The Triplet Scandal - A Billionaire's Babies Romance (Scandalous Book 3)

by Layla Valentine

  I grab his shoulder, my fingernails digging into his skin as he circles his body into mine. Leon turns and gives attention to my leg draped over his shoulder, kissing my calf and my ankle to the timing of his thrusts.

  I try to look at him, to take in every second of what feels like an earth-shattering event, but I can’t. My eyes roll back and drift closed, and I let my head fall back into the softest pile of pillows. Leon grabs my other leg and hooks it over his shoulder, as well, and I bite my lip to keep from moaning.

  Leon’s thumb brushes across my mouth, and I open my eyes to see him looking down at me. He looks almost unrecognizable. The kind lines of his face are hardened, focused, and his blue eyes are mostly pupil now.

  “Don’t,” he says.

  I must look confused because he grips my chin and continues. “Don’t hold it in.”

  He increases his pace, and I’m grateful for his understanding because I can’t stay quiet. Animal sounds pour out of me, and I claw at Leon, desperate to hold onto him or anything to keep me rooted to the ground.

  Warmth is building in my body, lapping at my insides like I’m dried wood for kindling, and any second, I’ll alight. Then, the same thumb that moments before brushed against my lips, brushes against another sensitive part of me. My hips buck of their own volition, and I squirm as Leon’s pace becomes relentless and wonderful.

  Heat builds inside of me, a tight ball of fire making me clench and coil until, finally, mercifully, I snap.

  It feels like standing in front of a fan in the middle of a heat wave, like drinking a glass of ice water after days without water. Leon is quenching a desire in me I hadn’t realized was there, and I only realize as I’m coming down that I’m thanking him.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” The words are breathless and embarrassing, but sincere. “Thank you.”

  “My, you sure are polite,” he growls, nearing his own edge based on the pattern of his breathing.

  My arms and legs feel like limp noodles, but when Leon takes my legs from his shoulders, hooks his arm around my waist, and flips us both over, I position myself on top of him like it was a choreographed move.

  Once again, our bodies find an easy, natural rhythm, and we move together until another wave of pleasure washes over me and my arms collapse. I fall forward onto his chest, and Leon strokes my hair even as he is bucking and twitching into me, finding his own release.

  We curl into one another, kissing and stroking and talking until he is ready, and then we do it again. The sun sets, and the only light in the room is the yellow streetlights filtered through his curtains, giving us both an unearthly kind of glow. When I fall asleep, I’m exhausted and far beyond caring that I’m covered with nothing more than a sheet and Leon’s arm.

  Chapter 10

  Grace

  I wake up with the sun.

  Leon’s room has east- and west-facing windows, which I hadn’t noticed the night before. He’s still sleeping next to me, his breathing deep and even, and I gently slide out from under his arm and tiptoe, naked, through the still-dim room and into the en-suite bathroom.

  The floors are white tile, the countertops marble, and the shower is just a continuation of the floor with a drain in the middle and a large pane of glass acting as the divider. It looks like the bathroom you’d see in a spa brochure. There is even a white robe hanging from a hook behind the door, and when I smell it, I know immediately that it’s Leon’s. I make a mental note to tease him about having a robe.

  I rinse my mouth out with water, scrub the leftover makeup from my face, and run my fingers through my tangled hair. There are soft brown bruises across my neck and shoulders from Leon’s playful sucking, and I run my fingers over them, thinking it wouldn’t be so bad if one of them became permanent. Then, I would have a reminder that last night was real. It really happened.

  The thought of putting on my skirt and blouse from the day before repulses me, so despite my plan to tease Leon for it later, I grab the robe from the hook and slip it on, rolling the sleeves until I can see my hands.

  Leon is still asleep, sprawled across the bed like a starfish, so I sneak out and pull the bedroom door closed behind me. When I walk down a short hallway and take in the living room, my mouth falls open.

  The room is two-stories tall with brick walls, exposed pipes and steel beams in the ceiling, and a mezzanine level around three walls with bookshelves. A modern chandelier with glass orbs hangs over the main living space and is at least eight-feet wide. Had I really been too distracted to notice all of this the night before? I know he was carrying me inside, but I mean…his living room has a balcony.

  Large windows as tall as me dot the far wall, and I realize Leon must live in a penthouse. He has an entire floor of the modest brick building with windows in every direction. The house is still dim, but the morning sun is leaving squares of golden light on the dark hardwood floors.

  The couch is a giant gray sectional with square arms and wooden legs. Very modern, very sleek, but also comfortable with bright green and yellow throw pillows. There is a metallic bar cart with a marble top behind the couch, stocked with ten liquor bottles of various colors and sizes, and a giant flat-screen television hanging on the brick wall, speakers mounted on either side. I can picture myself curling up in the corner of the sectional with a pillow and a blanket, watching a movie. My feet would be on Leon’s lap, a drink from the bar cart on the glass coffee table. The space is beautiful but warm. Like Leon.

  I smile just thinking about him. I’ve never been with someone who made me feel giddy like this. Who gave me butterflies and made me do stupid, reckless things.

  But then, is this stupid? Was last night a mistake? I’d avoided thinking about it during because, honestly, I couldn’t think about anything except Leon and what he was doing to me. But now, the morning after, when I would normally start to feel the beginnings of regret, I just feel happy. Blindly, blissfully happy. Being in Leon’s house, in his space, feels normal. I feel more comfortable in his penthouse after one night than I have in Sebastian’s after one month.

  It isn’t entirely fair to compare the two since there has never been and will never be a romantic connection between Sebastian and me, but the question is: am I willing to be uncomfortable for two years or more of my life when the opportunity for real love and passion is waiting for me in the world? Maybe with Leon, maybe with someone else, I’m not sure. Is $500,000 worth putting my life on pause and having less than I deserve? Because I do deserve this—love, romance, happiness. I deserve to be with someone who appreciates me and wants to take care of me, and now that I’ve had even the smallest taste of that with Leon, I’m not sure I can go back.

  I wander into the kitchen—a white room with dark wood cabinets and white marble countertops—and focus in on the fancy coffee machine on the counter. It’s all intimidating metal and unexplained levers, and looks exactly like the ones they use in actual coffee shops.

  I rifle through the nearby cabinets until I find a bag of coffee, but when I open it, I realize they are whole beans. I have to grind them myself. In my head, I had an image of me making coffee and breakfast in the kitchen when Leon woke up, looking effortlessly calm and confident as I hand him a steaming mug. In reality, I’m stomping my foot and cursing at the coffee grinder when I hear his laugh behind me.

  “Try plugging it in.”

  I look over my shoulder and see him in boxers and nothing else, looking perfectly tousled, his eyes still sleepy. I look away before I hurl myself at him and make us both late for work.

  “I don’t even see a plug.”

  He walks up behind me, heat radiating off of him, and reaches around me to grab something at the back of the machine. Then, he pulls it out.

  “The cord retracts.”

  I click my tongue. “Fancy people and their fancy machines.”

  Leon plugs it into the wall and then shoos me away, grinding the beans, leveling the grounds inside of a metal cup, and then locking it into the bigg
er machine and flipping a switch. The whole process takes him less than a minute, and then he leans back against the counter, arms crossed over his bare chest, and looks at me with the deadliest pair of bedroom eyes.

  “How did you sleep?”

  Not near as well as I woke up, I want to say, blushing at the memory of his arm draped across my body.

  “Like a baby. You?”

  “Considerably better than usual,” he says, a dark eyebrow flicking up. Then, he twists around—the muscles of his midsection pulling taut and being more toned than any muscles have a right to be—and checks the clock above the stove.

  “I better get in the shower if I want to make it to work.”

  “It’s not even six yet.”

  “I usually show up at seven.”

  “In the morning?” I ask, not bothering to hide my distaste. “Why? Aren’t you the boss?”

  He laughs. “Yes, which means everyone has a thousand questions for me at all times. The only way I can get any quiet time is when I show up early.”

  I think about Sebastian, closing his door and unplugging his phone for two hours every afternoon, leaving me to field his phone calls and take messages. It’s my least favorite part of every workday.

  “Don’t you have an assistant?” I ask. “You could just close your office door and leave them to deal with everything for a while.”

  “First, I don’t have my own office,” he says, as if this is standard practice for CEOs. “I share a large communal space with a few of the other executives. Second, Andre has enough work to deal with without taking on my load in the afternoon.”

  I try to imagine Sebastian sharing an office, but the idea is so far outside the realm of possibility as to be laughable.

  “Apparently, I should be your assistant.”

  Leon smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You shouldn’t be anyone’s assistant.”

  Before I can confess to Leon what I’ve been thinking about all morning—that I might not be Sebastian’s assistant for much longer—he grabs the fresh cup of coffee out from under the spout and hands it to me, quickly sliding a fresh cup underneath and going through the whole process again.

  I don’t normally like black coffee. I only drink it when I am desperate for caffeine in any form. But this might be the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had. I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until Leon laughs.

  “Good. I would offer you breakfast, as well, but like I said last night, I don’t cook much. My pantry is pretty bare.”

  “What do you normally eat for breakfast?” I ask, sipping on my coffee, not really minding that it is burning the tip of my tongue.

  “I don’t.”

  “Don’t have a usual breakfast?”

  Breakfast is the one meal of the day where I’m content to eat the same thing every morning. Scrambled egg whites, one link of chicken sausage, and sliced strawberries. It’s a trustworthy combination with plenty of protein to keep me full until lunch.

  “Don’t have breakfast,” he says. “At all.”

  I don’t realize my mouth is hanging open until Leon reaches out and gently lifts my jaw back into place. “How? Why?”

  He grabs his full cup of coffee and takes a sip. “Coffee’s good enough for me.”

  “No. No, no, no.” I shake my head, bottom lip tucked in. “You have to eat breakfast. If you don’t eat breakfast, then your body thinks you’re starving and slows down your metabolism.”

  He smiles and gestures down to his gloriously flat stomach. “My metabolism is fine.”

  Okay, fair point. Also, mee-ow.

  I rally. “Breakfast is delicious. The best meal of the day.”

  “I eat breakfast foods for dinner at least once a week.”

  I sigh. “Well, that’s something. All hope is not yet lost for you.”

  He sets his mug down and moves forward until our bodies are flush. One brush of his hips against mine, and I’m ready to let my robe drop to the floor and climb him like a tree.

  He lowers his head, blue eyes narrowed and sultry.

  “You think I can be redeemed?”

  With the thoughts running through my head, I don’t think either of us can be redeemed. I will be forever lost to this lusty, crazed state. I don’t see a way out.

  “Perhaps. But not this morning.”

  With superhuman strength and resolve, I push him away, grab my coffee mug, and walk out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom. I hear Leon padding along behind me.

  “Like you said, I’m the CEO. I can show up a little late if I need to.”

  “Ahh,” I say, wagging a finger in the air over my shoulder. “But I am not, so I cannot. Sebastian will expect his secretary to be there and waiting for him by eight at the latest.”

  I quickly run through my options. Myla’s apartment isn’t far, so I could hop on the train, shower and change at her place since she has fresh clothes I could borrow, and then get to work. Or, I could shower here and wear the same thing I wore the day before. Sebastian barely looked at me all of yesterday, so he wouldn’t notice, but others in the office might. I have spare makeup and a travel toothbrush in my laptop bag that I use to freshen up after lunch, so getting ready at Leon’s place seems like the best option, aside from the very real danger of Leon joining me in the shower and ruining my effort at timeliness.

  “I thought you said you were his assistant,” Leon says, voice soft and unreadable. “You said there was a difference.”

  “I am,” I say flippantly. “Everyone else calls me his secretary, so I guess I just slipped up.”

  “But you want to be more than that, right?”

  I turn around and see Leon leaning against the doorway, eyes trained on a spot on the floor. The easy smile from the kitchen is gone, replaced by an emotion I don’t quite understand.

  “Of course. Being his assistant is just temporary,” I say.

  I could tell him that I’m thinking about ending my deal with Sebastian. And that when I do, Sebastian will probably fire me, but something about the look on his face gives me pause.

  “But it’s still good experience for now,” I go on. “I create most of the agendas for meetings and do a lot of bookkeeping. I even have a few people under me.”

  “So, you like being his assistant now?” Leon’s brow is furrowed, and he’s biting the inside of his cheek, his mouth twisted to the side.

  “You say it like I’m spending my days unclogging his toilet. It’s a job in the industry, and I’m going to work hard until another opportunity presents itself.”

  “Like being his wife?”

  “You know that’s not what our arrangement is about.”

  I set my coffee cup on a long, low wooden dresser and start to gather my clothes from the floor. I slide my panties up under the robe and shimmy them on. Leon has already seen all of me, but I don’t want him to see anymore. Not now.

  “Do you really think any other companies are going to want to hire you after you’ve been married to Sebastian Wayde?” he asks, the disgust obvious in his voice. “No one will trust you.”

  I step into my skirt and jump as I pull it up over my hips, finally letting the robe fall to the floor. “No other company wanted to hire me anyway. Sebastian was the only person willing to give me a chance. You may hate him, but he is my boss, and—”

  “I would have hired you,” Leon says, running a hand through his mussed hair. “Sebastian offered you crumbs. I could have given you—”

  “I applied.” The words are louder than I intended, and Leon stops and stares at me. “FutureTrust rejected my application just like everyone else, okay?”

  His forehead wrinkles in thought, and then he rubs his thumb down his jaw. “I’m the CEO. I can talk with the other officers and HR and—”

  “I’m not going to come work for you.”

  I pull my wrinkled blouse over my head and smooth it out as best I can with trembling fingers. Working for Leon would maybe solve my issue with Sebastian, but it would only cause
problems with Leon. I like him. A lot. But I couldn’t date the CEO of the company I worked for. With Sebastian, it feels different because it’s a business arrangement. Neither of us is emotionally invested, so no one can get hurt.

  But what would happen if Leon and I started dating and then broke up? Could I still work at the company? And what would my coworkers think about me dating the CEO? Every time I received a promotion or a raise, no one would trust it was because I’d earned it, because I’d put in the time and effort. There would be whispers about me sleeping my way to the top, and the whispers would hurt a lot worse if they were true.

  “Why not?” he asks, walking over and placing his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to face him. “I can help you.”

  “Because I don’t want your pity.”

  This is true. It’s one thing for me to think my career situation is dire, but when it is obvious someone else agrees with me—especially when that someone is Leon freaking Knight—I have to put on a brave face.

  I go on. “Things at work might not be ideal right now, but at least I know I earned my place there. I’d hate feeling any other way.”

  Leon lets his hands fall to his sides and then nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have known you weren’t the type of woman who would want me pulling strings for you.”

  I give him a shy smile that he doesn’t return. He turns and walks over to his closet, pulling out one of what I assume is a large collection of suits. He drapes it over his arm and looks back at me.

  “Well, on the bright side, at least we both got one over on Sebastian before your wedding.”

  The words are so casual and quick that I almost dismiss them, let them slide past without any further inspection. But then, like a delayed poison, I begin to feel their sting. Tears instantly begin to well in my eyes, but I blink them back.