Fatal Attraction: A Playboy Billionaire Romance

by Kylie Parker

  “If they ever ask you to come back here, always call me,” Lillian says and stretches her back slightly. “I can tell they think that pinning it on you is going to make this go away. They’re not doing their jobs. And at this point, it’s pretty obvious it wasn’t you.”

  “What about the lawsuit?” I ask.

  Lillian shakes her head and stifles a laugh. “Don’t worry about the lawsuit. I’m telling you, James, I’ll be surprised if that even makes it to court. There is an investigation open for sabotage –there is nothing to sue to you about. It was not your fault. So unless they find that your company was being neglectful, making it easy for someone to poison your supplements, no one is going to be able to sue you. So relax a little.”

  “I’m finding that hard to do,” I say, and I feel Sylvia gripping onto my arm for reassurance.

  “You’re going to be fine.” Lillian says as we walk towards the nearest parking deck.

  Halfway to our cars, I decide to act like a jackass to distract myself. “So, how’s Daisy?” I ask Lillian, referring to her wife whom we had had a threesome with not long ago.

  Lillian rolls her eyes. “She’s fine. Thank you very much.” And with that she storms past us to her car. I don’t think I can let her live that down, but I know I should play nice seeing as how she is my lawyer. She is really helping me out a lot here, so I guess screwing with her about our drunken encounter really is not a wise decision.

  “What was that about?” Sylvia questions.

  “Nothing.” I say and offer her a warm smile. “Thanks for coming with me. I didn’t realize all of that was going to get so personal.”

  “Well, I certainly learned a lot about you. I would have hated to have missed all of that.” She grins. “You know, listening to you talk about all of the people who may or may not hate your guts made me realize something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re an asshole.” She laughs. Well, I am not sure whether or not I should laugh too. I hope this doesn’t screw things up with us. She hooks her arm in mine again and then gives me a quick slap on my rear. Awfully flirty –especially for her.

  “Um…” I say under my breath. I’m confused. She’s calling me an asshole and flirting with me?

  “Listen, forget about all of that. Everybody has baggage.” She smiles brightly at me as we approach her car. She had been the one to drive us here, giving my personal driver a break. “Why don’t we head back to my place, what do you say?”

  Well, today has certainly taken a turn. I smile. “What do you think?” I ask. We climb into her car, and she pulls another fast one on me. Instead of heading home, she drives us further up into the parking deck until locating a more secluded area. I suspect I know what she has in mind, but I really would hate to put my foot in my mouth. “Whatcha doing, Sylvia?” I ask.

  She unbuckles and then turns to look at me. “Well?” she beckons me towards her, waving me over with her finger.

  I get out of my seat quickly and hop over on top of her in the driver’s seat. I search frantically for the lever to pull the seat back, and when I find it we both crash down so abruptly that our teeth smack together. “Shit!” I say, both of us with our hands at our mouths investigating whether or not our teeth are still in tack or if we busted our lips.

  She laughs at my clumsiness. “Good job, James.”

  “Oh, shut up.” I say and work quickly at changing the mood. I work my hand up her skirt and yank her underwear down and onto the floorboard before pulling my cock out of my pants. She reaches around and pulls my drawers down a little further just so she can pinch me on my ass. I kiss her lips, and there is a tingling sensation after the violent impact we had had only a moment ago. We both press on, choosing to ignore the mild pain.

  She has a small car, so we’re a little compacted. It makes it difficult to get her top off, but I manage. She’s wearing another impressive lacey bra that unhooks in the front. She always has the sexiest lingerie. I’m pretty sure she knows exactly when we’re going to be in the act because no woman dresses up her breasts like this every day. I unhook the bra, and the straps remain draped on her shoulders as I kiss and lick her perfectly round nipples. She’s a little ticklish, so she stifles her giggles with excited groaning.

  Sylvia reaches down and starts toying with me with her fingers, turning me on just as easily as she always does. Every time I have sex with Sylvia I have to remind myself that it’s real. This is my fantasy chick. The woman whose body I stared at every day on my way to work on that big billboard for Éclair’s company. I had always thought that it had to be photo-shopped, but I had been wrong. She really is that perfect –all except those colored contacts of hers that have to be hiding some sort of grotesque something –I assume as such because no one is that perfect. I wonder for a moment if maybe she has two different colored eyes or something like that, and for some weird reason that turns me on too. That’s a really weird-ass fetish to have.

  Once I’m inside her, Sylvia starts clawing at my back in all of her excitement, working her hands further and further up the back of my button up. She moves her hands around to my front to unbutton so that she can touch my chest. I remind myself of a second factoid. She had told me I was her fantasy guy too. She said she kept one of my posters for Shattered Inc. –one of the ones showing off my bare chest –in her apartment in front of her treadmill as motivation. That is a pretty big win for me to know that she has daydreamed about me before too. It’s almost too perfect.

  Soon she is screaming, and we have her little car shaking. We wind up sliding further down in the seat, and my rear hits on the horn. We both laugh, and I pop my head up to look around outside of the car in the event we had drawn attention on ourselves, but thankfully no one is out there at the moment. I cum inside her, and she squeals excitedly. Who knew after that shitty interview at the police department that I would wind up screwing around in their parking deck? Works for me. It’s sort of like a big fat Fuck-You to the local police who are doing a shitty job at savaging my company’s name.

  Sylvia and I clean up, both panting slightly and still on a sort of erotic high after our latest sexual encounter. We head back to her apartment for round two.

  51

  Kate gives me a tired smile as we sit down during lunch break inside the strip club where she waits tables. I do my best not to watch the strippers as they dance about. Surprisingly, the strip club actually has pretty decent food. I’ve been here before, but I’ve never been for the food in the past –obviously. Who comes to a strip club just to have lunch? Me now, I suppose. Kate told me she used to strip here before getting demoted to server due to a hip injury that took place while giving a customer… some extra services. I shiver at the thought. I can’t remember whether or not I’ve been here while Kate was stripping. I hope not. That’s my brother’s sister, and finding out she worked at a club I had made regular stops at really freaks me out.

  “Thanks for lunch.” She says shyly as I do my best not to look at her breasts that are squished into this really sexy outfit. She might as well be my sister if she is Eddie’s. Do not, I repeat, do not look at her breasts, James. Stop being such a creep. Just pretend she’s your sister.

  “Of course.” I say.

  She smiles, “And I really appreciate you telling me the good news about Eddie. I’m so glad he woke up. Even if just for a little while; maybe he will get better? I can’t wait to tell Bobby. I know he needs to hear it.”

  “I don’t know if you should, to be honest.” I say, “I would hate for you to get his hopes up and then something happen.”

  “I know, but he deserves to know.” Kate props her chin up onto her palms. She looks sad and tired. I know there is something I could do for her and for her kids, I just am not sure what just yet. I suppose Eddie has been helping out, but now with him hurt the way he is it’s probably getting rough.

  “I know he does. And it’s none of my business, I suppose.” I study her face. She’s too young to have wrinkles un
der her eyes like that. “Listen,” I say, preparing myself to get to the point, “I asked you to have lunch with me for a reason. I was wondering if anyone has told yours and Eddie’s father about what is going on.”

  I see Kate flinch slightly. “I haven’t.”

  “I don’t know much about him, and I know he sounds like a real prick, but he is Eddie’s father. He hasn’t come to the hospital to see him, so I wasn’t sure if he even knew what was going on.” I push my plate of food away, no longer feeling hungry now that the conversation was taking a more serious turn.

  “He probably doesn’t know,” Kate says. “None of us really speak to him. And to be honest, James, I don’t want to start.”

  “Is he that big of an ass?” I ask.

  “He just doesn’t want anything to do with us, I don’t think. And yes, he’s an ass.” Kate stops eating as well. She has this dazed look about her; she is staring off into space as though she is thinking seriously about something.

  “I know you don’t want to talk to him, but if you know where I could find him I would like to pay him a visit and let him know what’s going on.” I wait for her to respond. She just stares blankly at me as though she thinks that I’m an idiot. I just stare back at her, and it’s like we’re locked in an old fashioned staring contest.

  Finally, she releases a loud exhale. “If you want to, but I don’t think anything good is going to come out of it.” She grabs a napkin and scribbles down an address and hands it to me. “I don’t have a phone number or anything, but this is the last place I know of where he was staying.” She suddenly stands up. “I have to get back to work. Thanks again for lunch.” She leaves after only eating half of her plate, clearly having become uncomfortable talking to me.

  Looks like I’m going to be paying a visit to this Ricardo Smith character. I leave the server a decent tip and head out of the strip club and into the blinding light that is the parking lot. My driver spots me and pulls up in front of the building, and I climb into the back before he has a chance to hop out to open my door for me. “Where to, Mr. Mont?” he asks.

  “Not sure. I need to make a call. Just get us out of this parking lot. I don’t need anyone seeing me here right now,” I say, and he pulls out of the parking lot. I pull out my phone and flip the switch to pull up the privacy window so that I can have a private conversation. I call Éclair, and she answers. She always answers.

  “What now, James?” she asks, bypassing the proper hello’s and how are you’s.

  “I need a favor,” I say.

  “Oh?”

  “I am going to go meet Eddie’s dad and tell him what’s going on. I was wondering if you would go with me?” I ask.

  There is a long pause. Her tone tells me she is a little annoyed. “Why not ask that girlfriend of yours you keep telling me about? What’s her name –Sylvia?”

  I knew she was going to throw that in my face eventually. Éclair is not the jealous type, but I did make things pretty awkward the last time we had sex when I ran out like a little bitch. I had talked to her on the phone since then to tell her about Eddie’s younger brother overdosing, but that is the last we have spoken. She probably did not expect me to ask for a favor any time soon. “Look, I know I’ve pissed you off, but I need your help. Sylvia… I don’t know how she would handle something like this. You –you’re good with words. I trust you, Éclair. I don’t really know how to handle this by myself. I don’t know what to expect. You’re good with people… and you always have my back.”

  There is another long pause. I wait as patiently as I can. “Fine,” she says, “When are you going?”

  “Whenever you can,” I say.

  “All right. I have a few hours to kill. Come pick me up at my office and we can go,” she says, and I thank her before hanging up.

  I roll the privacy window down and tell my driver to head to Éclair’s office building. My driver nods, and I can tell there is a slight judgmental thought running through his head. “She’s helping me with something,” I say so he doesn’t think we’re going to get her just so I can screw around.

  “I’m sure she is, sir.” My driver says.

  Man, this guy is a real asshole. I ought to punch him in the back of the head. I lean forward and hand him the napkin that Kate had written down the address down on. “After we pick up Éclair, this is where we are headed.”

  My driver looks at the address curiously. “Um… that’s a pretty dangerous neighborhood, sir. A lot worse than the one you paid a visit to the other day to visit with Ms. Kate.”

  “I know,” I say, “But I have something to take care of.”

  “And you’re taking Ms. Éclair there?” My driver asks.

  “I am.” I say.

  “If you say so, sir.” He pulls out of the gas station’s parking lot he had parked in after leaving the strip club. We head to Éclair’s office complex, and the closer we get the more nervous I become. I hope she can help me come up with something to say when I talk to Eddies’ biological father.

  52

  I think I’m standing outside of a crack house. Éclair shifts uncomfortably next to me as we stand at the edge of the property line just as my driver pulls off –not willing to stay in one place driving such a nice car in this area. The two of us stick out of the crowd: Éclair in her tight, black business skirt and sleek white business jacket with her hair pulled up in a tight, professional looking bun and me in my gray suit and blue tie wearing a Rolex like a dumbass –that shit is bound to get the two of us jumped. Speak of the devil…

  This punk kid wearing an oversized t-shirt and a bandana on his head comes walking up to us, his eyes on Éclair. “Hey sexy, what are you doing out here? You look like you’re a little far from home.” He whistles, and I’m ready to knock the kid in the face –but I know better. Éclair would bitch me out later if I dared overstep my bounds. She’s got this.

  “Walk away.” She hisses, staring at the kid from under her designer sunglasses.

  “Hey, bitch,” he says, “I’m just trying to be friendly.” His eyes dart at her Prada bag and he puts his hand in his pocket, whipping out a damn switchblade. “But if you don’t want to be friendly-”

  I’m sure he had some clever line worked up for us, but he does not have a chance to spit it out before Éclair has a damn pistol pointed in the kid’s face. The kid jolts back and trips over the metal trash bens sitting out on the curb. He jumps up, and he’s gone in a matter of seconds. “What the hell, Éclair? Since when do you have a fucking gun?” I ask. It’s silver and pink, of course.

  She places the gun back in her little purse and huffs at me. “You never know.” She says and starts towards the house, and I follow.

  I nervously knock on the door, and I can hear movement from within the house. Éclair touches my shoulder and points over towards the side of the house where there are about twelve Harley’s chained up. I start to get nervous about whatever it is we are walking in to. The door flings open and this short guy in a leather jacket answers, a beer in one hand. The guy looks us up and down and says, “Something tells me you two aren’t the pizza delivery guys. What the fuck do you want?”

  “We’re looking for Ricardo Smith,” Éclair says because I’ve suddenly gotten tongue-tied.

  “Oh yeah?” this guy is not even shy about staring at Éclair. He takes a swig of his beer. “And who exactly are you to him?”

  “I’m… friends with his son,” I say, not wanting to explain all the details. “Is he here?”

  “You’re friends with Tommy?” the guys asks.

  Who the fuck is Tommy? I frown. “No. I’m friends with Eddie.”

  “Oh. That one.” The guy grunts and opens the door. “Yeah, come on in. He’s here. Who are you two anyways? Your names, I mean?” he leads us inside, and we follow close behind.

  “I’m James. This is Éclair.” I say as we turn the corner into a sort of game room where a bunch of biker types are playing pool and drinking.

  The guy who had answered t
he door looks around. He grunts and looks straight at one of the younger guys in the group. “Hey, yo, Tommy, where’s your daddy at?”

  I cringe. Is one of Eddie’s siblings here? I look up and see this guy coming around from the other side of the pool table, beer in one hand and pool stick in the other. Holy shit. He could be Eddie’s twin. With the greasy look, the leather jacket, and the big black boots he almost looks like he could play Eddie’s evil twin in a movie. The guy looks dead at me. “Holy fuck,” the guy, Tommy, says and laughs, “You’re James, aren’t you?” he laughs. “Eddie’s brother.”

  The guy who had brought us inside laughs and goes to find himself a seat as though we have suddenly become a side-show attraction. “Um… yeah.” I say, “That’s me. And are you one of Eddie’s brothers?”

  “Yeah. Hold on, I’ll go get the old man. This shit should be good.” He walks off laughing like he just cannot wait to see what is about to happen.

  Éclair stands close to me, her arms crossed in front of her. I can’t tell is she is scared of our current predicament or if she is just analyzing the room. Probably the second of the two. It takes a lot to scare her. After a minute or two this man comes walking out of a back room. Much like the others, he is dressed in full biker gear. His head is shaved, and he’s got a damn swastika tattoo on the side of his head like a jackass. In the face, though, I can tell that this guy is Eddie’s father.

  “Holy shit,” Éclair whispers to me, “Your mama fucked that guy.”

  “I will fucking kill you.” I warn her.

  “Ricardo Smith?” I ask once he is standing toe to toe with me.

  The guy nods and waves his hand, “Come on. I’m sure you’re here to talk about Eddie. Better to do that without a bunch of prying ears.” He heads back into the back room where he had come from, so Éclair and I follow.

  We enter into a den setting where a worn out couch, a single beanbag chair, a couple of wooden stools, and a television make up pretty much the entire room. Tommy is seated on the bean bag, and he pops open a cooler when Éclair and I sit down. “You two want a beer?” he asks, and we both politely decline.