Breaking Point: A Steamy Billionaire Romance

by BAKER, J. B.

  I spend a moment longer looking at receptionist Number 1 and sigh. How can anybody with blown up lips, fake tits and a face that looks like it’s just rolled off an automated production line at a synthetic humanoid production site get a job here? She would be better suited for a roll in Blade Runner as a replicant.

  But I instinctively know the answer to my question. Sean bloody Courtney likes hot women, and he would never go for anything subpar in his firm. Looking more closely at the specimens roaming around the vast open-plan space, I know that he likes blondes. Maybe that is what attracted him to me two years ago. It certainly wasn’t my intellect that got him.

  “Thank you.” Is all I manage to say to the blonde mannequin. To add further delight to my experience, she is a spitting image of the irritating flight attendant who had tried to make me feel comfortable during the transatlantic flight to London. She had failed miserably. In time, her chirrupy voice had driven me insane. Looking at receptionist Number 1, I know that there is no escape from this type of woman in Sean’s world. For the next twenty-four hours, I am at their mercy.

  Without another word, I walk over to the seating area that is located near the large floor-to-ceiling windows lining the entire building. I pick the cream-coloured leather sofa closest to the window and sit down with a sigh. Once seated, I look at the security pass pinned to my navy blue suit jacket that was handed to me at the reception downstairs.

  I read, “VISITOR” imprinted in silver capital letters on the front. If today doesn’t go well, that is all I’ll ever be. The company I worked so hard to set up is on the brink.

  Looking over the large lobby that is all glass, steel and white stonework, I cannot help but smile at the irony of it. Everybody who works on the floor is either blonde, big-breasted, vulgarly gorgeous and dressed fashionably or tall, dark-haired, incredibly fit or gay and equally fashionably dressed. With my eyes still wandering, I stop to look at the proud lettering written on the front of the reception desk: “Courtney Holdings Incorporated”.

  Damn, he sure has come far since I last saw him. He was rich then and now he’s richer still. How is that even possible?

  Close to the seating area is a spacious glass-walled meeting room with an equally roomy white and cream-coloured marble table with at least twenty-four matching leather chairs around it. Turning my head away from the offices, I look out of the floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the London skyline and the city that spreads out in all directions as far as the eye can see. I sigh – the place oozes power and it’s intimidating.

  It is my home. I used to live in London. During my time at Courtney Holdings and after completing my Master’s Degree, I had primarily been based at their New York offices. Of course, I missed my hometown but Sean had insisted that my talents were better used in the USA. So, that’s what happened. What Sean wanted, Sean got. Plain and simple.

  For a moment, my gaze rests on the glimmering, glass-paned towers of the City of London. On the left side is the glass-clad building called the Shard. Letting my eyes roam, I can make out the walkie-talkie shaped structure of 20 Fenchurch Street. A little further afield, Canary Warf with the largest skyscraper at One Canada Square. Seeing it all makes me feel at home. I do miss London, I realize, glimpsing at the tallest and most impressive structure again – the Shard, I mouth.

  That was until Sean Courtney added the Courtney Tower to the London skyline. The building, in which I sit, is the tallest in the city. Completed a little less than a year ago, the silvery-glass eminence dwarfs everything else around it. It makes me think that Sean had planned his purchase of Sunbeam Energy all along. I still worked for him when the renowned architects, Foster and Partners from London, had marched through the office doors to start work on the planning for the building I currently sit in.

  I check my watch for the umpteenth time since my arrival. Thirty minutes have gone by and none of the insanely attractive staff have looked in my direction once. They haven’t even offered me any refreshments – I am a forgotten entity in a sea of purposeful activity. Starting to feel a little left out, I watch the perfectly choreographed movement in the office. Everybody has a task and a destination. I am the only one who seems completely out of place.

  I intuitively know that making me wait is all some ruse and a tactic to make me feel inconsequential and nervy. Sean is mercurial and he knows how to play his counterpart’s strings as if he were playing a musical instrument. I am just not sure whether I can even consider myself an equal at all. In the scheme of things, I am more of a supplicant, begging for some crumb off the table than a person with any kind of leverage.

  I look around again. I can see a delegation of people I recognize walk towards me behind a series of glass windows. I gulp. It’s the CEO and CFO of Sunbeam Energy, followed by their usual retinue of PA’s, lawyers and the likes. The two men are also the main shareholders of the former conglomerate and presently newly minted multi-billionaires. I sigh – Sean truly is clever. It is surely no coincidence that my meeting and that of my former clients’ had been arranged in such close proximity.

  I realize that I have especially been seated close to the exit where the elevators are, so that both parties have no chance but to bump into one another. I mouth the words, “Sean, you’re the biggest asshole. You’re enjoying this. Rubbing my misfortune in my face.”

  “Is that you, Rachel?”

  Jack Blake, CEO of Sunbeam, breaks away from the rest of the group and makes his way toward me. His colleague, the CFO, makes no such effort. He hurriedly passes me by without a moment’s consideration and heads for the lifts.

  “Hi, Jack…” I clasp the man’s hand. I had spent countless hours with him in the past. We had discussed everything from saving his company from a very public sexual harassment scandal to announcing a cutting-edge new technology. I had always come out on top for him, adding to my former client’s prestige. “How’s it going?”

  “Great…things couldn’t be better.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “Yeah, Sean sure is a smooth operator.” Jack shakes his head in wonderment. “The guy literally bought the company from under our noses.”

  “Really, I somehow doubt that.” There is a hint of venom in my voice.

  “It’s true, Rachel. Had I known sooner, I would’ve told ya.” Jack lifts his arms and places his hands on my shoulders. “It was me who told you of the merger in the first place, remember?”

  I nod. “If only it were a merger of equals – this is a buy-out with Sean holding all of the cards.”

  Jack sighs. “Yeah, I know. It was all done fairly and legally though.”

  “Maybe for you. As far as I understand, you and quite a few others are going to be insanely rich after this deal’s gone through.”

  “Not will be – are. The deal is already done. Sunbeam Energy as it was is no more. The Courtney energy division will now swallow up the firm. You know, Sean’s favourite project.” Jack shakes his head. “Things are moving so fast. It’s no wonder that Sean’s the richest man on the planet. He stops at nothing until his goals are achieved. I guess the man could have anything he wants if he puts his mind to it.”

  I could’ve thrown up then and there. Everybody speaks of the man as if he is some kind of god. All he is, is some kind of sociopath with delusions of grandeur and a minority complex. For as long as I worked for him, he bedded every woman that he came into contact with, including me. The notion makes me sicker still. I think that his late wife was lucky not to have to put up with her husband’s disgusting behaviour for any longer.

  “What are you doing here, Rachel?”

  “What?”

  I was still lost in my own thoughts. It’s been happening a lot recently since the announcement of the buyout. I spend many hours of the day thinking about my nemesis – the man who is in the process of taking everything away from me with every blink of his avaricious eyes.

  “I asked you what you’re doing here?”

  I raise my eyebrows. “I rea
lly don’t know.”

  “That bad, huh?” Jack’s hands are still on my shoulders. “Don’t’ worry about it too much. There’s an opportunity to be found in everything – all you have to do is find it.”

  I nod. I like Jack. He’s a good guy, but he is no Sean Courtney. Maybe that is a good thing. Not in business at least. In business, only the most ruthless and persistent survive and Jack is too sweet to play in that league.

  “You are…were our biggest client. I don’t know what’s going to happen now. The Courtney Group has an in-house communications’ division. They have no need to outsource the activity.”

  “Yeah, but maybe something will come out of this meeting. You do have a lot of expertise, and you know all there is to know about the intricacies of new energy production. Trust me, Sean needs you if he wants a smooth integration of Sunbeam into his firm.”

  “I hope so, Jack.”

  I can’t help but feel like a fool for saying that and for hoping that the very same man who fired me for sleeping with him would also be so farsighted. The entire notion is stomach turning and so damn unfair.

  “Listen, Rachel…I gotta go, but I’ll be in touch. Maybe we can go for dinner or something.”

  “Sure, I’d like that.”

  I know that Jack will never ask. He has a very jealous wife who would never let him out of her sight. Let alone with another woman. It was nice of Jack to say it though. Sometimes a white lie, no matter how obvious, can be good for the ego.

  “Bye, Rachel, and good luck.”

  “Bye, Jack. Say hi to your wife for me.”

  Jack nods and gives me a lopsided grin. I know he will never call. We always played the same game in the past. I am certain that when Jack spoke to his wife of the head of the communications’ firm he worked with, her name was Robert and not Rachel.

  I spend a moment wondering why so many women are jealous of everything their partners do. Such behaviour boasts insecurity, or maybe men are just hardwired to cheat and their wives’ suspicions are warranted. I have no chance of knowing because I have never been in a real relationship with a man and loved him enough to be jealous of his actions. Work has always been my partner.

  “He’s ready for you, Miss Saunders,” says a voice, jerking me out of my thoughts.

  I look up. Hey presto, it’s another blonde Barbie with an east London drawl.

  Despite my predicament, I could’ve laughed out loud. The lady who addressed me could be receptionist Number 1’s twin sister. Am I at some nude photo shooting or what? I just about expect some star photographer to pop around the corner and ask me to disrobe. “Thank you,” is all I say to receptionist Number 2. Slowly, I gather my Hermès attaché case, containing my notes, a proforma contract of engagement and other items I deemed necessary for the upcoming meeting.

  I follow receptionist Number 2’s clicking heels and oscillating backside. I can’t take my eyes off the receptionist’s posterior as it swings this way and that like a large pendulum. I can imagine the lecherous Sean following his female employees around the office like a rabid and horny dog.

  The woman’s shoes echo off the granite floor invasively, as we walk past a series of glass-walled meeting rooms toward a double black wooden door. In front of it is another desk with two further receptionists. And guess what? They look similar to the first two.

  “Miss Saunders is here for Mr Courtney,” announces receptionist Number 2 as if she’s heralding the arrival of some monarch.

  I could’ve laughed out loud again. The two women behind the desk behave like a couple of preened Afghan guard dogs - if one could ever use an Afghan for such duties. Their golden blonde hair burnishes under the lighting, their blue eyes glimmer spitefully, and their overly made-up red lips pout stupidly. Subconsciously, I give them the names Bitch and Bitchier.

  Receptionist Number 2 taps her long tapered nails done in the French manicure style on the front desk, obviously irritating the two other blondes. I watch the force of wills play out before me. I am certain that there is not more than maybe a combined score of fifty in an IQ-test present in the small grouping by the desk. I stand discreetly a few paces behind the woman who accompanied me.

  “Who’s this?” asks receptionist Number 3. Already, she has forgotten my name.

  Receptionist Number 2 rolls her eyes. “It’s Miss Saunders to see Mr Courtney.”

  The two ladies behind the desk whisper to one another. They speak so quickly that it is impossible to make out any of the words. Finally, one of them looks at receptionist Number 2 snootily. “We’ll take over from here, thank you.”

  As if she’d just escorted a vital asset from behind enemy lines, receptionist Number 2 walks past me without saying a word. Her swinging backside and clicking shoes accompany her until she is gone around the corner.

  In the meantime, my presence is being announced over the intercom system.

  “Send her in,” reverberates a dominant voice loudly over the mouthpiece of the apparatus. I smile. So, you’re still full of yourself - some things will never change.

  “If you’d follow me, Miss Saunders,” says receptionist Number 3, or was it Number 4? I can’t tell them apart anymore.

  At that point, two things cross my mind. One, I swear I will never subject myself to receptionist 1, 2, 3, and 4’s oscillating arses in their immaculate, tight and sharp charcoal-coloured suits. Second, I am certain that Mr Courtney has fucked them all, either one at a time, or all together at the same time. It doesn’t really matter because he certainly fucked them either which way. Sean is probably the vilest man I have ever had to deal with and now I am about to step into his presence. Shivers of disgust shoot up my spine.

  With a nod at the receptionist, I follow her to the overly large double doors. After blondie knocks, we enter the room.

  Chapter 3

  SEAN

  “Oh my God, Rachel, it’s so fucking good to see you.”

  She winces, but does not say anything. She barely nods. I can see that she’s still pissed off with me. Come on, we had sex, it was fun and the ensuing lawsuit for firing her after cost me ten million Dollars. Win-win situation, right? Well, that’s what I thought at first. When she was gone, time gradually changed my mind and now she’s finally here, just where I want her to be.

  And damn, she looks better than ever. I get up and walk over to her. She’s standing by the door to my office like a doe caught in a car’s headlights. I hardly notice my assistant who stands next to Rachel, trying to act professional. I come to a halt about two paces away from her and look her over more closely.

  My gaze scans Rachel’s blonde hair that falls from her head and down her neck like a cascade of molten gold. I’ve got a prettier version of Scarlett Johnson standing in my office. My gaze drops a little. Yep, her tits are as big as I remember them to be – nice and full and a perfect weighty fit in my hands. I can’t help licking my lips when a salacious memory assaults me. Always thought she was hot. At least that has not changed. I gulp when she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. My gaze homes in on her crotch like laser beams.

  My cock jolts when her tits undulate under her tailored blouse that I imagine hugs the outlines of her frame perfectly under the suit jacket. Her nipples press against the thin fabric. Jesus, they’re hard for me. Controlling myself, I look into her eyes – sky-blue just like I remember them. Despite her more carnal offerings, they are her most beautiful aspect. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of them.

  I think of the circumstance when we parted ways. I haven’t seen her in two years. I know she was one of the good ones, but I couldn’t take it any further. It is just not what I do. I fucked her on my boat and that was it. I did what I always do. I don’t do relationships and I definitely don’t do intimacy. It’s only got to do with animalistic release – nothing more. It was mutual and I know she liked it too.

  And yet, she had expected more. I knew it the moment we woke up the following morning. Her face had been a tapestry of expectati
on. However, against all of my instincts, we did it again.

  I feel myself harden at the thought of it. I see her staring at me and I know she is expecting me to say some more, to explain the reason for her being here, but I don’t. I let the silence drag on, just a little longer. I love the effect that quietness has on people. It invariably makes most nervous – I guess we as a species are not hardwired to remain still. I smirk when I see my assistant shifting her weight from one leg to the other. Actually, the whole siltation is quite funny.

  I don’t care; I need to watch her for a little while longer before we start the talk that I intuitively know is going to be tough. Memories of her sultry azure-blue eyes and her dressed in a sexy business suit, basically oozing sexuality, cloud my mind. I could, this very instant, banish all of my cerebral functions and let my brain exit the room, leaving my cock in charge. I would send blonde number 1, 2, 3 or 4 out of my office and I’d fuck Rachel on the designer carpet in the sitting area of this room. Then I’d take her from behind and press her upper body against the windowpanes – Rachel would come with the best view of London under her.

  Jesus, she was so fresh, so innocent, voluptuous and willing. I remember waking up next to her the following morning. I had watched her sleeping, while I thought of what to do. Back then, her hair had been longer and it sort of spilled over the cushion in a yellow silky cascade. Her lips were puffy from all of my greedy kisses the night before. The smooth skin of her jaw was reddened from my stubble. I can still see her dark eyelashes that lay in flowing sweeps against her reddened cheeks. The make-up she had worn the night before was smudged on the pillow.

  Fuck me, she had a body to die for – still does – I know it. How the sheet had lain low on her slender hips, drawing a line across the hollow plane of her belly. It was like an objet d’art, bordered by the protrusion of her angular hipbones. I could still taste her. It had been like nothing I’d ever experienced - so sweet, somehow florescent. Like she’d stepped out of a sweetshop while sucking on a lollipop. I had gone down on her like a berserker and eaten her out as if I was trying to draw that taste from her body and keep it forever in my mouth.