His to Master and Enjoy [The Billionaires and Their Playgrounds 2] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

by Jan Bowles

  The powerful silence they shared before this most intimate of sexual acts took place returned, leaving only their warm, heavy breath to finally slow, then perfectly synchronize as they lay entwined together on the hood of the Caparelli.

  Paige had a new life now, and a new man to share it with.

  Chapter Five

  It was eight in the evening and the setting sun was just starting to hide behind the live oaks. Feeling happier than he had in years, Leon whistled a cheery tune as he strode across the courtyard that led to Paige’s private accommodation.

  He’d spent the best part of a half hour in his wine cellar, choosing the perfect relaxer for them both, and the bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild and two crystal glasses he held in his hand chinked merrily against one another as he made his way to her front door.

  It had been three days since he’d pleasured her silken body over the hood of his favorite car, and he’d been on a natural, endorphin-fuelled high ever since. His first impressions had been confirmed. Paige was special, incredibly special, and she’d responded exactly how he’d wanted. He was right. They shared the same wavelength.

  Tonight, they’d relax with a bottle of wine, and in the process learn more about each other. He wanted to know everything about the beautiful new lady in his life. What was her favorite food? Had she ever skied in Aspen, or even the Alps? What was her politics? Hmm, perhaps I’ll leave that one for now. Of course, he had her portfolio on record, which she’d needed for her job as his personal assistant, but that only contained simple facts and figures, information she was happy to divulge about herself. He was looking for emotions. He wanted to know what made the real Paige Palmer tick.

  However, Leon needed to tread carefully, because in his experience everyone had secrets, skeletons in the closet so to speak. Just about every one of the seven billion inhabitants on this overcrowded planet had things they didn’t wish to discuss, or sometimes even remember. He was no different, because even he had memories and episodes in his life which he found painful to relive.

  My mother’s illness and my father’s death.

  The same went for sex. They were both into the D/s lifestyle, but for now he’d play it cool and not pressure her into accepting hard limits she wasn’t comfortable with. He could always renegotiate at a later date as their relationship blossomed.

  Leon rapped three times on the door and waited. He knew she was in because her arthritic beige Ford lay slumped on the driveway. Luckily for him, a screen of mature spruce and juniper bushes hid it from the main house. If ever a car needed a visit to the crusher, it was this one.

  He’d told her he was going to visit friends in Denver, so she had no idea he was coming over tonight. That meant he had the element of surprise on his side. He smiled as her feminine shadow, concealed by the frosted glass in the front door, made its way toward him. Leonardo Caparelli always made it his business to seek the advantage, whether that be at work or play.

  As Paige opened the door, she immediately put her hand to her chest in shock. He’d caught her cold all right. She wore a facemask that cracked with surprise as soon as she saw him. The dried brown goo looked incongruous next to her stunning green eyes, and he had trouble stopping himself laughing. With a stoic restraint he was proud of, he just about managed it. A sexless, quilted robe fell to her ankles, as well as being securely buttoned right up to her neck. When he looked down, he was amused to see a pair of slippers his grandmother would choose. The old-fashioned type with big fluffy pompoms. Oh yeah, he’d certainly caught her cold, and this gave him one hell of an advantage.

  “Leon, I thought you were—”

  “Hank called me earlier. Told me he’d come down with food poisoning, along with Jake. So the poker game was cancelled. Too bad, and I was feeling lucky tonight.”

  He’d never seen her look so self-conscious and downright embarrassed, and he gleefully reveled in her discomfort. “Oh…oh…I’m sorry to hear that, I’d invite you in but—”

  “Thanks for the offer.” He’d always had a mischievous side to his nature, and he strode past her, before settling himself into a comfy armchair. “Not disturbing you, am I?”

  Continuing to look distinctly uneasy, she replied, “Er, no, no. Not at all. I was just winding down after work. I often curl up on the sofa and chill out with a good book.”

  Leon knew she wanted to run away and hide, then come back all glammed up as though nothing had happened. What woman wouldn’t? But for now he’d enjoy the show. “Uh-huh, I see,” he said nonchalantly, picking up the paperback that lay open and facedown on the coffee table to keep her place. “Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. I’m impressed.” He guessed she blushed profusely under the mudpack.

  “I really should go and change.”

  “No need to on my account.”

  She coughed self-consciously. “Well, in that case, can I get you a drink?”

  He held up the bottle and glasses. “I’m way ahead of you.”

  Almost in a panic, she grabbed them from him and rushed toward the kitchen. “I just need to sort out a corkscrew. I’m not exactly sure where it is.”

  He really shouldn’t be so cruel, but other people’s discomfort, especially that of a natural submissive like Paige, was always entertaining. That was why it was incorporated into so much D/s sex play throughout the world. As he patiently waited for her return, he allowed himself to stretch luxuriously like a contented cat. In the six months relationship he’d shared with Cherise, he’d never once seen her without makeup. This was fine to begin with, agreeable even, but after a while he realized that the blonde supermodel he initially found so attractive was as shallow as a puddle of rainwater. She had no hidden depths. What you saw was what you got—a self-centered, money-grabbing bitch.

  Paige was different. Even plastered in the mud-and-seaweed facemask, and dressed in something Mother Teresa would consider overly prudish, she still turned him on. Why? Because the real Paige would always be there, just beneath the surface.

  Leon idly scanned his surroundings. In the two weeks he’d employed her, Paige had already stamped her own mark on the modest accommodation that came with the job. A selection of pictures now hung on the wall, adding color to the bland surroundings. He rose from his chair and walked around the living area, stopping briefly when the photograph of a large, hairy dog piqued his interest. He guessed it was once Paige’s best friend and favorite pet, but from the age of the faded image, he figured the affable-looking pooch had long since met its maker.

  Right next to it hung a large framed picture of Paige aged he guessed about seventeen or eighteen. She stood between an older man and woman. All three of them were smiling, genuine happy smiles that reached their eyes, and he didn’t need to be Einstein to figure out that these good-looking people were her parents. Her mother, who in the photograph appeared to be in her forties, was an attractive woman, and he saw where Paige got her beauty from, because both mother and daughter shared the same captivating green eyes. There was an old saying, if you want to know what a girl will look like when she gets older, then take a close look at her mother. Well, that was exactly what he was doing right now, and he liked what he saw.

  When Paige came back into the room, he had to do a double take, because the mud-and-seaweed facemask along with the sexless quilted robe had gone. No wonder it had taken her so long to find a corkscrew. In the time she’d been away, Paige had obviously rushed to the bathroom, rinsed away the face pack, and then shrugged on some clothes she felt less self-conscious in. He had to admit that she scrubbed up well and looked simply stunning in a pair of hip-hugging Levi’s and a white blouse that deliciously followed the contours of her shapely breasts.

  Mmm, nice. Very nice.

  She placed the wineglasses on the coffee table and deftly filled them with a feminine elegance he liked before raising those stunning green eyes to his. “Château Lafite Rothschild ’96. This doesn’t come cheap.”

  “About three hundred dollars a bottle. I’ve two
cases laid down in the cellar. Rumor has it that Lafite was the favored wine of the extravagant French king Louis XV, and in Europe is known as The King’s Wine.”

  Paige handed him a glass. “You’re clearly a cultivated man, Leon.”

  He liked the way she perceived him. “I like to think so, and I’ve always been attracted to beautiful things. Beautiful houses, beautiful cars, beautiful artwork, and of course beautiful women.” He watched long lashes sweep down and cover her stunning green eyes as she blushed a little. That was something he’d always found sexy in a woman.

  She took a sip. “I may not be a connoisseur of fine wines like yourself, but I know when something’s good”—she took another sip—“and this is exceptional.”

  He motioned with his glass of wine. “The picture of the dog on the wall. Yours?”

  Leon adored the way she sexily licked her lips, swiping away the plum-colored liquid. “Yes, that’s Duke. My parents gave him to me on my seventh birthday. It was dad’s idea to call him that, because he was a lifelong fan of John Wayne. Duke was a lovely old thing. He followed me everywhere and didn’t have a nasty bone in his body.”

  “And I take it that the one next to it is of you and your parents.”

  Immediately her chin dropped to her chest, and he knew he’d hit a raw nerve.

  “They’re both dead,” she barely whispered. “Killed in a car crash three years ago. It was a traumatic time for me.”

  “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry to hear that.” As someone who’d lost a much-loved parent himself, he genuinely was, and he felt the irresistible urge to wrap Paige in his arms. Her body trembled in his embrace, and he thought he heard a sniffle or two as well.

  After a few moments, she patted his arm. “I’m all right now, really I am. It’s just occasionally when I think about it or someone mentions it. I’m an only child, and as I was over eighteen, it was up to me to identify my parents’ bodies. The hospital had done their best to make Mom and Dad look…well…you know…like they were sleeping, but they were a strange color, a color they never were in life, and the waxy look to their skin let me know they were never gonna wake up. I instantly knew I’d never hear my mother’s wonderful laugh again or feel my father’s comforting hand on my shoulder while telling me, ‘There’s nothing you can’t achieve in this world, Paige, once you put your mind to it.’”

  Leon felt she wanted to talk, wanted to let it all out in some sort of cathartic release, so he held her in his arms a little longer and kissed the top of her head, allowing her the time to pause or continue, whichever she wished.

  “And then there was the funeral. I had to arrange that all on my own, too. Mom had a brother, and Dad had a sister, but neither of them seemed willing or able to help.”

  “You were very brave, Paige, and you carry that courage with you wherever you go. I already know you well enough to say that courage will never leave you.”

  “Thank you, Leon. Your opinion is very important to me.”

  He took a deep breath and squeezed her vulnerable, warm body a little tighter. “We already share so much in common, Paige, and I’m not just talking about our sexual preferences.” What he was about to say, he wouldn’t normally volunteer, because even after all these years it still made him feel bitter. However, Paige had willingly opened up to him, adding more detail than she needed. So he felt it his duty to cement their growing bond by opening up to her, too.

  “My father died when I was ten years old. I was there. It happened right in front of me.”

  Her soulful green eyes widened, and she put her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp of surprise. “Oh, no, Leon. No. I mean, I’ve read enough about you, like everyone has, to know that your father died when you were young, but I didn’t know the details. I mean…”

  He sat down and pulled her onto his lap. “Well, I suppose it’s all ancient history now, but I remember it as though it were yesterday.” Leon sighed. “My father was a larger-than-life character, and the boss of Caparelli Motors. Going back almost thirty years, he and his team of engineers developed the revolutionary new Caparelli Mirage. You see, my father, much like myself had a need for speed. It excited him. It made him feel alive. With this adventurous risk-taking attitude to life, I suppose it’s unsurprising that he wanted to be the first manufacturer to produce a two-hundred-mile-per-hour road car.” He shrugged. “Of course, Lamborghini, Zonda, Ferrari, and Bugatti all produce road cars that go that fast now, but back then, in those heady days, two hundred miles an hour was uncharted territory. My father, Carlo Caparelli, wanted to be the first to break through that magical barrier, and as his son, I’m proud to say he did.”

  He heard an unsure little voice say, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  A simple question, and if it had been anyone else other than Paige, he’d have told them to mind their own fucking business, or feel his fist in their face, but the new lady in his life seemed to possess that purely feminine quality that made him want to continue.

  “Everything was perfectly set up. The press and television were all present, and my father had been giving interviews to as many reporters as he could. For much of the time I was standing at his side, and felt far more grown up than just about any other ten-year-old. Dad was an extrovert character and loved all the attention being paid to him and his car. He certainly wasn’t publicity shy. The location he’d chosen was perfect, too—the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah, where land speed record attempts had been made for many years.”

  Leon breathed in and closed his eyes, and then started to relive that blisteringly hot June day some twenty-eight years ago. “It’s hard for a woman to understand, Paige. Maybe it’s a man thing, but the sheer excitement and exhilaration of being part of such an event was overwhelming. I can still recall the Caparelli engineers, Gino and Paulo, rushing around to check everything was perfect for the record-breaking run. It was.

  “I’d never felt so proud of my father as when he fired up the car and headed down the endless expanse of pure white salt. The engine howled with a magical sound that’s hard to describe, but when I heard it for the first time, it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. That was the exact moment I realized I wanted to be the boss of Caparelli Motors one day. It was my destiny.

  “As the technically advanced car, with my father at the wheel, triggered the timing equipment, everyone went completely quiet for about ten seconds, then a huge cheer erupted, and I was lifted into the air and spun around by every single member of the Caparelli team. My mother did it, too. She looked so happy and proud. ‘He’s done it, Leon. Your wonderful father has done it,’ she excitedly shouted with tears in her eyes. ‘Look at the printout. Two hundred and six miles an hour.’ When I saw the figures, I shouted with excitement, too. It was the proudest day of my life.” Leon briefly opened his eyes then reached across and touched Paige’s hand. Her emerald-green eyes were wide, and she listened intently, clearly intrigued by this tale from his past. “I still have that faded piece of paper with the figures on. It’s very important to me.”

  “So he did it then?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But what, Leon?”

  “For the record to be verified, the car needed to achieve an average speed of two hundred miles an hour in both directions. This was to cancel out the effects of the wind.”

  “Oh, God, no.”

  “I watched entranced as my father turned the car around and then started on his second run. I heard the incredible sound of that magnificent engine growing louder and louder as he sped toward us. To my ten-year-old eyes, the car seemed to be flying through the air. It was traveling so much faster than on the first run, and I can remember the silver paintwork shimmering in the heat haze from the overhead sun as it drew closer. He was going to do it. My father was about to make history. And then…

  “And then suddenly an almighty bang resonated from the car, causing everyone to jolt with surprise, and although I was just a kid I immediately knew that a tire had blown. Like a s
urreal nightmare, I watched events unfold as though viewing an action movie in slow motion. The car first slewed wildly to the left, then to the right as my father fought to regain control.” He heard himself sigh.

  “Not even Carlo Caparelli could control such a raging beast of a car, and I stared in horror as it suddenly dug into the sun-bleached salt, before somersaulting onto its roof again and again, until it finally came to a complete stop.” He shook his head. “The sickening sound of the accident as my father’s car lay smashed to pieces will stay with me for as long as I live.”

  Leon closed his eyes again as he recalled that fateful day, and he felt Paige’s warm hand brush against his. “You don’t have to say any more.”

  “I want to. Huh, strange really. I was ten years old, and I’d never seen a grown-up cry. I thought it was only children who cried, but as we all piled into the back of a pickup truck and sped across the salt, I watched my mother along with Gino and Paulo openly weep with despair. That was when I knew my father was dead. I didn’t cry though. I got the feeling he’d be proud of me if I didn’t. Instead, I just felt numb, empty, like it wasn’t really happening.

  “When we got closer, I saw that my father lay half in and half out of the mangled wreck. He wasn’t moving, and his face was covered in blood. My mother jumped from the pickup truck first, only to become hysterical. ‘No, no, no.’ I can still hear her anguished screams if I allow myself to. ‘It’s not happening, it’s not happening.’ Members of the team tried to calm her, but she was inconsolable with grief, and she eventually collapsed, curling herself into a fetal ball. She stayed in this position, twitching and muttering incoherently, until the medics who by this time had pronounced my father dead took her to the hospital, along with the body of the only man she ever loved.

  “I remember one of my father’s engineers taking hold of my hand and quietly leading me away. By this time I was in a state of shock, so didn’t put up any resistance.”