Wicked Billionaire

by Sawyer Bennett

  Another reason I know Bailey is probably the one woman I would take a risk for is I am not in any way looking forward to moving to San Francisco. The thought of leaving her behind is causing quite the conundrum of feelings within me, and I need to do something to reconcile it.

  Last night, as we were lying in bed and on the verge of drifting to sleep, I had asked Bailey a question that caused her to bolt upward out of my embrace.

  “Would you ever consider leaving Vegas?”

  I had yet to turn off the bedside lamp. Her face was aglow with an incredulous expression. “Are you asking me to come to San Francisco with you when you move?” she had asked hesitantly.

  For a moment, I had felt foolish for even asking. Our relationship was too new. “I guess. I don’t really know. I know it’s a huge commitment to even ask, yet I am curious as to what you would say.”

  Bailey had sunk back down into her pillow, studying me as she pondered it. “I’d have to think about it. My parents are obviously a big factor, but I suppose there are workarounds.”

  And now, suddenly, things seem to be moving faster than I intended. Was I making a rash move?

  I’d hastened to give her an out. “You don’t have to make a decision right now.”

  Bailey nodded. She’d then pointed out, “This could all be moot. You could be sick of me in a few weeks.”

  There was no hesitation in voicing my feelings. “I most certainly will not be sick of you in a few weeks.”

  Bailey cocked an eyebrow. “You know… you’ve never mentioned going back to The Wicked Horse. Not since we returned from Chicago.”

  “I haven’t really thought about it,” I admitted.

  “Do you miss it?” she asked.

  I really hadn’t. To me, it was a place to spend time. I rolled toward her, putting my mouth against hers. The kiss I gave her had the answer within it, but in case she didn’t quite get it, I said, “I like where I’m spending my time these days much better.”

  When I’d lifted my head, Bailey smiled. “You know I will go with you if you want me to. If you ever feel that what we’re doing in this bed is lacking in some way or you want more excitement, you know I am up for that.”

  I’d blinked at her in surprise, wondering why she would say that. I don’t believe I’ve given her a reason to doubt my fulfillment with her outside the sex club. My eyes warmed, and I touched her face with my fingertips. “Miss Robbins… I can assure you that I am more than satisfied with what we are doing. I don’t need or want more than this.”

  However, her self-doubts are not so easily managed. “I’ll go back with you if you want. I just want you to know that. I know we started there, then this turned into something else but… I’m still willing.”

  I didn’t know how to reassure her. And I was not averse to going back with her. It’s a legitimate sexual lifestyle, but I was exploring stuff I never had before. This was more exciting than anything I had ever encountered at The Wicked Horse.

  But all I had managed to say was, “Maybe we will. But for now, just trust you get me riled up in ways that place never did.”

  And to prove my point, I roll on top of her, then start kissing her again. I am no longer tired or ready to go to sleep.

  “Mr. Blackwood,” my father’s secretary says from behind her desk. “Your father is ready to see you.”

  Jolted out of the memories of being with Bailey last night, I hastily push off my chair and button my suit jacket. I grab my briefcase, nod to the secretary, and move toward the mahogany double doors that lead into my father’s inner sanctum.

  He and I have not spoken since the evening I walked out of dinner with Bailey. This was not unusual, though. My father and I rarely talk on the phone. Most of our communications are in the form of company emails, discussing business matters. As I had told Bailey, there were no wishes extended on either side for a happy Thanksgiving. It just wasn’t the way we were.

  I find my father behind his massive executive desk, poring over paperwork. He’s one of the hardest-working people I know, and he’s in his favorite spot right now. The trip he took to Paris with my mother this week was probably torture for him. Coming back to the Blackwood office is likely a vacation.

  He glances up, curtly saying, “Have a seat.”

  It’s the warmest greeting I could expect from him, yet it doesn’t bother me. If he had actually said something warmer, more endearing, it would probably freak me out.

  Clasping his hands on his desk, he nods at the documents he’d been looking over. “I’ve gone over the strategic plan you emailed me, and it’s good.”

  That’s the highest praise my father can offer, and I am happy to accept it. I worked hard on this project. Frankly, I didn’t expect him to find much fault.

  But he’ll have questions. For the next hour, we iron out various details until he is satisfied with what I presented.

  With the meeting concluded, I am prepared to head back to the airport and board the Blackwood jet to take me to San Francisco. I don’t expect my father to want extra time to chitchat on a personal level, nor would I expect him to invite me to lunch.

  I start to rise from my chair when my father says, “There is one other thing I wish to discuss.”

  Automatically, I settle back down into my seat, tilting my head to listen.

  My father stares across the desk, his blue eyes boring into mine with such intensity I think he might be trying to intimidate me. “Are you in a relationship with that employee you brought to dinner a few weeks ago?”

  My body locks tight over the accusation in his voice, and I’m wholly stunned he would bring this up. He’s never once shown an interest in my personal life. “I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

  My father’s mouth presses into a grim line of disapproval. “As head of this company, it is absolutely my business. Having a relationship with an employee could be disastrous. Not to mention she’s not the type of woman you should be having relations with.”

  I cannot stop the bark of laughter that erupts from deep within my chest. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “I am most certainly not,” he says in offense.

  I’m livid with my father, not because he’s expressing genuine concern about me or for the business, but by the mere fact his condescension of the issue is a direct attack at Bailey. He deems her to be unfit for a Blackwood, and that enrages me.

  It’s why, for the first time in my life, I speak to my father with utter disrespect. “I don’t believe I should take advice on women from a man who has routinely cheated on his wife.”

  My father doesn’t even have the grace to blush or look embarrassed. Merely lifting his chin, he says, “You are of an age where you need to start thinking about continuing the Blackwood legacy. You need to produce an heir, so we have a son to carry on this company.”

  I knew my dad was old-fashioned, but that statement borders on the ridiculous.

  “I was thinking of only having daughters,” I retort with a sly smile. “No reason a woman can’t run this company.”

  I knew that would totally offend my father’s innate misogyny, and it amuses me to see he’s more offended over the notion of a woman at Blackwood’s helm than me pointing out his cheating ways.

  I stand from my chair, grabbing my briefcase. “This discussion is over. Who I have a relationship with is my business as long as I do nothing to bring harm to the Blackwood name. I will determine the course of my own fate when it comes to relationships. I certainly won’t be taking advice from you. Unless you have anything else to discuss about the San Francisco project, I will be taking my leave.”

  All color drains from my father’s face at my dismissal. It’s simply not done within the hierarchy of power.

  His voice is cold and tight. “I don’t have to make you my heir to the Blackwood Empire.”

  I smile, acknowledging it is well within his right to do so. “If that is your decision, I will abide by it.”

  Calling his bluff
, I pivot on my heel and walk out of his office without another word.

  CHAPTER 26

  Bailey

  I flip through the folder Linda just handed me with a slow smile. I glance up at her. “Thank you so much. This helps me a lot.”

  Linda works for the human resources manager here at the Blackwood Vegas, and I was looking for historical reports for Declan. He had wanted to look at an employee cost analysis amongst the various resorts. It had been lower on my list of priorities, but with him gone for an entire week, I was quickly catching up on my to-do list.

  “Anytime,” Linda quips, then heads back to her cubicle.

  My phone buzzes, and I glance down at it. A huge smile comes to my face when I see a text from Declan.

  I grab my phone, ignoring how excited I am to have a few words from him. In all honesty, it’s been a lot harder than I thought it would be being away from him. While we frequently text throughout the day when he’s able to take a break from his work, and we talk at length via phone while we lay in bed at night, I have found I miss him terribly.

  One more meeting, then I will be on my way back to you. Dinner tonight?

  On his way back to me.

  He makes it sound like I might even be home to him. That says something considering Declan doesn’t have a good idea as to what home even means.

  My fingers fly over my phone screen as I reply. I can’t wait.

  I hesitate, hating I have a bit of doubt saying the words dwelling within my heart. Hating I doubt he will accept them as a genuine truth and terrified he doesn’t feel the same way. I consider this a cowardly notion, determining if I want something, I need to plainly ask for it. If I feel something, I need to let it be known. And if Declan doesn’t feel the same, I would rather know sooner rather than later. Because at the rate I am falling for him, my heart is soon no longer going to belong to me.

  Deciding to be brave, I type, I really miss you.

  I don’t hesitate, tapping firmly on the icon to send it.

  Determined not to obsess over what I just did, I lay my phone down, intent on ignoring it. I flip open the folder Linda had just handed me, prepared to take notes. My phone chimes with a text, so I grab it from my desk. It bobbles in my hand, then plummets to the carpeted floor beside my chair. I almost fall out of my chair leaning over to get it, but when I have it firmly in hand, my breath goes static in my lungs as I read Declan’s response. I miss you very much as well.

  And that’s it.

  I’m an absolute goner. This thing with Declan is real. If we’re lucky, it’s going to last. Sure, we have some logistics to work around, mainly the fact he’s going to move soon. But he as much as said he wanted me to go with him. I mean, he sort of beat around the bush, but I understood what he was saying. I could go with him if I wanted.

  Or we could do a long-distance relationship to see where his next project would take him. Maybe I would be in a better position to leave my parents at that point. Hell, maybe my parents would follow us the way Leonie does. It’s not like they have jobs tying them down.

  Definitely a lot of options. I expect Declan and I will work through them together.

  Movement passing by my cubicle catches my eye, and I look up with a smile, assuming it’s one of the other members who work in the executive offices. Over the weeks, I have gotten to know quite a few of them.

  Instead, a stunningly beautiful woman who absolutely oozes wealth, sophistication, and entitlement stands there. No matter how often Declan tries to educate me, I will never be able to recognize the name-brand labels of designer clothing. But the crisp white tailored suit she wears is no doubt something that cannot be bought off the rack.

  The woman is tall, thin, and has model-perfect features. Brilliant auburn hair pulled back into a sleek chignon at the back of her neck, aquiline nose, high cheekbones, and full lips painted a deep rust color matches her coloring perfectly.

  She has incredible green eyes that are almost hypnotic. Her ears, neck, wrist, and fingers drip with expensive jewelry. Her cologne smells so exotic I feel compelled to offer her money just for the privilege of sniffing it.

  She gives me the barest of glances before heading straight toward Declan’s office. For a moment, I’m shocked, but then I scramble out of my chair to follow her.

  Just as she crosses the threshold, I say, “Excuse me… can I help you with something?”

  She doesn’t even meet my eyes when she says, “I’m here to see Declan.”

  “He’s not here right now,” I reply with a hard tone. I’m his assistant, yet she just walked all over my domain. When Declan is gone, I am the protector of this office.

  The woman turns to face me, her designer handbag looped in the crook of her arm. She waves an impatient hand. “When will he be back?”

  “Late this afternoon, actually,” I reply with a lift of my chin. “And he has appointments then. If you would like me to schedule something for you—”

  The woman waves a hand again, this time in an apparent motion to shut up. “I’ll just wait for him here. I have stuff to occupy my time.”

  I’m stunned to inaction when she starts to walk around his desk as if she’s going to dare to sit there.

  I follow after her, not sure what I intend to do. It’s probably not professional to tackle her. “Just wait a minute… you cannot be in here.”

  To my dismay, the woman completely ignores me.

  “You’re going to have to leave,” I say icily when I reach the edge of the desk.

  The woman gives me a haughty look before pulling Declan’s chair out, then gracefully settles into it. She crosses one long leg over the other as she places her handbag on the surface.

  She narrows her eyes. “I’ll do nothing of the sort.”

  I suppress a growl of challenge, attempting to keep my voice level. “I’m sorry. If you do not leave, I’m going to have to call security.”

  Who was this woman?

  Maybe someone from his past who has gone all stalker-ish?

  She doesn’t seem like the type Declan would have been with, just knowing what I knew about him before he and I started working together. Going by the floozy type of woman leaving his suite the day he offered me a job, this woman is an ice princess, clearly educated, and has an arrogance that only comes from running in the same type of social circles Declan does.

  One thing is clear… she’s not put off by my threat to call security.

  In fact, she gives a tinkling laugh. “You most certainly will not call security because I’m sure they’d be extremely annoyed to receive a request to throw Declan’s wife out of his office.”

  For a moment, I’m sure that I misheard her. But then my ears start buzzing, my pulse pounding. Just by the way my body reacts, I know I heard her loud and clear.

  “His wife?” I gasp, knowing my eyes are wide with shock. My cheeks heat from my anger.

  To my horror, the woman gets a cunning smile, obviously taking absolute delight in what she sees on my face. And I know what she sees because I feel it deep in the center of my chest.

  Complete shock, utter devastation, and absolute betrayal.

  She attempts a sympathetic voice. “Oh, you poor girl. You’ve been diddling the boss, haven’t you? And it looks like you’ve fallen for him. You think he’s going to give you some lavish lifestyle, maybe pull you from the drudgery of being a secretary, don’t you?”

  Her voice drips with false sympathies and condescension. My face burns in response because a good chunk of what she said is somewhat true. I have been diddling the boss, and I indeed fell for him. While I don’t give a shit about Declan’s money, I do love my job. I kind of thought that if things worked out with us, we would be a team in this business.

  Gone is her piteous expression, her eyes cold. “Well, I’m sorry to inform you that you can’t have any of that because he’s married to me.”

  I ignore the burn of shame as well as the fury rising within me. If Declan Blackwood were to walk in this office right n
ow, I would very cheerfully kill him without a single regret about spending the rest of my life in prison for it.

  But I am never, ever going to let this woman know she managed to destroy me in a matter of moments.

  I draw up to my full height, crossing my arms over my chest. “I do not know what you are talking about, but Mr. Blackwood has never mentioned you. Now, you may very well be married to him, but he does not allow anyone in this office unless he’s in it. So, wife or not, you are going to have to leave. He’ll arrive from San Francisco around four PM. If you want to come back and talk to him, you may do so. If you continue to refuse to leave, I will call security.”

  Declan’s wife leans forward in the chair, bracing her weight on her elbows as she shoots me a leering grin. “Loyal to the boss, aren’t you, little girl? He would be proud of you.”

  She rises from the chair, grabs her handbag, and loops it into the crook of her arm. “I’ll do some shopping. If he comes back before I do, tell him that I stopped by and not to make plans tonight as we have a lot of catching up to do.”

  There is nothing I can say in response to that. The minute she announced she was his wife, my dinner plans with the man became moot. I watch, unmoving, as she sashays out of his office without giving a backward glance. Her perfume makes me nauseous, and I wonder where she has been all this time. Moreover, how in the hell did Declan think he could get away with lying to me about this? Did he honestly think he could hide a wife?

  When she disappears from sight, I trudge back to my desk. I settle down in my chair with a heavy sigh, then I bring up the internet.

  I have never once googled Declan Blackwood. Everything I know about him was learned by word-of-mouth. Some from the other housekeeping staff. And, of course, I knew the Blackwood name. They were sometimes in the news from a business perspective.

  Now, I type his name into the Google search bar, then add the word “wife” behind it.

  My stomach rolls when articles and pictures load, showing Declan standing beside the woman who just walked out of here.