Just like Grey (Series ONE Complete Set): Billionaire Romance

by Jessie Cooke

  Christo, on the other hand, looked like the cat who ate the canary.

  “Do I have to go topless again?” she asked shyly.

  “Yes,” Christo said definitely. “Your dress will be all the more beautiful and elegant this time, though, and I’ll still paint the mask to hide your face. Cheer up,” he said. “Don’t you remember how much fun we had last time? I don’t think I’ve seen you laugh so hard in my life.”

  Just the memory of the tickle of Christo’s paint brush caused Bella to burst into giggles.

  “That’s right,” Christo said, “you just laugh that Little Bella Blue on out of here. Turn the corner on this funk. We’re gonna have a good time! And who knows, maybe your masked crusader will be there.”

  “Yeah, right,” Bella said with sarcasm, but between her legs, she felt a nostalgic flick of the masked man’s tongue, and a hope rose within.

  7

  Christo had done it again. Bella looked at herself in the mirror. The white and pink lace he had painted across her shoulders, breasts, and torso looked just like something you’d see a ballerina wearing on stage. The tutu had been genius on Christo’s part, and Bella was thankful for more than just a g-string. That had been his gift to her.

  She felt beautiful and feminine. Fierce yet fragile all at the same time, and that was what lent her the confidence with which she strode through the door of Hamilton, Simmons, and Associates for the party. She was running a little late, having stopped for some extra supplies at Christo’s request, and her heart almost jumped out of her chest when she saw him.

  He wore the same Titan-style steely mask. She dropped the extra tubes of paint and brushes she was carrying in her hands, flustered with the sensation that had bolted through her body at the sight of that familiar mask. She found herself hoping he hadn’t noticed, and then slinking away to grab a tray of drinks and busy herself.

  She did everything she possibly could to keep one eye on the familiar mask. If he moved into a circle, she went to another. Once he left, she felt safe enough to approach the group, but little did she know that he too had one eye on her.

  She walked into the office kitchenette to refill her drink tray when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

  “I think these belong to you.”

  She turned to see the silvery-masked man twirling her red g-string on his fingers. The same fingers that had brought so much pleasure to her, and she felt her knees weaken with the memory.

  She lowered the tray to prevent it from crashing to the floor, but she couldn’t get her voice to utter the thoughts in her head.

  “Technically, I should keep these, I think,” he continued. “After all, I believe you still have my jacket.”

  She nodded silently, unable to even utter a whispered “yes”, but her body was saying “yes” already. She felt her nipples harden and her face flushing with excitement.

  “If I’d been really smart,” he said as he flicked the lock on the door behind him, “I would have made certain to leave my business card in the pocket. Then, you could have found me.”

  Bella felt certain that her anonymous lover could see her heart pounding through her chest, and she knew he was keen to the response her body was having at the situation.

  Those caramel eyes held her own, and Bella already felt the rumble of desire deep within her torso. Her mind raced back to the abandoned office in the Trinity Building. The two of them against the desk, then on top of the desk, then practically underneath the desk on the floor. Her breath caught as she realized her concealed lover had closed the distance and had caught her up in his arms, pressing her lace-painted body against his strong chest.

  “I didn’t think it possible for you to look more beautiful, but . . . well, Christo is a master, isn’t he?”

  Her lips met his before she had time to think about what she was doing. She was hungry, and she didn’t care that he knew it. Her hands tangled through his dark waves, and she gave it a short tug as she nipped his lower lip playfully.

  Bella heard him moan, and suddenly his fingers were there, underneath her tutu, pulling at her lace bikini panties between her legs. She knew she was wet with anticipation, just as she felt his excitement bulging with heat against her pelvis.

  Feeling she had nothing to lose, Bella’s hand went to his mask, but he stayed her grasp.

  “Uh-uh-uh,” he softly scolded. “No fair. Your mask is painted on. I have no choice. Mine stays on . . . at least for now.”

  The game actually excited her and emboldened her, and she broke away for a split second, pushing him to sit in one of the stainless steel chairs that matched the color of his mask. With a confidence she’d never known before, Bella reached down, unzipped his pants, and freed his erection. With careful fingers, she caressed the head of his penis, this time hearing Reece’s breath catch deep in his throat. She straddled him, her flat abdomen mere centimeters from his lips.

  Still masked, Reece let his tongue skim Bella’s belly button lightly, and she slowly lowered herself down onto his sex.

  “This tutu has got to go,” he mumbled, reaching around to unfasten the ballerina gear. Once it was cast aside, Bella’s masked lover placed his hands on each of her hips and began gently rocking her side to side. His lips suckled her left nipple as she took control of the rocking. The smell of him again only served to intensify her experience—the musty sandalwood and soap mixing with her jasmine to create a heady perfume that made her feel almost high.

  And just as Bella was on the verge, three breaths away from climax, there was a knock on the door.

  She jumped up, grabbing her tutu as she dismounted Reece, who was standing and zipping himself adeptly. He opened the door just as she was righting the tray.

  “Hi,” he greeted Mitzi, his business partner.

  “What’s going on?” she said eyeing Reece and Bella.

  “Nothing. I was moving some supplies, but I guess I blocked the doorway. We’re going through this champagne crazy-fast,” he said smoothly.

  “And that’s what I came for,” she said, grabbing a bottle from the case. “I thought you said Christo was bringing extra waitresses,” she said. “We’re barely keeping up with the demand here.”

  “I think we’re keeping up with demand just fine,” Reece said, catching Bella’s eye and winking.

  A giggle escaped from Bella before she was able to stifle it, but thankfully her little burst was lost in the noise of the party outside the door.

  Mitzi eyed the two of them again suspiciously, then added, “Well, I’d better get back to the party.” She turns to Reece. “Elias was looking for you. You’d better make an appearance.” Then she waltzed off calling to someone across the room.

  Reece turned his silver mask to Bella. He held out an embossed business card to Bella. “You, my dear, are the most amazing woman I’ve ever encountered, and this time, I want to make sure you’re able to find me now.”

  Bella read it. “Reece Hamilton?!”

  “That’s me,” he bowed. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “Shit. I mean, I’d better get back to work. I don’t want these drinks running dry.”

  And she was gone, this time battling the shame and the guilt of knowing she’d screwed her best friend’s boyfriend . . . twice.

  Bella had trouble breathing the rest of the night. If she weren’t a woman of her word (could she even claim that now? After screwing her best friend’s boyfriend?), she would have run out of that party and left Christo with one less waitress on his rotation, but she couldn’t do that to him. She had to see this through. Put on her big-girl panties (at least she had them this time), and just get through the night . . . without any more incidents with Reece Hamilton.

  Her stomach dropped, and she felt queasy. How could she? How could she have had sex with a perfect stranger? How could she have had sex twice with her best girlfriend’s steady boyfriend? The man Nicky was sure was going to change her life? She had listened to Nicky fawn and drool over Reece for wee
ks now, this man who was too good to be true. And now Bella knew he was. He was a cheater! He’d cheated on her best friend.

  Her ire was up as she thought about the asshole Reece Hamilton truly was. How could he be so horrible? How would she tell Nicky?

  Shit! She couldn’t tell her; she would implicate herself, and that would be even worse. Then she’d be “the other woman” to her own best friend!

  But I didn’t know, Bella told herself. I had no clue that he was connected to Nicky.

  The other voice in her head—the one that sounded a lot like her mother—fought back.

  It didn’t matter whether it was Nicky or not; you should have checked to see if he was connected to any other woman. Whatever happened to the Golden Rule? Whatever happened to discretion? Whatever happened to acting like a lady?

  But I didn’t know it was him; he was masked.

  No excuse, young lady, came the mother-like voice. And who does this—has sex with a man she knows nothing about and can’t even see his face?

  It was the same for him. He had no idea who I was . . . I hope.

  Then the thought struck her: he had to have known it was her. He had to have been expecting her. He’d had her underwear from the last time, and he’d been prepared with a condom. It was all planned. Somehow he knew who she was, at the very least that she worked for Christo. What if he told Nicky, and Nicky put two and two together? Not only would it break Nicky’s heart for her to learn she was in another relationship with an unfaithful man, but it would kill her to know the man was having random sex with masked women that he tracked down and planned to meet. And then, to find out that masked woman was her very best friend?!

  Bella clanged an empty tray down onto a stand and headed for the nearest bathroom. She was sure she was going to pass out, or at least vomit all over herself. She knew she’d have to play out the evening as if nothing had happened. Hell, she’d have to play out the rest of her life as if nothing had happened. She’d certainly never tell Christo. This one she’d have to suck up and swallow down and deal with it all on her own.

  The image of Reece between her legs popped into her head.

  Ok. Poor choice of words, she confessed to herself, and she splashed cold water on her face, smoothed back her hair, and tossed her shoulders back as she headed back out into the party.

  8

  Normally Bella hated Christmas. It meant a lot of family reunions where she had to answer the same questions every year.

  “Are you seeing anyone?”

  “Why not?”

  “Don’t you want kids?”

  “How’s the career?”

  She’d sit around—usually by herself—balancing a plate full of fatty foods and a plastic cup of iced tea while her cousins’ twelve thousand rowdy kids ran around chasing each other playing tag or some other game, screaming and inevitably knocking something off of Bella’s lap.

  Oh, she loved her family, but she’d opted out of the cattle business and pursued an artist’s life, so everyone thought she was weird, and the fact that she lived with “a gay” was incomprehensible, especially to her grandfather.

  “So you live with a fella,” he’d say, “but this fella isn’t your boyfriend?”

  “No, Grandpa,” she tried to reply with patience.

  “Why not?”

  “Because Christo is gay, Grandpa. He isn’t attracted to women.”

  “Then why the hell are you living there?”

  “He’s my friend, and it’s a great house.”

  “Ain’t gonna help your chances,” Grandpa would assert.

  “Why do you say?”

  “What man wants to go over and try and court a lady only to have another dude after him the whole time?”

  The anger and injustice Bella would endure on Christo’s behalf used to have her tied in knots for days, until her mother finally told Bella that her grandfather was too old fashioned and too Republican to change.

  “There’s no need for you to get angry. You should really feel sorry for the old geezer. It’s his own loss, missing out on knowing Christo and letting go of those prejudices . . . but some people are too old and set in their ways.”

  So now Bella just rolled her eyes and reminded her grandfather that “being ‘a gay’” did not mean he was out to rape or convert every man he came in contact with. Maybe with repetition of the lesson, something would sink in.

  But this Christmas held a new possibility for Bella.

  “You’ll never guess what happened!” Bella gushed as she entered the living room after work and tossed her purse on the sofa next to Christo.

  “You won a million dollars?” Christo tried.

  “No.”

  “You adopted a kitten?”

  “No.”

  “You found your masked lover?”

  Bella shook her head and held up her hand.

  “Just stop,” she grinned.

  “Well, don’t challenge me if you don’t want me to guess!”

  “I just landed a dream job decorating a holiday home. The owner said he wanted the most promising intern of the firm to do the project. He’s given me free rein to do whatever I want as long as it’s classy.”

  Christo clapped and jumped up. He grabbed Bella’s shoulders and began hopping up and down, insisting she do the same.

  “That’s sooooo cool! And sounds like so much fun! What are you gonna do?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never met the client, and Rita said I probably wouldn’t see him. That means I have no clue what his likes and dislikes are. I have to go in cold and figure it out. It’s exciting to be given so much freedom, but . . . . well, it’s nerve-wracking too. I’ll be decorating without a brief.”

  Christo gripped her shoulders firmly and looked her square in the eyes.

  “You can do this. I have faith in you.”

  She sighed. “I’m glad you do. Just make sure it’s enough faith for the both of us.”

  “So, when do you start?” Christo asked.

  “It’s weekend work. Rita told the client she couldn’t spare me during the week, but I need to get on it. The client wants it all done ASAP.”

  “Where’s the house?”

  “South Padre,” she answered, awaiting the twinkle in Christo’s eyes.

  “I love South Padre!” he clapped.

  “I know, which is why I was going to ask a small favor.”

  “Please, please, please ask me to go to Padre with you,” Christo was already anticipating.

  “Would you? I think between two artists we should be able to quickly come up with a kick-ass décor!”

  “Oh, yes! I’d love to! This will be like holiday for me!”

  “Except you’re working,” Bella reminded him with a warning finger.

  “But no one really works on South Padre! It’s vacation all the time!” Christo grabbed Bella and twirled her around, dancing her into the kitchen where he reached for glasses and sparkling grape juice.

  “Let’s celebrate! When do we leave?”

  “In the morning,” Bella informed him, “so celebrate quickly and then get to packing. We’ll be gone all weekend, and it’s a long drive, so I want to get started early.”

  She awoke an hour earlier than anticipated the next morning, so keyed up with nerves and adrenaline. She decided to take a chance and rouse Christo early, hoping they could get on the road faster than they’d planned.

  The eight hours actually went by quickly, and Christo was so excited about a holiday and frolicking around a millionaire’s house that he didn’t grumble or complain at all when Bella shook him awake at 4 a.m. When they pulled up to the tri-level stucco-style house on Fountain Way, Christo’s and Bella’s mouths dropped open at the same time.

  “This . . . is . . . amazing,” Christo breathed.

  Bella could only nod, feeling overwhelmed at the daunting task before her.

  “This is gonna be so . . .”

  “FUN!” Christo finished for her. “Come on, let’s go check this pl
ace out. Maybe you can get some inspiration from the interior.”

  But it was obvious that the interior had been done professionally. There were lots of clean lines; lots of steel, and still the Tex-Mex influence woven in without it being kitschy.

  “It’s got to be a man,” Christo announced.

  “What makes you think so?” Bella asked, half-offended.

  “Clean lines. Reflective surfaces. Neutral colors. There’s no evidence of a female touch anywhere in here. I’ll bet he’s quite the man’s man. Look at these longhorn skulls in this office. Rustic.” Christo shivered. “Just what I like!”

  Bella popped Christo playfully on the butt.

  “No time for daydreaming, slave. We’ve got work to do. Now how about you do your manly duty and bring in those bags from the car. I want to go through the other rooms and make a few notes. Then, we’ll rumble.”

  “Rumble?” Christo asked.

  “Yeah, you know, plot our war strategy.”

  Christo laughed. “I don’t know what word you’re looking for, but it’s not that one, for certain.”

  Bella waved her hand. “Whatever. Just get my stuff, do you mind?”

  And he was off, dancing through the front door back out to the circular driveway where Bella’s car sat loaded with enough luggage, samples, and swatches for a month.

  Reece glided his silver Porsche Boxster S onto Fountain Way, glancing at the Victoria’s Secret box, two dozen roses, champagne, and chilled chocolates sitting in the passenger’s seat beside him. He grinned as he thought about the extra little box he’d slipped into the Victoria Secret box. He loved surprises. But he was not prepared for the surprise of seeing Christo Drake unloading the car that was parked in his driveway.

  “Shit,” he cursed. “What is it with this guy?”

  He had known Bella would be there this weekend which was the whole reason he’d gone through all this trouble. Reece had been doing his homework and finally tracked down the firm she was working for. He had convinced the president that he’d heard Bella’s name dropped at a company party as one of their up-and-coming newbies, and he wanted her to take on his project. When he’d checked with the assistant and she’d informed him that Bella was planning to be at the house this weekend, he’d pulled together the rest of his plan, taken a few days off of work, and hit the road.