and fix my makeup so it’s flawless. I apply some Victoria’s Secret body shimmer spray all over my legs and arms.

  I decide against having wine, and make myself a cup of DAVIDsTEA Gold Rush tea instead. I turn on the Schaub Lorenz 40-inch LCD TV in the living room, which so rarely gets turned on due to my busy schedule. Derek turns it on even less than me. It’s more just an art piece than a practical item as it’s studded with diamonds and white gold. I flip to the Fashion TV channel and watch the fashion show playing currently.

  When Derek gets home from work and appears in the living room, I dash to him; halt right in front of him and peck him on the cheek.

  “Hello honey, I miss you,” I say sweetly.

  He brushes past me without a word and strides to his walk-in closet. I follow swiftly behind him. He is undressing as I walk right up to him.

  “I’m sorry for last night,” I snivel and lift my hand to stroke his face in a conciliatory gesture. He pushes my hand away.

  “Don’t,” he says, his voice so threateningly quiet that I’m immediately silenced.

  He walks away from me and into the washroom. I hear the shower water running.

  I shuffle back into the living room and go back to watching the fashion show while finishing off my cup of tea. I guess wearing sexy lingerie was not enough this time.

  After a while, he calls me into the bedroom. I scuttle over to him. He’s wearing nothing but black Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

  “I promise I won’t go out. I’m sorry about last night. I’m sorry…” my words rush out in one breath.