No Dreams Allowed: A Billionaire Romance

by Sonora Seldon

  Dave spoke. His voice was quiet and considered, his tone was calm, and enough anger hid behind his words to torch a city.

  “Cassie, hand me my iPhone, please.”

  I snatched up my bag and dug into it, praying the phone hadn’t broken when I’d walloped Hungary’s leading asshole in the head. It turned out to be undamaged, and I pressed it into Dave’s hand.

  He made the call and he didn’t look at me. He stared straight at Szörnyeteg, and his eyes were ice.

  “Hello, Sis. I want the factories in Poznań and Belogorsk shut down. Put everything else on hold and get this done today – I know, this was scheduled for next month, but now it has to be today. Shut them down, disable or destroy the equipment, and burn all the finished product they have on hand.”

  A brief pause.

  “The smoke would be toxic? Great, then ship it to Budapest, pile it in the street in front of Szörnyeteg’s bank, and burn it there.”

  Another pause, and a laugh that had no humor in it. “Fine, then just bury or dump it – he’ll be uncomfortable enough as it is explaining to his partners in crime just how royally he screwed up today. Yes, I’ll tell you all about it when we get home. Later.”

  He handed the phone back to me, his eyes still locked on Szörnyeteg. “I never crossed a line, I never made a deal with the devil, and I am not my father.”

  “That is certainly true. Einar Dallstrom was a survivor above all, but you? You are kind and soft, and no one survives in this way.”

  “I just might surprise you.”

  Gregor Szörnyeteg sighed. “Nothing surprises me, David Dallstrom. All of this has happened before, it will happen again, and it never changes, truly. Children dream, women love, and we all die.”

  And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

  24

  The flight home to Chicago lasted fifteen hours and my body was not happy about it. I wanted to stretch out in the master bedroom that filled the rear half of the fuselage and snooze all the way home, but sleep was out of the question – zipping back and forth across all those time zones had played all kinds of hell with my internal clock, leaving me exhausted but wide awake.

  I paced up and down the lushly appointed cabin of the Gulfstream, peering out the windows at clouds and sun and desert and cities and ocean, and trying not to think about cryptic comments made by sketchy Hungarian bankers.

  I ate popcorn and watched the one and only original black-and-white 1968 classic “Night of the Living Dead,” because all other zombie movies are only pale imitations of its awesomeness. I decided that colorized versions were an insult to human decency, and also that the people from Pyongyang Dave had met with were probably not from the Pyongyang that’s in North Korea.

  I showered, I fought my hair to a draw, and I looked at my reflection in the mirror while wondering what Dallstrom Defense Systems made at those factories in Poznań and Belogorsk.

  I went online to look up some of the people I’d known back home in Kansas. I discovered that Shana was on her third boyfriend since I’d left, and from there I wandered onto Interpol’s website and found out that Dave’s friend Sergei was wanted for, among many other things, blowing up the Mexican embassy in the Netherlands.

  I never thought my bar would find itself in such exalted international company.

  Sleep refused to come no matter what, I had questions but didn’t want to know the answers, and one of the two flight attendants riding with us said we were out of bacon.

  Dammit, this situation needed a beer.

  I liberated a bottle of Anchor Steam from the refrigerator in the galley, popped the cap, and thumped down onto a leather couch next to Dave. Hunched forward with a Playstation 4 controller clutched in his hands, he glanced over at me with a grin and nodded at the 42-inch HD screen mounted on the front wall of the cabin.

  “Check out this hidden level in Warslayer Dominion III – if you push the R1 button and the L2 button at the same time, nudge this joystick a dab to the left, and then kill the orc lord with a flamethrower, a passageway opens up that takes you to an underground sex club for elves. Want to try it out?”

  “Nah, elves never respect you in the morning.” I took a swig of my beer and then held the bottle out to Dave. “Want a taste of San Francisco’s finest?”

  He shook his head, eyes back on the screen. “No thanks, I need to find out if these elf girls are into threesomes.”

  I downed another swallow of frosty goodness and the truth slipped out of my mouth without a moment’s warning. “Dave, I trust you.”

  “With sex-crazed elf whores? Wow, you are a good sport –”

  “You know what I mean. Whatever was going on back there in Dubai, I trust you.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  His voice fell flat and hopeless. We listened to the rumbling hum of the jet’s engines and the squealing of various slutty elves for a few minutes. Then he shut off the game, tossed away the controller, and leaned back against the couch.

  “I don’t deserve your trust and I know you deserve better than me, I’m –”

  I clinked the bottle of Anchor Steam onto the glass table in front of us, next to Dave’s discarded controller. “You’re not your father.”

  I scooted over until my hip touched his. I leaned my head against his arm. I held his right hand in both of mine, and I looked down at our intertwined fingers.

  “I don’t know what kind of dirty deals your dad made. I don’t know who he made them with, or why, and I don’t know how many people he hurt. I don’t need to know any of that.”

  Dave shuddered, and I leaned into him harder. “Cassie, he –”

  “He, as in not you. You, as in his son who had no voice or vote in what he was doing, his son who tried to get away from all the insanity and only got dragged back into it because of me. You, as in the man I love, no matter how nutty you are. You, as in the man I trust to make all this right.”

  “They won’t make it easy. They’ll fight. Szörnyeteg and all the others, they’ll –”

  “They’ll suck it up and deal with it. You’re burning down their dirty little house of secrets and walking away, and there’s jack shit they can do about it.”

  I nestled up closer. “Oh, and I think they’re also jealous of your extreme manly hotness.”

  “I think they’re crying into their pillows at night because I have you.”

  “Which you totally wouldn’t if you’d just known how to change a tire, you big helpless baby.”

  “Ooh, it sounds like I’ve been a bad baby, you need to –”

  I needed to shut him up with a kiss, so I did that thing. When we came up for air, I said that the first one into our flying carpet’s bedroom got to demand the filthy perversion of their choice – and yes, I made sure I lost that race.

  The instant the bedroom door clicked shut behind us, Dave stood with his back to it, arms crossed and a triumphant smile on his face.

  “I won and you owe me.”

  I backed away until my legs hit the bed and I sat down with an abrupt thump. My breasts rose and fell as I breathed deep, wanting his touch and wondering what I’d have to do to earn it. I’d lost the sprint to the bedroom fair and square, after all.

  “I guess I was slow off the mark, huh?”

  “Oh, you wanted to lose.”

  “Guilty as charged, so what –”

  “Stand up.”

  I stood in a single breath. What would he –

  “Strip.”

  Okay, I could do this. His strong hands were usually the ones easing my clothes free of my body, peeling them away layer by layer until I was naked and trembling, but now it was my turn and I got undressed every day, right? Piece of cake.

  His eyes roamed over the roomy, down-to-my-knees t-shirt I’d put on after my shower, watching every movement as I tugged the shirt up and over my head, until only my bra was between my breasts and his hands.

  “Dave, I –”

  “Pants next, or I’ll go back a
nd see if I can get lucky with a horny elf.”

  “So when are you getting undressed?”

  “Who said I was?”

  “But why –”

  “Ding, penalty assessed for too much talking, now you’ll have to strip and also get tied up.”

  Legs forced apart and tied down, open to him and helpless and so wet … I had to say something, anything, before he really did it and I found out how much more I wanted him to do. “But I just –”

  He grinned like a gorgeous demon, naughty and unstoppable. “I’m begging you, please keep talking so you can find out what the next penalty is.”

  I shut up. I shut up, I eased my pants down over my hips and to the floor, I kicked said pants away with my bare feet, and I didn’t wait for the next instructions.

  My fingers slipped inside the teal silk of my panties, sliding the fabric over my thighs and down, and maybe I did reach between my legs and give Dave a show, but it was worth it to see the sudden heat in his eyes.

  And when I also rubbed my hands in slow, teasing circles over my ass because it seemed like the thing to do, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and did a terrible job of hiding how much his body loved that idea.

  Now only my bra kept me from his touch.

  One strap slipped down my arm, then the other strap shifted off my shoulder and I hesitated, waiting, taking a deep breath. My breasts were heavy and warm, my nipples stiff against the lace and silk, and then I unfastened the hooks of the bra and pulled it away.

  Cool recirculated air sent goose bumps racing over my bare stomach and round hips, my breasts hung full and free, and Dave stared. He bit his lip, his breath came faster, and I felt his long, hungry stare on my skin and in the wet longing between my legs.

  No one had ever wanted me the way this man did. No one had ever spoken to my heart as well as my body before, not once. Just my Dave. And why? What was I, other than a mouthy big girl who’d never had the chance to do much more than survive and get through to the next day, hoping for another day after that? What did he see, really see, when he looked at me? Why did he want me?

  He pushed off the door and walked toward me. His eyes rose to meet mine. “You’re the only one, you know. Ever.”

  “Dave, you were so not a monk before we met. Remember the two Victoria’s Secret models, and the –”

  “No one ever looked at me the way you do. I don’t think anyone else even saw the real me, whoever that is. No woman ever listened to me before, really listened, and liked me even when I was being weird or impossible. Nobody ever understood my dream. Just you.”

  He swept me up and held me, his powerful arms pinning me against his body as my feet left the floor. I held him right back, my face buried in his shoulder as he murmured into my hair.

  “Stay with me, Cassie, please. Don’t ever leave me. No matter what happens, no matter how scary things get, don’t leave me. I can’t make things right without you.”

  He trembled against me and why? Why was he so scared?

  “My Dave should know by now that his Cassie is not going anywhere – you need somebody to make you toe the line and uphold the honor of the rebellion, and I am that girl. Also, me and my freckles love you, you idiot – weren’t you clear on that?”

  My feet touched back down to the floor, and Dave took my face in his hands and kissed me. When he pulled away after a few breathless minutes that left my lips swollen and my heart racing, he was smiling.

  “I love you, Cassie – even though I’m pretty sure you’ve been holding out on me in the freckles department.”

  “Excuse me? I’m absolutely certain you’ve been over every last inch of my round and awesome body in our time together, so unless I’ve got a few freckles hiding up in my hoo-hah that I don’t know about, you’ve seen all of them.”

  “Maybe you’ve grown some more. I really should check.”

  “If you think for one second that I’m going to let anybody check me over for freckles who isn’t naked, you are out of your mind.”

  His clothes joined mine on the floor in record time.

  We came together on the bed and the rest of the world fell away.

  I nestled into the silk and satin sheets, pulling my legs together at first, playing shy – then Dave spread my knees apart with his strong hands, opening me. Moving between my legs, he trailed kisses up my inner thighs. A lick here, a gentle nip there, the rasp of his beard stubble against my tender skin, and then his warm breath was on my wetness and need.

  Nothing existed but what he was doing and what I was feeling. We needed nothing else. I ached for his touch and he eased my folds apart, fingers gentle but insisting on more, taking more. When his tongue licked over my wetness and probed inside, I trembled; when he took my clit between his lips and sucked hard, I cried out his name as my hands fisted in the sheets.

  This man between my legs was all I knew and all I had and all I needed.

  I tried to tell him as he explored up my body, as his hands roamed over my curves, as his lips brushed the gentle swell of my stomach and when he licked between my breasts. I took his face between my hands and I tried to tell him as he took my mouth with his.

  His hands seized my shoulders. He sucked my lower lip between his teeth and bit down just enough to hurt, and then his mouth left mine and his voice breathed into my ear.

  “I know. You’re all I have too, please don’t leave me. Please stay.”

  I wasn’t going anywhere. Why would he even think I could do that to him? I tried to tell him that with my hands and my heart and my body, he pressed kisses down my neck, and then I tangled my fingers in his hair and pulled his mouth to my breast.

  He sucked my right nipple, and at first he was gentle. His wet, rough tongue worked over the sensitive tip, his lips warm against the tender skin. He pleasured me with his mouth as his hand cupped my other breast and teased at the hard nipple, I moaned beneath him, and then he stopped being gentle.

  Something drove him, something more than I understood. His mouth closed warm and wet and hungry on my right breast and he suckled hard, pulling my aching nipple deep into his mouth as his hips rocked against me.

  Tears leaked from my eyes and I didn’t recognize my own voice. “Please, I need you inside me, I need you right now –”

  He needed me just as much. The velvet strength of his cock straining against my leg told me that, and the pounding of his heart, and the sweat dripping from his chest. I opened my legs wide to him, his need found the wetness between my thighs, and he slid into me with a groan.

  I clung to him and cried.

  He thrust hard into me, again and again, forging deep, and I wrapped myself around him and held on. The pounding beat of our bodies sliding together carried me away and I lost myself in him, in the feeling of his cock rocking back and forth inside me, forcing me wider with each thrust, taking both of us deeper with every breath.

  He sank his teeth into my shoulder. I sliced my nails down his back. Arousal pulsed through every nerve, riding higher and higher by the second. I sobbed against his shoulder, he murmured my name as he reached between us, and when he rubbed one wet finger over my clit, I shattered beneath him.

  Release flashed through me like a summer thunderstorm. White-hot and endless, it pulsed through my body again and again, taking more from me each time, until Dave thrust hard and deep and gave me his need with a final shuddering gasp.

  I ached everywhere as I sank back against the sheets. I’d never felt so exhausted and alive. Dave rode me with the weight of his body as a brief eddy of turbulence made the Gulfstream dip and shimmy beneath us, but I wouldn’t have cared if the plane had flipped upside down and danced a jig.

  He knew me so well, every curve and soft valley and tender secret place, but every time it was new between us. How did he do that? How did I do that?

  How could two people be one person so perfectly, as if they’d been made for each other from day one? I didn’t know.
I only knew I loved him.

  There was one thing, though.

  “Dave?”

  “Questions, questions.” He whispered the words into my hair as he rested on top of me, impossibly heavy, breathing weary and happy.

  “Dave, you forgot to tie me up.

  “Sorry, boss. Next time, all right?”

  Life was perfect for the rest of the flight.

  Life was perfect as the Gulfstream touched down in the sunshine of a postcard-beautiful Chicago summer day. Life was perfect as we taxied off the runway and rolled to a stop fifty feet from the waiting Dallstrom Defense Systems limousine. Life was perfect as we trotted down the plane’s steps and waved to Kristen, who stood leaning against the limo. Life was perfect as she waved back at us, smiling at me and sticking her tongue out at her brother while making a silly face and following it up with an obscene gesture, because why not? Life was perfect.

  Life was perfect, and then my left foot touched the ground.

  ***

  Dad sent me to live with Sergei when I was fourteen. Dad said it was just for the summer and that it would be “a real eye-opener.” Kristen was suspicious and worried and afraid for me, but after Mom’s death and losing Carson too, I couldn’t bring myself to care what it was about. So I went.

  I learned a lot of things that summer. Sergei’s sister showed me how to cook potato stew and his nephew Anton taught me the basics of wiring bombs. I learned to speak a broken and thickly accented version of the local dialect, and I learned how life and death and my father could warp an idealistic young guy who dreamed of revolution and justice into the most wanted terrorist in the world.

  Sergei was never a big talker, not even back then, but he talked to me. He explained the philosophy of Marcus Aurelius and he showed me how to field strip and clean an AK-47. He demonstrated his choke-hold for me on a captured Russian soldier no one ever saw again and he taught me how to find my way home by the stars. One night by the woodstove in his kitchen, I helped him bottle-feed an orphaned lamb while we talked about anarchist theory, and the next day he showed me what hollow-point ammunition does to flesh and bone when he put a bullet through the brain of a local mayor who had taken money to inform on him.