Melody Anne's Billionaire Universe: Controlling the Billionaire (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Billionaire Communication Book 1)

by Fifi Flowers

  Ready to go after I applied some makeup, I decided to try out a bar and grill that was within walking distance. I planned to have a few too many somethings. Seeing a bunch of people waiting, I bypassed putting my name in and went straight into the bar. Alone, it was easy to find a solo barstool and there was one that had my name on it.

  Not much of a drinker but not in the mood for wine, I relied on the bartender who happened to be pretty damn cute. Maybe if he was single he could be my guy.

  Waverly, order a drink first!

  “What’s your specialty?” Judging by the naughty smirk on his face, I phrased that wrong and added, “Drink?”

  Not only was he nice to look at and overly friendly but he made delicious drinks. In fact, the first one went down like sour candy. It made me pucker thanks to the sour sugar on the rim of a pink grapefruitini. So good, I was about to order another with a bit of a slur when he suggested some food. Agreeing with him, I had him order me a half of a grilled cheese and sun-dried tomato sandwich with parmesan French fries. Then I followed my food up with two mangotinis with speared chunks of fresh mango.

  It was when I was on my second one that a familiar man appeared on a stool next to me. “Hey, I know you… Where did you come from?” I poked his muscular arm with the end of the empty toothpick. “You’re not supposed to be here.” I think I said a few more things about mangoes—nothing bad or suggestive. “Are you following me?”

  “Is he bothering you, sweetheart?” I smiled at my bartender friend calling me lovingly sweetheart and thought maybe I should’ve asked him to be my fiancé…but it was too late.

  “He’s okay. He’s my assistant but he won’t fetch me coffee. He just wants me to perform favors for him like—”

  Morgan cut me off explaining his reason for being there. It sounded reasonable. He was probably really there to pick up a girl to take home and fuck, with me a floor below.

  Eww, yuck, don’t say that, Waverly!

  “It was my apartment first. Not yours…” I don’t remember what more I said before Maverick was telling me that he was taking me home. I’m pretty sure I protested and I think I mentioned being engaged, but I can’t remember clearly as I was just praying I didn’t taste my dinner and drinks all over again as they left my body.

  I know there was no way I walked out of there, so I am thinking that I was carried home. I knew one thing, I was never showing my face in that place again.

  I was a hot mess.

  Chapter Twelve

  Morgan

  Waking up with Waverly in bed next to me was the most wonderful thing in the world and I had to get the fuck up. I wasn’t sure I could keep my hands to myself with her awake and coherent. Nothing like I found her the night before.

  Finding her sitting at the bar looking gorgeous, I swooped right in to find a slurring woman flirting with a bartender who should’ve cut her off. “Hey…I know you,” she said to me poking me in the arm with a long sharp empty toothpick as I sat on the stool next to her. “It had mango chunks…or was that the time before… I forget… What are you doing here? Are you following me again?” She tilted her head back strangely, looked down her nose at me and pursed her lips as if she was waiting for some answers. Not a pretty look on her usually gorgeous face.

  I silently laughed to myself. “Despite what you think. I have not been following or spying on you. I had no idea you were here. It’s close to my apartment.”

  “No. It’s close to my apartment. I lived there first. Long before you had to come and make things wrong…” She stuck her tongue out at me then grimaced and looked like she was about to be sick. “Oh, the room is tilting a bit.”

  “Let me take you home. I think you’ve met your quota.” I was already standing up to help maneuver her off her stool.

  She waved her arms like to push or wave me away. “I’m fine.” She attempted to stand and wobbled into my arms. “You can’t take me home with you…” She turned her face up at me and looked so cute… And then she shattered my heart all over again, “What will my fiancé think?”

  Focus on helping her was what I told myself. I didn’t give a fuck about another man at that moment. I just needed to settle her tab and get her out of there fast before she decorated the bar with vomit. It wasn’t until hours later that the fucking fiancé popped back into my mind.

  What?! Where the hell did a fiancé come from?

  Was a fiancé her reason for avoiding me?

  Was that why she found it so easy to leave our past behind?

  Was he someone in the company?

  Was he an old boyfriend?

  Did she know him before me? Was he the reason she left? All of those thoughts were going round and round in my head again as I looked over at her sound asleep with her head on the pillow next to me.

  Okay, and I did have thoughts of ripping my shirt off her body and sampling her nipples…her pink nipples I could never forget. Of course, I had to stop my thoughts there, even though I would’ve loved to have another taste of her. And that is why I left her behind to make coffee.

  It had already been hell taking care of her the night before. Carrying her up to my apartment. Holding her hair back while she puked. Rinsing her mouth. Cleaning her up with a warm washcloth and removing her soiled clothes. Seeing her naked curvy body was torture and I moved quickly to pull a t-shirt over her head. Knowing there was no way I was going to leave her alone, I stripped down to my boxer briefs and climbed in next to her. Pure agony until sleep came to me.

  I was thinking over a list of everything I could’ve enjoyed with her had she not been drunk or had a fiancé when I heard screams coming from my bedroom. I launched off my barstool and ran as fast as my legs would carry me, sliding to a stop on the wood flooring before slamming into the end of my bed frame.

  Sobbing whimpers were coming from Waverly as she cried out in her sleep, “No, no, no, Daddy. Come back. Don’t leave me. Where are the croissants? No, yours, Daddy.” And then she screamed “no” loudly again. Watching the tears streaming down her beautiful face, I knew I had to wake her up. To stop the nightmare plaguing her.

  “Waverly… Waverly.” I moved to her side, sat on the bed and stroked her arm softly and then nudged her shoulder when she continued to whimper. “Baby, it’s alright. It’s just a bad dream. Wake up, baby.”

  “What?” She opened her pretty dark brown eyes and looked up at me. “Where am I? I smelled coffee… But there were no croissants when I went to the kitchen… My mom was nowhere in sight… Then my father faded away saying you were the croissant maker now…” Tears continued to flow down her face as I tried to wipe them away.

  I wanted to kiss her. Hold her in my arms.

  “Ohhh…owww,” she said, struggling to sit up in my bed.

  “I helped you home last night. You were a tiny bit drunk.” I laughed softly as I moved back allowing her to sit all the way up so I could get her to drink the water I had for her along with two pain relief tablets. “You might want these,” I said, offering the items.

  “Thanks.” She willingly took them and then looked around my room and then down at her body encased in one of my large t-shirts. “Did we?”

  “No. I want you fully coherent and completely mine when I fuck you into tomorrow. I won’t share you with your temporary fiancé.”

  “Fiancé…yea… I ah…I should get…get going…” There was her stutter again.

  “Relax. You’re safe with me.” I stood up. “There’s a new toothbrush on the counter in the bathroom there.” I pointed as I backed up toward the door. “Take a shower if you want. There’s another t-shirt on the counter. Your clothes were a little messed up and they’re in the washer about to go in the dryer…” I saw the grimacing look on her face. “It’s fine. I took care of you. Come have some coffee and I can make you some toast.”

  Leaving her to groom herself, I went back to the kitchen island and searched the internet on my laptop for a croissant recipe. Not that I had all of the ingredients but I would get them
and I would make them for her. If her Dad told her I was the croissant maker, I would make it so. I just hoped I lived up to his standards. Was her father a baker? Were her parents still up in Seattle? I couldn’t ask that. My father told me where she came from, but she hadn’t told me anything personal.

  “Hey.” I heard as Waverly came into my line of sight, appearing to have taken me up on my offer to shower since she was in the other t-shirt I had put out for her.

  “Have a seat.” I nodded my head toward a row of chairs on the other side of the island, opposite me. “You’re in luck, I happened to have cream that was delivered to me on accident…” I knew exactly how she liked her coffee from Marseille and the office. Grabbing a mug, I moved to the fridge and poured the cream in the cup before putting the coffee in, then I placed it in front of her. “As you like it, Mademoiselle.”

  I had hoped to get a reaction out of using a French word, but she didn’t respond back in French. “Thanks,” she said in English as she moved the cup up to her lips.

  Lucky as fuck cup! I wanted her lips on mine.

  Turning away from the sight of her, I looked for items to make her toast—another thing I promised to make her feel better.

  “Woah! Hey! Who are you?” Waverly exclaimed with happiness in her voice.

  I didn’t need to turn around to know that my cat who lacked manners was probably on the island, right up in her face. And sure enough when I turned to take in the sight, she was nuzzling and purring with Waverly’s fingers in her honey-colored fur.

  “That’s Mersea. Check her tag.” She wore a thin light blue collar with a heart charm that had her name etched into it.

  “I like the spelling. Clever. French and English. A play on merci too?”

  “Thanks. All of the above to her name. I found her a couple of months before I was scheduled to leave Marseille. I asked around to see who she belonged to, but nobody claimed her. I took her in and then jumped through hoops to get her ready to come to the states with me. I couldn’t leave her.” I swallowed hard thinking about how I had been left behind by the beautiful woman giving love to my cat.

  “She’s so friendly.” Waverly’s smile hit me square in the chest.

  “You can shoo her off or she’ll never leave you alone.” She laughed as she attempted to push her back enough to sip her coffee.

  I laughed at the stalemate going on between them and then lifted Mersea off the counter while she protested with a meow until I took her to the cupboard with her treats. “That will make up for being separated from you.”

  “She’s so pretty and she’s got unusual blue eyes…almost like yours.”

  “She was a mess when I found her and she smelled of salt water and fish.” I laughed. “That’s why I gave her that name, actually. Then I washed the sea smell off her… Bathing a cat is not easy. Even tempting to calm her with a piece of fish didn’t help. She attacked me.”

  I loved the laugh and smile on Waverly’s face as I told her all about getting scratched up during the scrub down and, again, when it came time to load her in a carrier for the plane. Then I mentioned how spoiled the cat was with kitty condos in the laundry room when I left her home alone and in a couple places around the apartment when I was home.

  “Mersea is one lucky girl… Umm… Speaking of the laundry room…do you think my clothes are ready so I can get out of your way?” She bit her bottom lip.

  “Oh, fuck! Let me go put them in the dryer.” I really wasn’t upset about completely overlooking them at all—whatever kept her in my apartment worked for me.

  Starting to head to the laundry room, a distance song played. “Where’s my purse? That’s my phone.”

  “I’ll get it,” I said, hoping that it wasn’t her fucking fiancé as I returned to hand it to her. And damn it, I was pretty sure it was as it started to ring again with some mushy love song.

  “Hey. Ah, no I’m not home right now. Ah, got up early…”

  “I’ll be right back,” I said loud enough to be heard by the person on the other end and it seemed to work quite well for me.

  “That’s…that’s just a…a guy from work…”

  I mumbled to myself as I went to the laundry room. “Yeah, I might be a guy at work but right now I’m the guy that has her in my apartment wearing nothing but my fucking t-shirt.” I was feeling pretty good at that moment. “Advantage me!” I pumped my fist in the air and Mersea rubbed up against my legs. I took that as a high five but, really, she probably just wanted more food. That cat was a bottomless pit.

  Back in the kitchen area, Waverly was off the phone and pouring herself another cup of coffee like she belonged there. “Hope you don’t mind I took the rest of the coffee.” I shook my head and moved to the side of the island to hide how much I loved everything about her.

  “Twenty minutes and your clothes should be dry.”

  “I was thinking that I could get them later… Your shirt is long enough to be a dress on me…it covers everything. I could slip down to my apartment unnoticed. I’ve got a…an appointment—”

  “You mean a date with your fiancé.” There was unmistakable bitterness in my voice and I didn’t care. I hated him and I didn’t even know him.

  Waverly just looked at me and then hesitantly nodded. “I’ll bring back your shirt and cup later or—”

  “Just keep them,” I sounded defeated realizing she was about to walk out of a perfect opportunity to ask her questions and tell her how I was still a fool to care about her… Fuck! I still loved her after all the years that separated us.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Waverly

  I could barely look at Morgan a few days later in the office. I couldn’t believe he found me drunk in a bar and then took me home to his apartment. Ugh. He had to take care of me. I was so dumb; what would’ve happened to me had he not rescued me?

  He undressed me I realized as I stood naked under his big t-shirt brushing my teeth before hopping in his shower the following morning. Thank God he told me nothing happened! That would’ve made things even more awkward than they already were working together.

  Such a total lie, Waverly! Who are you kidding? You know you would jump at the chance to have him between your thighs.

  He’s a really good guy, I said silently to myself as he walked into my office with a cup of coffee and a plate with a flakey croissant on it.

  “I made that.” He nodded his head down toward the pastry. “Let me know how I did.” Then he walked out of my office after winking at me, causing butterflies to flutter in my belly and my heart to pound faster.

  Stop gawking, Waverly. You’re engaged, remember?!

  Was that such a good thing to do after all, I wondered. Too late! I played it off well pretending that my friend, Evie, was a man when she called me. There I sat in Morgan’s kitchen area like I belonged there sipping my morning coffee. Knowing I had his full attention when he brought me my phone, I slipped into conversation using vague words like I was hiding something. Evie caught on fast with my brief answers and asked questions perfectly. I nearly laughed, but held it together when Morgan responded under his breath a touch loud a couple of times before he disappeared for a bit. I loved his jealous comments. It made me feel like he felt something more for me than a piece of ass. Or maybe it was just a male ego thing.

  I really didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay all day with Morgan and Mersea. I loved that cat instantly. I never had a pet in my life and she seemed to like me too. Her eyes were the color of Morgan’s and her fur was similar to the color of my hair. Strange. Did she remind him of me at all? I loved her name too. It reminded me of my French lessons in Marseille.

  Going against my heart and using my better judgement, I left wearing his t-shirt with his cup in my hand. In my apartment, I quickly changed into a sundress and sandals and went to meet Evie for brunch on the harbor. She needed to talk about her summer fling and I needed to stop myself from running back upstairs.

  I never did return the cup or t-shirt. If I was
honest, the t-shirt found its way onto my body most nights of the week, unwashed. I loved the smell of him on it.

  Stop thinking about him, Waverly, get out of his shirt and go to work!

  Damn it! I hated to get out of bed and head down to the office. That was one of the shitty things about cyber security—it was twenty-four-seven since the internet was worldwide. Most of the time my guys and a few girls handled everything but there had been a few times they called me to come in. Not that I could do any technical stuff, but on rare occasions they needed my approval or my troubleshooting with clients. Our clients really seemed to hate when we bothered them in the middle of the night but sometimes it was necessary.

  For those ungodly hour visits to the office I forgot all about professional attire or makeup and my completely unfashionable glasses found there place on my face. Out the door in yoga pants under the infamous t-shirt—too lazy and comfy—I took the elevator down to the lobby to grab another one that accessed the office. Unlocking the doors that remained locked after regular hours, I went to find the tech in need of assistance. With the information gathered, I went to my office and made phone calls to groggy people on the other end of the line.

  With the situation under control, I got up from my desk attempting to head back to my warm bed. Lights on in the conference room I was able to see Morgan moving around the room, working on something.

  Forget about him, Waverly, and walk out or…

  I didn’t let my thoughts wander off to another possible scenario and felt my feet pad along the carpeted floor into the room where Morgan had paperwork all over the big, long table.

  “What’s all this? Are you planning a mutiny? Taking over the company?”

  “Nice shirt!” That was his response.

  Shit! What were the chances that I would run into him? What did I say to his comment? “I sleep in it every night so I can smell your scent, imagining your body wrapped around mine.” Or did I go with the casual “it’s just a shirt” and shrug?