No Dreams Allowed: A Billionaire Romance

by Sonora Seldon

  “Ms. Dallstrom, Ms. Hamilton, please follow me.”

  He about-faced and marched away down the hall, we followed him, and I had more questions.

  “So why are we here and what is this place? Also, how does Mr. Personality know my name?”

  “We’re here to pick up your laptop, this is an unofficial government office where they do off-the-book things like install encryption software on laptops full of classified information, and he knows your name because this is the government and they know everything – well, at least they think they do.”

  I decided not to ask why her last few words came out sad, soft, and haunted.

  Everybody’s got secrets, after all.

  Inside an office three doors down from the elevator, a tech support guy – government or private or freelance, they’re the same everywhere – tapped a few last keys on a MacBook Pro with one of those sweet retina displays, and then slid it across the glass table and into our care.

  “Everything’s updated and locked up tight, ma’am – we employed the usual protocols so you should be fine, but you know who to contact if you have any difficulties gaining access or negotiating the system in general.”

  Whoa, multiple words and the trace of a polite smile – this guy was almost human.

  The suits flanking him were not.

  Suit One pulled a manila envelope from an inside pocket and handed it to Kristen. “The documents you requested, Ms. Dallstrom.” He subsided back into silence, crossing his hands in front of him and doing a pretty good imitation of someone who not only hadn’t spoken, but had never even been there in the first place.

  Kristen took his lack of existence in stride. “Excellent, gentlemen – Dallstrom Defense Systems appreciates your office putting a rush on this, and I also give you my personal thanks.”

  Suit Two said, “The documents arrived by courier two hours ago, Ms. Dallstrom, and we are always happy to be of assistance.” He said it while staring at the wall behind us and sounding like he wouldn’t recognize happiness if a dozen strippers served it up to him on their pert little asses.

  Back in the limousine, I learned from Kristen that our next destination was a normal office that admitted to being real, located in one of three downtown buildings owned by our lord and master, Einar Dallstrom. On the way over there, she showed me how to persuade my new laptop I was worthy of accessing its files, although the little digital bastard didn’t surrender to my control without a fight.

  Once I’d wrestled it into submission and changed the five different passwords it insisted on into ones I could remember, a thought occurred to me. “Kristen, what’s on here that needs so much security? And the HD retina display is beautiful and all, but why do I need this thing when I already have my trusty iPhone of the Future?”

  She held up one finger as she finished a call – “I need those figures before tomorrow’s board meeting, so get on it” – but the second that one ended, another demanded her attention – “tell the governor he’ll find a way to free up his schedule for Friday night if he ever wants to see another dime of campaign contributions from us” – and once she’d finished putting Governor Somebody in his place, she sagged back against her seat and stared up at the roof of the limousine.

  “I am going to shoot my father dead with a double-barreled shotgun for saddling me with this craziness. I’ll shoot him, I’ll drag his carcass out into the street for the crows, and then I’ll change my name and move to Bora Bora, or the Seychelles, or maybe Rarotonga. Wherever.”

  “I get to pump a few rounds into him too, okay? You also have to save me a spot on your private beach hideaway afterwards, plus I get my own hot island guy to serve me drinks and apply sunscreen, or it’s no deal.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sorry about venting, but Dad thinks nothing of ordering me to turn over heaven and earth and everything in between for this precious event of his on Friday, with no notice and while I continue doing my regular job for the company, which already keeps me busy for what feels like eight-day weeks with thirty-hour days.”

  Glancing at my laptop, she added, “As for your newest electronic pal, it’s full of proprietary corporate information and associated mid-level intelligence files that are aren’t officially supposed to be in the possession of private individuals, hence the obsessive security.”

  “And I need access to company and government secrets why, exactly?”

  “Because Dave needs that stuff and you’re in charge of Dave – and remember to tell him that his speech is on that laptop and he has to have it memorized by Friday night.”

  “He’s giving a speech?”

  “Yep, live and streamed online, and God help us all if he doesn’t wear an eye-popping suit, so make him do that too. He’ll give a speech Dad’s people wrote for him, he’ll shake hands, he’ll be interviewed, he’ll get photographed with politicians and rock stars, and he’ll have to make nice with business partners and bankers and other financial scum he can’t stand.

  “I guarantee the poor guy will be miserable, and I also guarantee the toughest part of your job on Friday will be keeping him from bolting for the hills. Keep him on time and on point, and if you can also keep him happy – or at least not drowning in despair – I’ll be grateful to you until the end of time.”

  Talk about first-world problems, huh? I could see that being put on display like a well-trained show pony wasn’t Dave’s thing in any way, shape, or form, but geez, how hard could it be to force yourself to attend a big splashy party in your honor? With celebrities and free liquor and food, and probably swarms of beautiful actresses and models …

  Bitches.

  I hate you all in advance, whores. Keep your glamorous paws off my man, or you’ll have way more than hell to pay.

  Kristen left me waiting in the limousine as she entered the glass-and-steel tower that was our next stop. A granite marker looming near the front entrance proclaimed this to be the Operations Management Division of Dallstrom Defense Systems, and no, I still have no idea what they did in there. It involved plastic, though, because Kristen emerged after ten minutes with an envelope that she thrust into my hands as she ducked back into our limo.

  “Those cards represent your life at this company, so protect them like they’re your children.”

  I sorted through the contents of the envelope, and she wasn’t kidding. Keycards, security badges, employee IDs and clearances, a gas card issued by the federal government, a Dallstrom Defense Systems gas card, two routine-looking credit cards also bearing the corporation’s emblem, and … what do you call a card with the standard sixteen numbers but nothing to indicate who issued it? A normal magnetic stripe on the back but no name on the front? A card with no logos or designs or fine print or holograms? A card gleaming so intensely black that light fell into it and couldn’t escape?

  I waved the mystery card at Kristen. “What’s this thing? A backstage pass to Armageddon?”

  Dave’s big sister shrugged an elegant shoulder. “That’s a no-limit credit card good everywhere between here and Alpha Centauri, issued only to family and close friends. Dad has one although he hardly ever uses it, mine is on me at all times, and the last I looked, Dave was using his to prop up a model of the Millennium Falcon he was working on.”

  “So in theory I could buy out Amazon with this?”

  “And Jeff Bezos would deliver it all to your door in person, while somebody in our accounting department paid the bill that you’d never even see.”

  She then passed me the manila envelope she’d been given back at the government office that didn’t officially exist. “And in there you’ll find your new passport, assorted government security clearances, a badge that gets you into the White House, and –”

  “Excuse me? Why would I ever need to get inside the White House?”

  “As it happens, you’ll need to get inside it next week, when Dave has a meeting with the President – and you’ll have to be clamped onto his arm every minute, because my baby bro
ther is severely allergic to politicians. If you let him out of your sight in there for even a second, he’ll make some excuse about having to go find the men’s room or whatever – and the next thing you know, he’ll be calling you and apologizing from six states away.”

  “Kristen, why aren’t you doing this? All this, the publicity and the meetings with political riffraff and the interviews and being shown off as the future of the company? That whole deal? You’re already working yourself to death for your dad, you’re obviously knowledgeable and competent and way more organized than anybody I know – and I’m sure you’d look pretty amazing on magazine covers and TV, because I would kill to be as tall and gorgeous as you. So why Dave? Why not you?”

  Me and my nosy question caught her in the middle of opening her briefcase. She stopped, she stared at me, and then she snapped the briefcase shut again.

  That stare measured and judged. I knew the woman was fond as anything of me already, but I sensed her deciding how much information to share with someone who’d been a stranger only two days ago.

  And I didn’t need to be a mind reader to see the fear hiding behind those ghostly blue eyes. Just what was going on here?

  She sighed and decided to spill a little real information. “Dad was right about none of us having a choice.”

  Her eyes fell away from mine and she talked to her lap.

  “He trusts me with a lot, but Dad trusts no one with everything. I do know more than he realizes, though, and I know he has … understandings with people he can’t turn his back on. There’s a whole network of behind-the-scenes deals and alliances, with groups and individuals who aren’t interested in being public about their association with us. I can only guess at how far it all goes and what’s involved, but I know he’s made commitments that are binding on us beyond the life of any one person.”

  I did not like the sound of that.

  “So he feels he has to secure the future of the company with these people, and I’ve had it thrust in my face more than once that some of these individuals and organizations will never accept a woman as head of Dallstrom Defense Systems.”

  It was my turn to stare, and also to be steaming mad. “Seriously? In the 21st century? You’ve got subhuman morons with balls and no brains saying that having a vagina disqualifies you from being in charge? Point them out, and I’ll introduce those assholes to the business end of my fist.”

  She forced herself to laugh. “I’d like to see that, but … Cassie, there’s more. Even more than the company, Dad wants to protect us, me and Dave … I know you may not believe it and he sure doesn’t show it, but Dad loves us. He loves us, somewhere inside, and he’s set on the idea that he has to keep us safe from certain people – and maybe he’s right and maybe he’s wrong, but he is convinced that if I were to be alone and on top of this company one day, I would not be safe.”

  “And Dave would be?” I was scared to my bones in an instant, scared for all of us.

  She stared out the tinted windows at the world beyond, the world full of shadowy somebodies who apparently wanted to mess with us for no good reason. “Dad thinks Dave can be like him. Dad thinks Dave can keep the wolves at bay by snarling and snapping, by being hard and tough and heartless.”

  Kristen paused and sniffed. “Cassie, I know my brother. I know that Davey is all heart, that he’s sweet and smart, and that he’s as brave as a lion in a way that Dad will never understand – but I also know he doesn’t have it in him to be a monster.”

  She turned back to me. “And I don’t see how we’ll survive without one.”

  13

  “Dave, you have to get UP, as in five minutes ago!”

  Way too late on Tuesday morning, I pounded on the door of my exasperating boyfriend’s bedroom while part of me wondered if we’d make the Vanity Fair interview on time, and a very different part of me wondered if he was naked in there.

  “I don’t deserve the privilege of getting up without lots and lots of discipline, because I’m a very bad boy!”

  I could hear him moving around …

  “If it will get you up and dressed and out the door, I swear I really will paddle your rosy pink ass until you squeal like a little piggie, now MOVE!”

  “Ooh, I knew you were checking out my ass! Promise to wear stiletto heels and a leather bustier while you’re spanking me?”

  My forehead sank against the door. “Yesterday, Kristen said you were smart.”

  “She was lying, I’m a complete idiot.”

  More shuffling and thumping …

  “I’m not buying that story, 4.0 Boy – you’re plenty smart enough to know that if I can’t get you to where you belong on time, I’ll look like a miserable failure and I’ll lose my job babysitting you, and then there will be much agony and wailing and gnashing of teeth. And also, no sex.”

  “Refresh my memory – are you the same Cassie who fell asleep next to me on the couch last night, right as the zombies were swarming the abandoned farmhouse? While I was wondering if I was a sick pervert because those poor actors on Netflix were about to get eaten by the undead horde, and all I could think about was carrying you back to this very room for a long night of bed-breaking sex? You know, the sex we haven’t actually had yet?”

  “Dave?”

  “Talk to me, boss.”

  Was that paper rustling? What was he doing involving paper? Folding an origami dildo?

  “Dave, I was tired. I was stressed. I was worrying that I’d screw up this job, I was in knots wondering if I’d blow my first chance in forever at a relationship, and I totally promise to help you turn that bed in there into a pile of expensive splinters as soon as we get your debutante party on Friday out of the way, all right?”

  “If I have to be a debutante, I demand a formal gown!”

  “I was using the word ‘debutante’ in a figurative manner, goofball –”

  “I’m thinking something in pink and turquoise, with lots of lace and silk and ruffles – but should I go with a neckline that’s high and chaste, or something that plunges right into the basement and shows off these pecs?”

  I pictured the tight muscling of Dave’s chest framed by a V-neckline of embroidered pink silk and I lost it – I slumped giggling against the door and barely managed to blurt out, “Yeah, go for the neckline that displays the goods, you whore!”

  “Okay, but no nipple, understand? A man has to have standards!”

  What time was it by now, and who cared? Not me – I was way too busy leaning into his bedroom door and laughing my ass off. I also never noticed that the sounds of rustling paper had vanished, or that they’d been replaced by echoing footsteps.

  I did pick up on all that when the door suddenly opened and I stumbled into Dave’s arms, though.

  He held me close against his warm body, I thought about all the things a girl could do with that body, and what could it hurt to be a few minutes late to an interview that wasn’t going anywhere?

  I propped my chin against his chest and looked up into his delighted green eyes. “Um, hey there.”

  “Hey yourself.”

  His hands roamed low, riding down over my hips, and the sweatpants he had no business wearing did nothing to hide his interest in skipping the interview altogether.

  Being more than a few minutes late never killed anybody, right? My hands agreed as they explored beneath his unbuttoned silk dress shirt – at least he’d been sort of trying to get into his assigned sexy-as-sin Armani suit – and he murmured at my touch. But when I caught myself starting to reach lower, much lower … I made the command decision to stop.

  My body hated me for it, but too bad.

  “Dave, I want to … well, I don’t want either of us to go do the Vanity Fair thing, but we have to – you’re being interviewed and photographed, and I need to get you there on time and suited up for the occasion. If we don’t do all that, if we …”

  I shook my head and started again, talking to his chest because that was easier than meeting his eyes. “I
think we have to stay focused until after the big event on Friday. I need to prove to everybody that I can do this –”

  He nuzzled my hair and tasted my neck with a gentle kiss. “You don’t need to prove a single thing to anybody.”

  The man kissed further down my neck, and he had to know he was making me crazy. “Not to everybody out there in the world, not to me in here.”

  He nipped my ear in the way that made me shiver from head to toe and everywhere in between, and then he stepped back.

  “Cassie, you can do this – this job, this relationship, this everything. You’re strong, you’re smart, and I need you. I need you in every way, and if the way that involves us breaking that bed in there has to wait until after this nonsense on Friday night is over, then wait we will.”

  He looked down at me with his best wicked smile. “Of course, I promise to be an insufferable ass about it between now and then, but you can handle me – just imagine brandishing a whip and a chair, like you’re a lion tamer and I’m a very naughty lion.”

  “I’m not whipping you, you big goofy pervert –”

  “Please?”

  “No!”

  I looked around him through the open door of his bedroom, desperate to change the subject before we got sidetracked into something kinky actually happening right then and there, something where I was the one tied up and helpless …

  The rest of his suit was thrown across his bed as if he’d been trying to forget about it, and were those blueprints on the bed, stacks and stacks of them?

  Yes, and a long trail of blueprints also marched across the wall, tacked and taped in place here, hanging to the floor there, and trailing everywhere across the bed. The stacks of paper awaiting their turn to go up on the wall almost buried the Armani suit jacket, and I could only hope the matching pants were under there somewhere.

  “So what is all that? Something you were working on for your degree?”