The Stubborn Billionaire (a Muse novel)

by Lexxie Couper

  She rolled the cold bottle against her flushed forehead, the icy condensation sending a shiver through her. Thank God, she was alone in the kitchen. She didn’t think she could handle Zach seeing her like this.

  Instead of James turning up, a bouquet of flowers had been delivered at four p.m., along with a note apologizing for not being able to make their first sitting.

  His no-show had disappointed Sienna more than she wanted to admit.

  Moving from the kitchen, she made her way through the dark warehouse, padding past Zach on silent feet where he slept on the folded-out futon. He’d spent the day sulking around the place, refusing to talk to her about the fight at The Point School, the violin, or enrolling at the local high school. He’d criticized the drawing she’d been working on, pointing out continually that Carrie was fatter than that before Sienna lost her temper and told him to bugger off. He’d ignored her for another two hours before eventually disappearing later in the afternoon.

  When he’d returned—at eleven forty-five p.m.—he’d dropped onto the futon without a word, refusing to offer any explanation of his whereabouts.

  Another sigh escaped Sienna’s lips. She had no answers for her Zach problems.

  And I do for my other problems?

  No. She didn’t.

  Reaching her studio, she pulled aside the heavy curtain used to separate the living areas of her home from her work area. Living in a converted warehouse had been wonderfully bohemian when she’d been by herself. The open-plan arrangement had been ideal for her lifestyle—until Zach’s arrival. The presence of a fifteen-year-old boy meant she could only paint in her underwear—her preferred working attire—while he was at school, but the real difficulty had been separating the different areas of her home so they both had some privacy. Screens and blinds had been suspended around the place to achieve some semblance of rooms. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but they had adapted. Sort of.

  Switching on the light at her drawing table, she selected a charcoal stub from the box of drawing medium by the desk. A clean sheet of rag paper was already laid out on the angled table, waiting for her.

  She closed her eyes, pulled a deep, steadying breath, and rolled her neck. She didn’t want to calm down, just redirect her turbulent emotions, channel that wired energy into the charcoal stick in her hand, and see what happened next.

  Opening her eyes, she stared at the blank paper, waiting to see what came to her.

  “There,” she whispered as a vague image began forming in her mind. The first stroke of charcoal slashed across the virginal white paper. The beginning.

  Two hours later, she dropped into a chair, blinking in surprise at the early-morning sun streaming into her studio. As always, she had become lost in her work, the time slipping away from her. She contemplated what she had created.

  Two figures entwined each other, merging into one in places, fingers and hips fused together. The faces were ambiguous, lacking identity, but the gender of each was undeniable. Here was a man and woman in the throes of sexual ecstasy.

  Sienna threw the charcoal stub to the floor. There was no doubt what had been on her mind as she worked. Or whom.

  God, what was wrong with her?

  She closed her eyes on the sensual drawing, only to be dismayed by the images that filled her head. Images of James doing the most wicked, erotic things to her. She banged her forehead on her knees and squeezed her eyes shut tighter. “You need help, Sienna.”

  “You draw that?”

  At Zach’s sleepy voice, she sat bolt upright.

  He stood beside her, scratching at his hair and squinting at the charcoal drawing.

  “Yes. Couldn’t sleep.” She adjusted her arms around her legs. If Zach realized she was dressed only in a pair of underpants and a tank top—her sleeping attire since he moved in; no more sleeping naked—who knew how he would react? It was such a relief to see him without a scowl on his face she didn’t want to ruin it.

  He tilted his head, studying her work with silent consideration. “’S’good.”

  Sienna smiled, the warmth in her belly from his compliment almost taking her breath away. “Thanks.”

  “Kinda reminds me of my last nanny.”

  A knock on the door saved her from responding.

  Zach turned toward the door, the ever-present scowl returning. “This place is worse than Central Station.” He threw her a quick look before stalking in the direction of the bathroom.

  Sienna sighed. For one brief moment, he’d almost been civil. Uncurling from the chair, she glanced at the wall clock and moved to the door. It was only six thirty. Whoever it was, she was going to have a chat with them about early morning boundaries.

  “Interesting.” James Dyson cocked an eyebrow, a smile curling the corner of his mouth as his gaze surveyed her body. “Do you always answer the door so underdressed?”

  Oh God, she’d answered the door in her underwear. Again. Her hands itched to tug at the hem of the tank top, to check her knickers weren’t skewed. To slam the door in James’s smirking face.

  Christ, how embarrassing.

  I can’t let him see me shaken. I can’t.

  Tilting her chin, she fixed him with an unwavering glare. “What do you want, Mr. Dyson?”

  Those dark brown eyes of his regarded her with indolent suggestion, sending a shiver up her spine. “Are you sure you want to ask such an open question?”

  “You know what I mean.” She wouldn’t run and hide. She wouldn’t. Despite her nipples pinching into rock-hard peaks at the implication of his question. The friction of her shirt’s cotton on the tight tips unsettled her completely. It was too easy to imagine James’s fingers on them instead.

  Or better yet, his tongue.

  Christ, she was in trouble.

  A slow grin stretched his lips. “We have a portrait to create. Xavier’s present.”

  She gripped harder on the door. “Go away.”

  “We’ve already had this conversation. And I received confirmation the day before yesterday that you’ve agreed to the commission.”

  “I’m not ready yet.”

  “I am.”

  Her heart hammered hard against her breastbone. Her skin prickled with flushed heat. A pulse deep in the junction of her thighs constricted. She bit back a groan, her traitorous reaction dismaying her. What was wrong with her?

  James’s gaze caught hers, holding her prisoner, suggesting things with nothing but a simple look.

  Another shiver rippled through her. Her skin grew warmer, her heartbeat doubled.

  Oh God, she had never been so turned on. So ready to make love.

  Love.

  Sienna’s stomach clenched. Her mouth grew dry. Love? Was she kidding? “Have sex” was what she meant. “Fuck.” “Rut like animals.” That was what she meant, not “make love.” There was nothing sweet or romantic about the sexual charge between them. What this was—this hunger burning through her now, the hunger smoldering in James Dyson’s stare—was purely physical. It had to be. Because she loathed him.

  She did. But she couldn’t deny she wanted to have sex with him. She’d have a better chance of denying the sun rose in the east. He was the sexiest man she had ever met and before their identities had become known to each other, their connection had been undeniable. His very presence now made her crave his touch, but she would never make love to him. Making love required an emotional connection, not just a physical one.

  I had an emotional connection with him once before. Six months ago.

  No matter how much she’d tried, denying that didn’t work.

  True, but now it was just lust. Had to be. Masochistic though it may be, the truth was obvious. She was in lust with James Dyson, and lust had nothing to do with love. Sex, however, had everything to do with lust.

  She swallowed, shaking her head a little. Damn it, how could she be in lust with such an arrogant bastard? She licked her lips, her mouth like dust. “I think you have to…to…”

  His smile disappe
ared as her words faltered. Hunger fell over his features. All signs of the relaxed man she’d first opened her door to—gone. In his place stood the arrogant alpha male she’d first met on the cathedral’s steps at Clinton’s funeral. The one who oozed power and control.

  “I know I do, Sienna.” His nostrils flared. “And I will, I promise, but not before I do this.” He stepped toward her, his body brushing hers. Electric charges of pleasure ricocheted through her at the contact.

  She would hate herself later. But she couldn’t stop herself, either. Not when he was so close. So there. So…

  She leaned toward him, the firm pressure of his palm as it smoothed up her back stealing her breath. It cupped the base of her skull, his strong fingers threading through the hair at her nape.

  “This is wrong,” she whispered.

  “I don’t fucking care,” he whispered back.

  She looked up into his eyes, knowing what she would find there. Triumph. She was prepared for it.

  Her heart thumped faster. Unguarded, James’s eyes were soft. Uncertain. Confused.

  A frown flicked over his face. He hesitated for the briefest second, his gaze roaming her face, as if searching for an answer there, before a growl sounded deep in his throat and his mouth claimed hers.

  He knotted his fingers in her hair as his tongue delved into her mouth, savage at first. It was as demanding as their last kiss and it had the same affect on Sienna. Her body began to burn, the heat swelling and building, swelling and building.

  Dragging his hands down her back, he found the curve of her bottom and cupped it firmly. And then, with a low groan, kneaded it with gentle pressure.

  Gentle.

  Sienna’s drugged mind marveled at the realization. There was nothing demanding about the way James held her now, touched her now. His hands were tender. He was caressing her. His lips tasted hers with sensitive hunger. His tongue didn’t invade her mouth, didn’t conquer it, but explored it with reverent worship. He traced the line of her lips, tickling the corners of her mouth with delicate strokes before finding and touching her tongue in a slow dance.

  There was nothing lustful about James’s actions. And Sienna’s body reacted to the sweetness. Flooded with such heightened desire, she feared she would never recover. This was not a seduction, but an equal giving of pleasure. James worshipped her with such tender care Sienna could not stop herself responding in kind. Yet how was she to cope?

  Because if it wasn’t savage, base lust, what was it?

  Trouble. And a heartache in the making.

  As if aware of her tormented thoughts, James lifted his head. “That…” The word escaped him on a ragged breath. Passion laced with uncertainty shone in his eyes.

  Sienna pulled on her bottom lip with her teeth, uncertain about what they had just shared. “That…?”

  He looked back at her, a small frown creasing his forehead. Amazement filled his face and a smile began to stretch his mouth. “That wasn’t what I’d—”

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  Zach’s question cracked the room. She flinched. Heat flooded her cheeks. Damn it, she forgot her brother was there? What kind of person did that?

  Stumbling away from James, face growing hotter, she turned to Zach. Guilt and embarrassment overwhelmed her. “Zach…”

  Zach stood at the parted studio curtain, a large mug in each hand, wisps of steam rising from both. The aromatic smell of coffee filled her nose, and she groaned, her heart twisting. Coffee. Her brother who hated her had made her coffee.

  Could his timing have been any worse?

  Could hers?

  Pulse pounding, she took a step toward him. “Zach—”

  Contempt flashed in his glare. “So do you kiss any wanker that comes knocking?”

  “Zach, that’s—”

  “Shit.” Sienna’s heart twisted more at the confused hurt she saw hidden in his scowl. “I thought it was just a delivery or somethin’ and here you are tongue fucking a—”

  “Zach.” She took another step closer to him. “That’s enough.”

  “Who the hell is this guy?” He jerked his scowl to James. “He doesn’t look like another dead-beat artist. Is this how you’re planning to get the money to pay for the violin? Fucking your way out of debt?”

  At the sound of James moving behind her, she spun to face him. Don’t, she mouthed, holding her hands out, palms forward.

  He stared hard at her, cold fury etching his face.

  Why the hell was he angry? She was the one her brother had just labeled a whore. Did it offend him Zach thought he would need to pay for sex?

  Doesn’t matter. Zach’s pain. Fix it. Now.

  She turned back to Zach, forcing her voice to stay composed. Serene. “Zach, please calm down.”

  He snarled. “Fat naked chicks one day. A porn show the next.” He flicked a glare at James before returning his gaze to her. “Too weird. It’s too fucking weird here.”

  He dropped the mugs, the sound of them shattering on the floor like a gunshot in the tension. She flinched, a soft gasp escaping her.

  Zach’s eyebrows knitted. His bottom lip began to quiver, his eyes shone, and then he stormed away, the studio curtain swinging in his wake.

  She let out a breath. “Shit.”

  Moving to the mugs, she squatted down, collecting the broken pieces of ceramic as she slowly counted to ten. She didn’t stop when James approached. Her nerves were too frayed. “Please go.” Plucking another shard of ceramic from the puddle of hot coffee on the floor, she shook her head. “I don’t want you here. It’s not good.”

  He didn’t move or say a word. His stare prickled her back. It made her want to scream. And throw herself into his arms.

  “Go,” she said again, louder this time. She desperately needed time to think. She couldn’t deal with everything until she had time to think. Until she considered what had just passed between them. She’d been able to accept that they were in lust with each other, but that kiss? It had nothing to do with lust.

  And poor Zach. What was she going to do about Zach? What was she going to tell him about James? There was no answer she could give him that wouldn’t have her sounding like a slut.

  Hey, Zach, I lived with James’s younger brother, but then he committed suicide because I wouldn’t marry him. And this is only the fourth time James and I have met. We don’t even like each other, but whenever he touches me, I melt.

  Shame flooded through her. She dropped her burning face into her hands. “Please go, Mr. Dyson.”

  Silence stretched through the studio, charging the air. “I can help.”

  “I don’t want your help. I want you to go.”

  She didn’t raise her head at the sound of his feet on the floor behind her.

  At the sound of the door closing, she let out a sigh.

  Damn it, when had her life become so confusing? So messed up?

  Finishing with the broken mugs, she wiped the spilled coffee from the floor, washed her hands in the studio sink, and then went to find Zach. She still had no idea what to say, but she needed to tell him something.

  “Zach?” His name echoed through the silence of her home. “Zach, we need to talk.”

  “Go away,” a muffled voice called from the bathroom, the only room in her home with walls and a door. Of course that’s where he would go. He was trying to shut her out.

  She rapped her knuckles on the door with a gentle tap. “Can I come in?”

  “No.”

  She sighed, gnawed on her lip and then her thumbnail. What should she do?

  “Zach, why are you angry with me?”

  Silence.

  She leaned against the door and slid to the floor. Dragging her fingers through her hair, she closed her eyes. He would have to come out eventually, so she would wait.

  And think.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this guy?” Zach’s question came from the other side of the door.

  A wan smile played with her lips. “There’s no
thing to tell.”

  “Didn’t look like nothin’ to me,” came the muffled reply. “Is he your boyfriend?”

  “I…not really.” God, how did she explain this to a fifteen-year-old? She chewed on her lip again. How did she explain it to herself? “It’s complicated.”

  But it shouldn’t be. She had to get the situation straight before she next saw James. She couldn’t just let the man come into her home and affect her the way he did without some idea of what was going on. There was something more than carnal lust and hunger between her and the media mogul—only a moron would try to refute that. Perhaps something that surprised even James. But that was no excuse to just let her hormones take charge of her brain and allow her to do something she would regret later. Not, at least, without some serious consideration.

  A soft laugh left her lips, humorless and dry. Regardless of what this…this thing was between them, she wanted to have sex with him. She had never been as attracted to anyone as she was him, nor as excited. Nor did she have any doubt in her mind she would sleep with him. But if she was going to do something she would later regret—and regret with every fiber and molecule of her body, she feared—it had to be on her terms. James Dyson may be some all-powerful demi-god, but he would discover that she was not so easily controlled.

  She was one conquest he’d have to work extremely hard for.

  Her heart thumped hard in her chest. Wait. What was she thinking? Had she really just decided to go for it? To throw herself into a sexual relationship with the bastard?

  Had she lost her freaking mind?

  The door behind her opened and she tumbled back into empty space, shouting in shock as her head smacked against the bare wooden floor.

  “Ow.” She squinted up at Zach where he stood looking down at her. “That hurt.”

  He frowned, torment on his face. “I hate being kept in the dark like I’m a baby. Mum and Dad never told me anything. I didn’t know Dad had been arrested until Ricco told me on Snapchat. I didn’t even know Mum was dead until I read it on Facebook.”