The Billionaire's Deal: The Complete Story: An Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Kaswell, Crystal

  No time to come down. He moves faster. Harder. Deeper. I gasp at a rush of pain. He's not letting up.

  He fucks me, nails on my shoulders, teeth on my neck. A groan overtakes him. Harder. Harder. Harder. His nails sink into my skin. His body shakes.

  "Kat," he groans.

  One more thrust, and an orgasm overtakes him. He comes inside me. Thrusts into me until he's completely finished.

  He collapses next to me. Kisses my neck. A few shifts of his weight on the bed and he's taking off my restraints. The ankles first, then the wrists. I curl my body to wrap it around his.

  Blake pulls off my blindfold. I blink my eyes open and stare into his.

  "Okay?" he asks.

  I nod. Much better than okay. Amazing.

  He holds me until my heart slows and my breath returns.

  Chapter Thirteen

  We take a long shower together. Blake rubs soap over every inch of my skin and rinses me off carefully. I return the favor. It's the first time I've really gotten to touch him. His body is all hard muscles and perfect lines. He really is gorgeous. Perfect, even.

  After, he helps me into a soft, terry cloth robe. It feels lush and luxurious. His whole apartment is lush and luxurious.

  We move to the kitchen. Blake pours two glasses of water and motions for me to drink. A hint of irritation flares in my chest. I'm not a child. I don't need him taking care of me.

  His eyes catch mine. His stare demands an answer. I turn aside, pulling my robe tighter. I'm not really in the mood to argue. It's late.

  But I can feel his eyes on me. My cheeks flush. "What?"

  "You tell me." His voice is steady and aloof.

  "I appreciate gestures, but I don't need to be told when to drink or eat or sleep or shower. I'm not into that."

  "Noted."

  I relax. No arguments, I guess.

  "You hungry?"

  "Yes." I finish my water and pour another glass. I'm almost positive his expression is smug, but it's hard to tell with Blake.

  He fixes a plate of fruit, cheese, and chocolate. My breath hitches as he slides a square between his lips. I turn to the windows and take in the view. Lucky bastard. This apartment is the stuff dreams are made of.

  "How many hours a week do you work?" I ask.

  "A lot."

  "If you had to guess."

  "Eighty. A hundred maybe."

  Damn. That doesn't seem possible. I've worked hard the last three years, but nowhere near a hundred hours a week. That wouldn't leave a moment to spend with my sister.

  "Why make all this money if you've got no time to enjoy it?"

  "I like work," he says.

  "Are you sure? Maybe you're afraid of being away from work." I turn back to Blake and make eye contact. A shiver runs through me. Damn intense stare. I manage to hold firm. "Every time I see you, you're in control. Do you ever let go?"

  "Let go of what?"

  "Being in charge." I move towards him. Take a berry from his plate. "It must be exhausting."

  He shakes his head.

  "You need it, don't you?"

  "Spare me the pop psychology."

  "Is that why you're doing all this for your mom? Can't control that she's dying but at least you can control what she thinks of you?"

  His expression hardens. "You don't know what you're talking about." He turns away, his shoulders slumping.

  "I don't mean that you don't care. I know how hard it is to lose someone you love."

  He looks to the floor. "Looking for motivation is a waste of time. This is what I want."

  "But what if your mother would prefer the truth?"

  Blake raises his voice. "This is what I want. If that's a problem, I need to know."

  My temper flares. "Don't raise your fucking voice at me. I'm not a child, and I won't be scolded."

  His brow furrows. He slides the plate over the counter top. Digs his hands into the marble. "Fine. You're an adult. You agreed to this. That's all I need to know."

  "Blake. You can talk to me. You don't have to shut down like this."

  "There's nothing to discuss." He closes off, crossing his arms over his chest, turning as far away from me as he can.

  The man is in a towel, but the only thing I want to see is his eyes. There's hurt behind his eyes. Of course there's hurt behind his eyes. His mother is dying. His sister is a mess. His father was horrible somehow.

  My stomach flip-flops. It shouldn't care what Blake is thinking or feeling. He's a difficult boss. That's it.

  But I want to hug him. I want to comfort him. No one else is going to. Maybe no one ever has.

  "Blake. Your father. You said he hit you."

  His hand slams against the marble. "I'm not discussing that."

  I shrink back. "Okay."

  "There's a lot to do for the wedding. I'll take care of most of it. All you need to do is show up when I tell you to."

  I take a few steps towards him. "I can do more. I want to."

  I press my hand against his back. He shivers, but he keeps his body away from mine. I'm locked out. Not likely to get a key anytime soon.

  His voice steadies. "What would you like to do?"

  "The park. I want to do it at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens if we can."

  "I'll make it happen."

  "What if it's booked?"

  He shrugs, pushing me away. "I'll pull some strings." He turns and his eyes find mine. "Anything else?"

  "I'll think about it."

  He nods to the plate. "Eat something."

  "Later."

  Blake steps aside. "It's late already."

  "I want to stay over." My cheeks flush. I can hardly believe I invited myself to sleep over. He's the most independent, aloof guy I've ever met, and I invited myself into his space. Bad idea.

  I try to study his reaction, but his thoughts are somewhere else entirely. He looks so calm. It shouldn't be possible to look so calm.

  "There are clothes in the spare room." He points to the room where we had sex.

  "The sex room?"

  That elicits a tiny grin. "Yes. I have to get back to work."

  "It's late."

  "I have some work left, and I'm leaving early tomorrow." He moves towards the back of the apartment. His bedroom. "Help yourself to anything." He steps into the room and shuts the door behind him.

  I shake my arms. Release the tension. Release, dammit. Blake's issues are not my concern. We're not really getting married. I won't have to live with his moods and his emotional distance. I only have to put up with him another few months.

  He emerges from his bedroom in jeans and a t-shirt. His eyes find mine. "Yes?"

  "Are we going on a honeymoon after the wedding?"

  "Of course."

  "Where?"

  "Doesn't matter. We'll be spending it in the hotel." He opens his office door. "But you're welcome to pick."

  "Oh."

  "You don't want to spend a week coming?"

  "No, I just. Forget it. I'm tired." I pull the robe tighter. It's not like I expected him to act all romantic about our fake honeymoon, but he's so apathetic. He could at least pretend.

  No, it's better that he's honest.

  "Goodnight." He steps into his office. The lock clicks behind him.

  I raid the fridge. The snack plate is no good. The smell of chocolate is making me awfully confused. There isn't much. Blake must eat all his meals in restaurants. I settle on a container of raspberries and a bowl of cereal.

  ***

  The office is quiet all night. I flip around the TV, half paying attention to reruns. My sketchbook is open in front of me, but I haven't made a mark. This is the perfect time to draw something. My junior year art teacher always told us to put our emotions on paper instead of letting them swirl around us.

  But I don't know where to start. Blake is intoxicating. He's fascinating. He's aloof, distant, and moody. He doesn't believe in love. He's not open to anything besides this ruse. I can't get ideas about him. Everythin
g between us is a lie.

  A rerun changes to an infomercial. I go to the cable guide. Crap. It's past midnight. I better call Lizzy and tell her I'm spending the night.

  My usual bag is sitting on the kitchen table. I guess Blake got it from the limo. I fish my phone out of it. There's a new text message.

  From Fiona. Her number is programmed right into my phone. What the hell? I know I didn't do that. But then, she took the limo home. She could have been looking around my purse.

  Fiona: I didn't mean to intrude, but this is the only way. I need to speak to you about your relationship to Blake. Immediately.

  She sent it a few hours ago. I reply.

  Kat: There's nothing to discuss. We're in love and we're getting married. I'd like us to be friends someday.

  Fiona: We both know that's bullshit. Are you at his place?

  Kat: Yes.

  Fiona: There's a coffee shop three blocks north. Meet me there tomorrow morning. Nine A.M. sharp. He'll be at work by then.

  Kat: It's Sunday tomorrow.

  Fiona: Exactly. He'll be at work all day. He's worse than Trey is.

  Kat: I'm busy.

  Fiona: It will only take a few minutes. I promise.

  I drop the phone. This is way too weird. There's no way Fiona could know about our arrangement. Blake is always so discrete about everything.

  My heart does a back flop. I tug at my robe. Oh, God. This could be really bad. I have no choice. I have to hear her out.

  I pace around the room. I could tell Blake, but the way he likes to be in charge, he might do something awful.

  I text Lizzy that I'm spending the night and set an alarm for eight A.M. Whatever this is, I need to take care of it on my own. I can't stomach taking any more help from Blake.

  Suddenly, I'm not hungry or tired or anything. I doodle in my sketchpad. Manic, angry, terrified lines. The TV murmurs in the background, casting a low glow over my paper. I can't make out any of the words or sounds. It's all a blur.

  Sometime after two A.M., I resolve to sleep. But not in the spare room. Not in the sex room. I go to Blake's room. I heard him leave his office to go to his bedroom. I didn't look, but I heard the doors opening.

  I knock softly. No sounds. I open the door and step inside. It's an ordinary room. A bed, a dresser, a laptop charging on the floor. He works in here, too. He's addicted.

  Blake is sleeping in the middle of the bed, stretched out wide. He takes up most of the space. I climb in next to him and wrap his arm around my waist.

  He stirs. "Kat. You shouldn't be here."

  "I don't care." I nestle into him. "I want to be here."

  He murmurs something I can't make out. He pulls me closer. His breath slows like he's drifting back to sleep.

  It takes a while, but I fall asleep in his arms.

  ***

  Eight A.M. comes too soon. I wake with a jolt. The bed is cold. Blake isn't here. I already know it.

  I dress, brush my teeth, fix my hair and makeup. There's coffee brewing in the machine. I take a few sips and discard it. I can't stomach anything today. I'm way too nervous. Even an apple is too much.

  My mind races, but I manage to wait until eight forty-five before I leave the apartment. Fiona texted me an address last night. I take the elevator to the lobby and walk the three blocks to the cafe.

  She's sitting at a small table. Picture perfect in her tailored shift dress, and she has that trademark Sterling stone face. What the hell happened to this family to make them all so good at hiding their emotions?

  She spots me, and her nostrils flare. So much for stone. Or maybe she cares so little about me she doesn't bother hiding her irritation.

  "Grab a drink if you'd like, but I'd rather keep this quick." Fiona takes a long sip of her coffee.

  "No, that's okay." I take my seat. I'm not in the mood for coffee. I'm already wide-awake.

  "I don't want you to think of this as an accusation." She purses her lips. "I'm sure you have a very good reason for what you're doing. Maybe you don't even realize you're doing it."

  Her expression is strong, but her hands are shaking. The damn cup is shaking. She glances at it like it's betraying her. She sets it on the table. Hands back to her lap.

  I shift my weight and pull my coat a little tighter. Not too cold today. Nice, really. Nice day for an accusation. Can't wait to find out what she'll call it instead.

  "I was like you when I met Trey. I was desperate to get out of my life any way I could. He was handsome and rich. He had a great apartment. Nothing compared to Blake's, but nice. The kind of place that made me feel safe." She takes a sip, all the while staring at her cup as if she's willing it not to shake. "I let myself believe I was in love, but I wasn't. I was in love with the idea of escaping. I was in love with the idea of someone taking care of me."

  Deep breath. I need to sell this. "I'm in love with Blake."

  "Maybe you believe that. Hell, maybe you are in love with him. Either way, it won't last. All the signs are there. He's never going to give up his lifestyle. He's never going to make room for you." She stares at me. Through me.

  I hold strong. "I disagree.

  "I did the same thing you're doing. I ignored the signs. But Trey was never going to love me. Not like a partner. Not with respect." Her eyes get serious. "I didn't have options. Maybe if I had them, I would have done something else."

  I fiddle with my purse. What the hell is she getting at?

  "I looked into your story. I'm sure it was hard—that accident with your parents, taking care of your sister. I can see why you'd latch on to Blake."

  I take a breath, willing an I love him to escape my lips. But I can't make the words happen. They're such a lame excuse.

  Fiona unzips her purse. "I would have done the same thing. I did do the same thing and I had it much easier."

  Something inside me sinks. This isn't going well. "I should go."

  "You don't have to explain anything to me." She pulls something out of her purse. A check. She unfolds it and sets it on the table. "If you need money, here it is. Enough to get you on track."

  She pushes the check towards me. Fine. I pick it up and bring it close enough to read.

  Holy shit.

  It's for twenty-five thousand dollars.

  "What is this supposed to be for?"

  "It's an option." She steels herself. "Trey and I are still married, and I still have access to our joint accounts. No reason why I shouldn't spend whatever I can. The prenup is very specific."

  "I'm not taking your asshole husband's money," I say.

  She stares right into my eyes. "You'll save everyone a lot of trouble."

  I push the check back. "I love Blake."

  "You don't. You want to love him because it would be easy. He wants to love you because, well, I'm sure he told you about Mom. But that won't last. He'll be working a hundred hours a week again. You'll be lonely. You'll grow to hate each other."

  "We won't. And that's not your place. It's not any of your business."

  "He's my brother." She pushes the check back to me.

  I go with the only comeback I have. "I love him."

  "Maybe you do, but that isn't going to be enough. And I don't want my brother dealing with this." She stands to leave. "Someone in my family deserves a good marriage." Fiona takes a step towards the door. "Trust me. You don't want to be a twenty-four-year-old divorcee."

  I slide the check into my pocket. I can't take her money. No matter how much it would help Lizzy and me. No matter how much it would free me from the weight of this lie.

  No matter how easy it would be.

  I go to rip the check in half, but I can't bring myself to do it. I've made too many decisions on my own, and I've made them all under pressure.

  For once, I'm considering my options.

  To Be Continued...

  Episode Three

  Chapter Fourteen

  The smell of coffee hits me the second I open the door. Lizzy is at the kitchen table, nurs
ing a cup and working on her laptop.

  She looks up at me and raises an eyebrow. "Dinner must have gone pretty well."

  "When did you get back from Sarah's?"

  "I left when I got your text." She nods to the coffee pot. "It's fresh."

  "Did you eat?"

  "Waiting for you." She finishes something on her computer and presses it shut. "Everything okay?"

  "Yeah, fine." I'm still standing in the doorframe, door wide open behind me. Not the most believable line at the moment. I pull the door closed and pour myself a cup of coffee.

  "How was dinner?" She polishes off her coffee and holds out her cup like she's asking for more.

  "You know families... there's drama."

  "Yeah." She looks to the table. "Sarah's parents are like that. Divorced, you know. They can't stand to see each other."

  I hand Lizzy her coffee and take a seat across from her. This is so much more comfortable than my last coffee date, but I'm still not being honest.

  I will the words, but they don't come. I could show her the check, explain it that way, but I can't bring myself to do it. I can't burden my sister with this decision.

  "Let's do something today." I try to push this to the back of my mind.

  "You sure you're okay?"

  "Late night."

  "Oh yeah?" Her eyes light up.

  "We're not talking about that." I take a long sip of my coffee. "Unless... are you having sex?"

  "No. But if I do, I'll use a condom." She shrugs like it's nothing. "How about brunch?"

  "Not the place around the corner," I say. "They don't card."

  She sticks her tongue out. "You're no fun."

  "It's my duty as your older sister."

  ***

  After brunch, we go to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. The spot of the future fake wedding, though Lizzy doesn’t know that. It's still too early for most of the cherry blossoms, but a few trees are sprouting soft white petals. Soon, they'll turn into a perfect shade of pink. Then they'll fall to the ground or blow away in the wind.

  Lizzy grabs a seat on a stone bench and takes in the park. It really is beautiful here.

  "So you want to tell me what's really going on?" she asks.

  "Nothing."

  She turns to look at me. "What's our deal?"

  "Me and you against the world." I reach into my pocket. The check is still there. But I can't burden her with this. One of us deserves a little freedom.