A Billionaire Punishes Part 1 (Erotic Romance)

by Nic Saint

  “I have puppies,” I muttered. “You have the whole kennel right there.”

  “You have to stop disparaging yourself, Erin,” she said, suddenly serious. “You’re a beautiful young woman and you’ll make this billionaire playboy a very happy man.”

  I grimaced. “Listen to yourself. ‘Billionaire playboy’. In what universe does a billionaire playboy ever feel attracted to someone like me? Most guys tend to think I’m a boy, not a girl. And playboys, Tamara, don’t fall for girls like me. Trust me, I know.”

  She was silent for a bit, which I considered quite an achievement, for it’s very hard to shut Tamara up. But then I’d just reminded her of my last dating fiasco with some player named Bill, who had somehow managed to coerce me into giving him a blow job in the toilet of the restaurant where we were having our first date, then decided to skedaddle while I was still spitting out his cum. Yes, good old Bill saddled me with the bill—how’s that for a pun—and never called me again. I could still taste his semen in my mouth when I thought of that humiliating experience.

  “Forget about that scumbag,” she said softly, putting her hand on mine. “Focus on new opportunities.”

  “Grmph,” I said.

  “Trust auntie Tamara,” she said. “Everything’s gonna be all right.”

  “Hrmph.”

  Chapter 3

  The next day saw me feverishly raid my closet in search for something secretarial—correction: executive secretarial—to wear. True, I’d been a secretary—Celeste had been right about that—but unfortunately only on paper. Yep, I’d juiced up my résumé just a teeny tiny bit so I could score a better job. Which, at least according to Tamara, I’d finally managed to do.

  I finally found the classic white blouse that I’d worn to Uncle Lamarr’s funeral years ago, and a boring black skirt, and that was just about the best I could do on such short notice and a call center agent’s salary. From my recollection, all secretaries look like schoolmarms—serious and sexless—and my clothes reflected just that.

  Perhaps Tamara was right and I really was cut out for a secretarial job: at least I had the sexless part down pat. Inspecting myself in the mirror, I let my hands caress my tiny boobs. They were small, granted, with poky pink nipples that I usually had a hard time concealing, but at least they’d never given me back pain, which was something Tamara sometimes complained about. Be thankful for small favors, I earnestly reminded myself, before signing off on my new look, and sweeping from my studio apartment when I realized I’d miss my bus if I didn’t promptly made a run for it.

  Half an hour of commute later, I arrived at the headquarters of Hearts & Flowers, Inc, oddly enough located on the second floor of a small shopping mall downtown. Coffee shoppes, arts & crafts stores and a couple of children’s clothing boutiques all centered around a cozy little cobblestone square with a fountain and a smattering of benches for the happy shoppers’ weary husbands.

  The place cheered me right up. At least it was better than Flowers For You, which was located in the gray, nondescript small business section on the edge of town—all steel and concrete office buildings and not a patch of green in sight. Talk about depressing. Obviously this Carswell, whoever he was, had better taste. Or more money to spend on rent.

  I walked past one of the arts & crafts stores, and entered through a glass door into a small lobby, where a single elevator awaited me with but one destination: Hearts & Flowers. As I waited for the car to ride down, a second visitor entered and joined me. Dressed in an olive green check shirt and casual jeans, he gave me a friendly nod. Probably one of the delivery men, I figured, for he looked a bit disheveled with his stubbled chin, rumpled shirt and messy hair.

  He must have noticed I was checking him out, for I suddenly caught a glint of sparkling green eyes and the flash of a smile, and I quickly looked away. In truth, he was quite gorgeous. Talk about the Coca Cola man!

  “Hi,” he said by way of greeting. “Also on your way to Hearts & Flowers?”

  “Yup,” I said, feeling my cheeks flush. “First day,” I explained.

  “Ah, I know the feeling,” he said with a grin. Those dimpled cheeks! That square jaw! That cute butt! “I’ve only been here three months and I still feel goosebumps each time I ride that elevator up to the third floor.”

  “Third floor?” I said. “That’s where I’m going.”

  “Great,” he said when the elevator dinged. “We can ride together.”

  “Great,” I said, a big smile plastered across my face.

  The elevator was one of those cramped contraptions that make you search out the inbuilt display for the alarm button the minute you step on board. In fact the thing was so cramped, I couldn’t help but nudge my companion’s arm with mine as we stood side by side. And what an arm. I could tell at a glance pure steel was concealed under that thin layer of cotton. Since I was almost a full head smaller than Mister Universe, the next thing I noticed was how his chest bulged in all the right places. Like I said: pure steel.

  “These things always give me the creeps,” he said in a low voice. “I actually prefer to take the stairs but oddly enough, this building doesn’t have any.”

  “It doesn’t?” I said, my eyes now traveling down to his pants. Holy crap! What was that bulge? More steel?

  “Oh, there is a staircase all right, only it’s located on the other side of the building and takes you to a puppy store.”

  “Is that right?” I said a bit dreamily.

  “And since they only open at ten, and the only way to get to Hearts & Flowers is through the puppy store…”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “That’s why I take the elevator,” he finished, and turned his head to face me.

  His profile had been bad enough, but now that I was treated to the full impact of his handsome features, I swooned and suddenly vivid fantasies of this hunky stranger taking me right there in that very elevator flashed through my mind.

  I must have been staring at him with my mouth open, for he flashed me a grin.

  “Are you okay?” he said. “You look a bit queasy.”

  “I-I-I’m fine,” I said, wide-eyed. Take me. Take me now!

  “Must be the lack of oxygen,” he said.

  “Must be,” I faltered, resisting a sudden urge to touch his bicep.

  “Ah, here we are,” he said when the elevator jerked to a stop. He reached out a hand and took my arm.

  “I’ll be all right,” I said when he escorted me into a small lobby, then through a glass door into a waiting area. “I didn’t eat this morning, that’s probably why…” My voice trailed off when I took in my new surroundings.

  There were flowers everywhere, from the wallpaper to the upholstery of the couches that lined the walls to the dozens of vases that decorated every possible surface in sight.

  “Nice, huh?” he said when he saw my pleasant surprise. “I figured since I was calling the company Hearts & Flowers, every part of it should reflect our core business.” He spread his arms. “Flowers.” He grinned again, displaying those delectable dimples. “And hearts, of course. So I guess you’re Erin Gould, my new secretary?”

  “Your secretary?” I said, blinking as if suddenly exposed to the summer sun.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I forgot to introduce myself. How rude of me.” He reached out his hand, and took mine in a firm grip. “I’m Remington Carswell. I run this place.”

  Chapter 4

  It’s probably not for everyone to mistake their new boss for a delivery man. It just goes to show what a great judge of character I am. Of course, the episode with Bill the sleazeball should have told you that already. Since I had a vague impression of Remington Carswell as a slick shark, and this man I’d just met was slick nor sharkish, I was speechless for a moment, as I automatically shook his hand. He did have a strong grip, I hadn’t been mistaken about that.

  “You’re a billionaire?” I blurted out before realizing that was probably not the best thing to say when meeting the new boss.
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  He laughed. “I am, but please don’t hold it against me. It’s all family money anyway, and most of it is stashed away safely in bonds, stock certificates and real estate, so far out of reach I couldn’t spend it if I wanted to.”

  That was a lot more information than I needed to hear, but I appreciated the candor.

  “I’m your new secretary,” I said.

  “Great. You can’t believe how relieved I was that the agency managed to find someone on such short notice. And with such excellent references. So you used to work for Johnny Barker, huh?”

  I almost said, “Did I?” but managed to bite my lip and merely nod intelligently as if I knew what the hell he was talking about.

  “How is old Johnny these days? Still in good shape?”

  “Still going strong,” I said, wondering why Celeste had failed to brief me on this ‘upgrade’ of my résumé.

  “He is?” said Remington with a frown. “So all that talk about his debilitating stroke is highly exaggerated then, is it? Last I heard he could barely remember his own name. Oh, well. Just goes to show you shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

  “Exactly,” I said a little uncertainly. Well, he certainly was right about that. I just hoped no more surprises would pop up in the course of our conversation.

  “Now how much do you know about the flower business?”

  He’d led me into his office, which was roomy, airy and done up in the same floral motif as the rest of the place. I just couldn’t figure a guy like him running a business like this, and dressing up his office as if it were a girl’s playroom.

  “Did… you design all this?” I said, not able to curb my curiosity.

  He grinned, flashing me those stunning pearly whites once more, and lowered his gaze. “You got me. No, I didn’t. Gladys did, actually. My former secretary? Too bad you can’t meet her. She’s on a Caribbean cruise right now. Met mister right on Sunday, got engaged on Monday and one month later she was walking down the aisle and I was minus one damned great secretary. Why, don’t you like what she did to the place?”

  “No, I like it,” I hastened to say. “It’s just that…”

  “It’s not really me? You’re probably right. Still, I like it. It’s like working in a flower shop, which of course this basically is.” He gave me a comical face and in spite of my nervousness I laughed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “When I’m nervous I start babbling.”

  He’d taken a seat behind his desk, which was strewn with papers and stacks of brides magazines for some reason, and gestured at a white plastic swivel chair in front of it.

  “Sit down. Let’s get to know each another. I’m Remington—Rem for my pals. I’m 28, single, youngest in a nest of five brothers, I like horse riding, long country walks, hiking and… flowers, of course. What about you, Erin? What makes you tick?”

  “Well, I’m Erin,” I began, but he interrupted me.

  “And even more importantly, what motivated you to apply for this job?”

  “That’s easy,” I said. “Who wouldn’t want to work for the fastest growing small business in town? Besides, like you, I love flowers. I actually used to work for Flowers For You…” My voice trailed off. Dammit. The last thing I should have told him was the first thing out of my mouth!

  His eyebrows flickered up at these words. “Oh? You used to work for Celeste Carter? How did that happen?”

  “Oh, just something I stumbled into,” I said, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks when I realized that Celeste most probably hadn’t included that little tidbit of information in my file.

  He frowned and dug a piece of paper from under a stack, smoothed it out and glanced at it. “When was that?” he said.

  “It’s been a while. I was only there for a couple of weeks,” I said, my mind working rapidly. “Just temping. I don’t think I even mentioned it in my CV.”

  “No, you didn’t,” he said, eyeing me curiously.

  “Didn’t seem worthwhile to mention,” I said with a shrug.

  He seemed to deliberate for a moment, then relented. “You know, that makes you even more perfect for the job. You knowing a bit about the flower business, I mean.”

  Phew. I could breathe again. “That’s one of the reasons I applied for this job,” I said. “I like the business but not…”

  “Not Celeste?” He smiled. “Can’t blame you. She’s a tough cookie, isn’t she?”

  “She is,” I agreed, “a pretty tough cookie.”

  “Well, if you used to work for her, you’ll find working for me a walk in the park. I’m the best boss in the world. And before you start accusing me of extreme self-delusion, those are not my words, but my former secretary, the amazingly talented and now extremely married Gladys.”

  The conversation, after having taken a wrong turn, seemed back on the right track, and I relaxed, even going so far as to cross my legs and sit back in my chair. Apart from looking like God’s gift to women, Remington was a great guy. With a pang of regret, I thought of the real reason I was here.

  The idea of having to spy on this wonder man so Celeste could compete him out of business bothered me more and more with each passing minute spent in the man’s company.

  Remington leaned forward, and put his hands on his desk. “I think you and I are going to get along like gangbusters,” he said. “High five?”

  “Yup,” I said, forcing myself to smile, and slapped the outstretched palm of his hand. “High five.”

  Chapter 5

  Remington wondered if he should say something or not. He’d noticed the hunted look that had come over this new secretary of his the moment the name Celeste was mentioned. He couldn’t help but wonder if something fishy was going on, and the more he thought about it, the more he was certain there was.

  Of course he’d recognized her the minute he’d seen her waiting for the elevator downstairs. The agency had been so kind as to send him Erin’s picture along with her detailed resume. If her resume looked too good to be true, her picture had looked even better. He’d expected something along the lines of Gladys: the middle-aged, motherly type, and when he saw the stunning young woman smiling back at him from the page, he’d felt a definite stiffening of his cock at the mere sight of her.

  Seeing her in the flesh, she’d looked even better than he’d imagined, and the thought of bedding her hadn’t been far from his thoughts ever since.

  God, she was gorgeous. Petite, flame-haired, cute-faced and drop-dead gorgeous. And those big, hazel eyes. So enchanting. He knew she probably wasn’t everyone’s taste. His older brother Templeton, for example, was more into the buxom type of girl. He’d met Templeton’s fiancée Sarah Brooks at the house last month, and she was exactly that: large-breasted and completely natural. He’d flirted with her, more out of habit than real interest—far be it from him to interfere with his brother’s love life.

  Erin Gould was everything Sarah Brooks wasn’t: she was slender, boyish and pretty much flat-chested from what he could discern through the white blouse she was wearing. Standing next to her in the elevator, he practically couldn’t wait to strip off her clothes and have a peek at the girl beneath. Then later on, when it turned out she wasn’t merely beautiful but smart and funny, it was decided: he just had to have her.

  At least, if she wasn’t a spy working for Celeste Carter, of course.

  He leaned forward, supporting his elbows on the desk, and pursed his lips. “What color lip gloss is that you’re wearing?” he said.

  “Peach,” she said hesitantly.

  “It suits you,” he said. “Brings out the color of your hair. Is that natural, by the way? Your hair I mean?”

  “Yes, it is,” she said, squirming a bit in her seat.

  “I like it,” he said. “Don’t you go and color it now. You look perfect just the way you are.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said with a slight frown.

  He coughed and leaned back, realizing he was way out of line here. “I’m just saying this because,
erm, as my private secretary you’re my main representative to both customers and suppliers, so it’s important that you project the, um, the right image.”

  “I see,” she said skeptically.

  Yep, she wasn’t born yesterday.

  “Personally, I couldn’t care less if you painted your hair blue and wore yellow lipstick,” he added with studied nonchalance.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I have no intention of changing my personal appearance any time soon.”

  “Good,” he said. “Very good. Now if you will follow me? I would like to show you your office and give you a tour of the company.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, and he could see the relief etched on her face. The hard part was over. The job was hers. He wondered what she thought of him. Was she at all attracted to him? He really couldn’t tell. In the elevator he had the impression she kinda liked him, but the moment he’d outed himself as the big boss, she’d changed tack and had totally clamped up and turned all professional on him. Too bad.

  “Oh, there’s one thing I’d like to ask,” she said when he got up.

  He arched an eyebrow. “Yes?”

  She wriggled in her seat again, and looked up at him like a kid about to ask permission to go to the movies. “I have this friend, see. Her name is Tamara Dunkle? She works at Flowers For You—that’s how we met. She’s a really great customer service agent—everyone loves her.” She coughed and squirmed some more in her seat.

  “Yes?” he said, loving the way her cheeks flushed. When she was flustered she looked even more beautiful.

  “Well, the thing is, Tamara is a great admirer of Hearts & Flowers. She’s been following your success story since you opened business. And she would simply love to work here.”

  “Oh?” he said, arching his other eyebrow. He’d walked over to her side of the desk and now leaned casually against it.