Temptation: a billionaire erotic romance

by Christine Elliott

  Serena thrashed wildly against him, trying desperately to remember any self-defense maneuvers she may have learned while watching Val train in his exercise room. In a fleeting moment, Jacques’ grip on her arms slipped, letting her hand free. She took the opportunity as quickly as she could, doing the only thing she knew to do. She brought the heel of her hand sharply up against Jacques’ nose and heard a sickening crunch.

  Jacques shrieked, his nose exploding with blood. He let go of the gun and his grip on Serena, shoving her back to the wall and bringing his hands up to his face. He clawed against his face, the blood rolling violently in a flood of red.

  Serena scrambled away from him, grabbing the gun so that he couldn’t snatch it at the next moment. She threw it under the cabinet to their right only a half a second before Jacques turned on her again.

  “You cunt!” he roared. The doctor voice was gone, replaced by a seething, burning rage. Jacques swung a kick into her abdomen. It connected with her stomach, and she felt her mind explode in pain.

  The air was knocked out of her, and Serena fell back, unable to breath. She heaved, one hand reaching up into the air as if she could snatch it from the ceiling and pull it into her lungs.

  “I knew I should have destroyed you,” Jacques raged. He spat the blood that was pooling his mouth on her. “I was going to let you go easy, I was going to shoot you. But now you’ve brought this on yourself, Serena. You had to go and be difficult.”

  Jacques paused, his glare furious and burning as it settled on her. Then his smile grew large and twisted.

  “So, bitch,” he seethed. “You want to be with your master? You want to go like him, too?” He began walking backward,. “You really are something, Serena. I think I can honor that final wish. But just for you, sweetie.”

  He backed out of the room, slamming the door shut and locking it. Serena heard his footsteps disappear for a moment down the hall, then turn a corner. There was a moment of silence, and then the sound of him ripping something from the wall.

  Something metal screeched as it was twisted and cracked away from the wall, a sickening sound that reminded Serena of a monster devouring its prey.

  Serena scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding. But she was full of a new bravery. Because she knew something that Jacques didn’t, and because she had something he had forgot. She retrieved it in a flash, only an instant before Jacques unlocked the heavy door and stalked in.

  He appeared under the light, dragging something metal behind him. Serena looked up, swallowing hard against the pain that racked her whole body.

  “You want to be like your master?” Jacques spat, pulling it up. It was a led pipe, rusted over and torn from the wall. “Then you’ll be treated like him.”

  Serena backed away, her leg limping. She must have done something—twisted her ankle, or maybe broken it. She winced as he backed her against the wall, gathering her strength.

  “You forgot something,” Serena gasped as he stalked towards her, his eyes on fire.

  “Yes,” he hissed, “I was an idiot, forgetting to kill you when I had the chance. But I don’t make the same mistake twice.” He reached down, snatching the lead pipe from the ground and swinging it around so that it rested on his shoulder. “You should have run when I let you,” he seethed.

  “No,” Serena said, reaching into her coat.

  With the last of her strength, she pulled her hand out from her coat, revealing only the glint of metal in her clutched fist. Jacques began to growl something but stopped in his tracks, horrified as the realization dawned on him. He stood stone still, frozen in the middle of the room, as Serena stood up.

  “You forgot to take the gun when you left,” Serena rasped, shooting him through the heart.

  *****

  Three weeks later, Serena sat in the reception room of the mansion, sharing a couch with Ellen and a few of the Marquette lawyers. Val may have hated journalists and tabloids, but with his being unconscious, there wasn’t much he could do about it. The last month had been dedicated to endless interviews and hiding from cameras. No one was quite sure who Serena was, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to let them print her name next to the title ‘sex slave.’ So Ellen set her up with a nice backstory: the childhood friend turned love interest and confidant, the only person close enough to Val to suspect something was wrong and save him.

  “So they don’t suspect a thing about what we really are?” she asked Ellen one day. “They’re not going to interview his real family or real friends? Or try to hunt down my family?”

  “Of course they aren’t,” said Ellen blithely. “We paid them far too much, and Mr. Marquette doesn’t have much in the way of friends and family. Jacques was the closest—” She cut herself off, frowning. “But either way, this is a much better story. Long lost childhood love turned white knight? They’ll eat that up. That’s a story that will sell papers, I’ll tell you that. That’s all that matters to them.”

  A crowd of cameras and journalists with pen and notepad in hand surrounded them. The lawyers were fielding questions as Serena and Ellen sat for pictures, dutifully playing the part of Valentine Marquette’s two saviors. Serena had taken more pictures in the last three weeks than she had in her entire life.

  “Ms. Nicoletti,” called one journalist. “How do you feel about the rescue of your brother, Henry Nicoletti?”

  Serena swallowed hard. Ellen had done a good job on that one too. No longer was Harry an idiot who had lost a shipment of cocaine and got himself imprisoned, making his sister do all kinds of fool plans to save him. Now he was the virtuous boy next door taken as a hostage to manipulate Val’s one true love.

  (He had also been a childhood friend of Val’s, according to Ellen’s spin. She was far too good at this.)

  “I’m very happy,” Serena said. At least that was true. One truth in the sea of lies that had been this whole last month.

  “And Mrs. Proctor?” asked one journalist, turning to Ellen. “How do you think this will affect Marquette Industries?”

  One of the lawyers attempted to dive in, but Ellen waved him off. “I’m glad to say the business is doing very well,” she chirped. “But I think what we really need to focus on here is the human story, hm? Mr. Marquette was betrayed by his best friend and closest business associate, and if it hadn’t been for the work of Ms. Nicoletti and her brother, I really doubt he’d still be here with us.”

  Another round of camera flashes went off. Serena shrunk in her seat, still unused to them.

  “How do you feel about the arrest of Ian Harlow?” asked one of them. Serena began to say something about how she hoped he rotted in a cell for the rest of his life, but Ellen and the lawyers jumped it. Ellen said something diplomatic about knowing he would receive his due process and that she trusted the justice system. The lawyers said that Mr. Marquette was not going to comment on that at this time.

  “And the death of Jacques Lepin?”

  “We are not commenting on Mr. Lepin at this time,” Ellen said through a tight, fake smile. She touched Serena’s shoulder warmly, but with a strength that let her know she was just about fed up with the endless interviews. “I think it’s nearly noon. May we take a short break? I need to check up on Mr. Marquette, and I believe Ms. Nicoletti would like to see if her brother is doing well. Is that alright?”

  “Of course,” mumbled one of the journalists. The bodyguards began corralling them away, leaving Ellen and Serena to themselves to unhook the microphones clipped to their collars.

  “Vultures,” Ellen grumbled once they were out of earshot.

  “How many more of these do we have to do?” said Serena.

  Ellen sighed. “They never really stop.”

  “Ms. Nicoletti?” asked one of the doctors, approaching out of the hall. He was dressed in a clean white coat, one of Val’s personal legion of doctors that Serena became immensely thankful for when she arrived home with the wounded Val and Harry. “Your brother is ready to see you now.”

  “Th
ank you,” Serena murmured, standing up from her seat.

  Ellen squeezed her shoulder again. “I’ll check up on Val,” she said warmly. “Make sure Harry is alright.”

  Harry was staying in one of the spare bedrooms on the first floor, a few hallways away from the reception room. Serena followed the trail of doctors and aids who were attending him, making sure that no journalists were following her. The door was guarded by two body guards on loan from Val and ordered around by Ellen. They stepped aside momentarily to let Serena through. She paused.

  “Is he alright?” she asked one of the guards.

  The guard smiled at her. “Yes, miss.”

  She gave a sigh of relief and opened the door.

  “Harry? Are you awake?”

  Harry turned from his place in the bed, covered in a mountain of pillows and sheets, and Serena’s face broke out into a smile. “Hey, Serena,” he called. “Look at this place, I feel rich. We’re like royalty or something.”

  Serena laughed as she walked in. “Not quite. Or at least, not as much as you’d wish. We’ve just got this place on loan until my boss wakes up, so don’t get too comfortable.”

  “Lame,” Harry moaned, tossing aside a newspaper he had been reading. Serena took a seat by his head and glanced over at his seat in bed, surrounded by piles of newspapers. Each of them had some kind of headline about the Marquette Case (as they were calling it). Pictures of Harry, Serena, Val, and Ellen were plastered over all of them—Ellen marching into a hospital with Jacques’ body in tow, Harry being pulled out of the warehouse covered in bruises, police flooding the building and pulling out Harlow in cuffs.

  The most famous, the one in nearly every paper, was the one of Serena pulling out Val’s unconscious body from the rubble. All of them had some kind of heroic title above it, something that made Serena supremely uncomfortable. She wasn’t a hero, she was a woman in love, and there was never any choice about saving Val. It was just something she had to do. She couldn’t live without him—she realized that now.

  “So where’s your boyfriend?” asked Harry.

  “My boss is still asleep,” said Serena, flicking his forehead with a finger playfully. “Don’t you dare harass him.”

  “You really like this guy, then?”

  Serena shrugged silently.

  Harry gave her his playful smile, one that had been plastered over every newspaper in the country. Luckily, he was much more charming and photogenic than Serena, meaning when Ellen needed to make her and her brother friendlier to the public, she just had to smash Harry into the story. Harry could charm anyone, and he ensured public opinion was kept securely on their side, much to Ellen’s delight. Serena had even heard that he had a fan club on some websites.

  “Look, all I’m saying is that you ran like an idiot into a warehouse full of gangsters to save him,” said Harry. “You’re either in love or stalkerishly obsessed.”

  “I went in there for you.”

  “Right.”

  “At least partially,” she teased. “It was, like, seventeen percent for you.”

  Harry glared at her, but couldn’t hold his expression for long. He laughed and laid his head back.

  “You have no idea how glad I am to be out, Serena,” he said, staring up at the chandelier. “No idea at all.” He turned his head to her. “Make sure you tell that Mark-up guy I’m thankful, okay? For getting me here, for getting you here, for everything.”

  “His name is Marquette.”

  “Whatever. The point is, he’s a good guy, at least in my book. And if you want to have a thing with him, I’m cool with it.”

  “As if I needed your permission.”

  He puffed up his chest. “We’re family. We’re supposed to take care of each other. That includes making sure we don’t date crazy people, probably.”

  “And you don’t think a reclusive billionaire is crazy?”

  “I mean, he’s a reclusive billionaire with a sweet house,” Harry said with a shrug, sipping on a glass of water. “You could do worse.”

  Serena snorted, and Harry smiled.

  “No, I mean it,” he said. “I’m glad you’re with him. I don’t really get what you have with him, but he’s a good guy. He saved me, Serena, and he did it for you even though he knew how dangerous it would be. And considering you saved him, I’m going to go on a limb here and say you care for him too. That’s not something you get every day.”

  “Since when did you become a philosopher?”

  “Since I worked for a gang, became a hostage, was used as a pawn for my sister’s boyfriend, and nearly died.”

  “So you’ve learned your lesson about getting involved in gangs?” she teased.

  “Trust me,” Harry mumbled, resting his head on a pillow. “I’ve learned that like a motherfucker.”

  Serena watched him doze off, her heart growing warm. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was at home. She was with the people she loved, and she was safe, and nothing could hurt her again. Isn’t that what home was?

  There was a knock at the door.

  “I’m not taking any interviews right now,” Serena called, irritated. She was starting to think Ellen was right about the journalists being vultures thing.

  There was a warm chuckle from the other side. “Good,” said Ellen’s voice, “because I’m not either. But I need to tell you something about Mr. Marquette, when you’re ready.”

  “Oh, Ellen,” she sighed in relief. “Hold on a second, I’ll be there in a moment.” She leaned down and patted Harry’s head, watching him drift off into sleep. For once in her life, she was glad to see Harry crashing at her place. He ran a hand through his hair one more time, glad to see him with her for the first time in months, and then left to see Ellen in the hallway. She closed the door gently, careful not to wake Harry.

  “Is he alright?” asked Ellen softly.

  “Yes. He’s wonderful. I really can’t thank you enough for letting him stay here.”

  Ellen chuckled again. “He’s always welcome. This isn’t just our home anymore, Serena. It’s yours too.”

  Serena smiled. “You still didn’t have to, though.”

  “You saved Val,” Ellen said simply, shrugging. “He may be my boss, but he’s also my friend, in a way. Just because he’s my master doesn’t mean we can’t care for each other.” She grinned. “I’m sure you can understand the sentiment. And I’m sure you’ll understand how glad I am that he’s safe. I’d do you anything for him. And for you. For you both.”

  “Thank you, Ellen,” Serena said. She paused, considering what she was about to do. Then she threw herself at Ellen for a hug, wrapping her in her arms. Ellen froze up for a moment, shocked. After a second of thought, she wrapped her arms around her and hugged Serena back.

  “You’re welcome, Ms. Nicoletti,” Ellen answered, true emotion bleeding through into her voice. “But I think I should remind you, I’m here to tell you about Mr. Marquette.”

  “Of course,” Serena said, pulling back. “He’s alright?”

  “Yes, Ms. Nicoletti. And he’s awake.” Ellen smiled at her. “The first thing he did was ask to see you.”

  *****

  Serena hesitated at the door to Val’s bedroom. Was she really ready to do this? It was easy enough talking about what happened to the journalists, since they’d never know what really happened, and they weren’t involved. But to face what had happened with Val? And what they had said to each other? At least with Ellen she knew where she stood. She was never sure how Val would react to something, and while she could never be afraid of him, she was still wary.

  And God, what about when he heard about Ellen’s ‘childhood friend and lover’ story? She’d die of embarrassment.

  One of the doctors passed by and noticed her wavering by the door. The doctor smiled at her, tapping her clipboard with a pen. “Do you need it unlocked, Ms. Nicoletti?”

  “Yes,” Serena answered, decisive. “I need to see him.”

  The doctor unlocked
it for her, and Serena took a step into the room and into her fate.

  “Val,” she called into the room softly. It was still strange to call him by his first name, even after all that had happened.

  “Serena,” she heard a voice croak. “Come here.”

  Serena closed the door and walked into the dim room. Val was laying on his bed, propped up with pillows, his face sallow. He was obviously still seek and wore every day he had spent unconscious in bed on his sunken face, but just to see him conscious made Serena happier than she could ever have been. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I’m glad to see you awake.”

  “I’m glad to see you at all,” he answered. “Here, sit by me. We need to talk.”

  Serena took a seat and waited, biting her lower lip. Val sat up, rubbing one of his bruised arms. “They say I’ve been out for three weeks.”

  “Too bad you didn’t stay asleep a little longer,” mumbled Serena. “You could have made it a month. Might have gotten a World Record or something.”

  Val grinned. “Funny, but I think we need to talk about something more pressing at the moment.” His expression sobered. “You did something amazing for me, Serena.”

  She shrugged, lowering her gaze. “You already did so much for me. Finding Harry, getting him here to trade for, even risking your life. What I did was nothing compared to all that.”

  “No, stop. Don’t pretend like what you did wasn’t amazing,” Val ordered. “I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you.”

  “You wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me,” Serena pointed out.

  “Oh please, I’d just be dead sooner if it wasn’t for you. If you hadn’t been around me, watching over me, Jacques would have been able to kill me in a second. And I would have trusted him the whole way through.” He frowned. “I don’t think you realize just how important you are, Serena. Or how brave.”

  Serena stayed silent, keeping her eyes down. Val looked so vulnerable in his bed, wiped out from all that had happened. It would break Ellen’s heart to see him so weak. It was breaking her heart right now.