Bound to the Billionaire

by Natalie Dae

  “The bathroom is here,” Dean said, opening a door on the opposite side of the room.

  Shaking off the desire to sprawl out on that huge bed, I crossed to the bathroom, which was as big as my apartment’s bedroom and had a bath, a shower, and a huge mirror stretching across one wall from ceiling to halfway down the wall.

  Nice, if you could afford it.

  I crossed to the window—which was made of rippled glass for privacy—and pulled the cord to snap the wooden blind shut. “Okay. I officially declare it safe for you to shower.”

  “Thanks,” Dean said wryly, and stepped into the bathroom. Despite its size, he was standing close enough to the door that I had to brush past him to leave the room. He smiled, and I fought back the urge to grab his head and pull it down to kiss him.

  Once I was safely past him and into the bedroom, I told him, “Just so we’re clear, if you walk out of this bathroom naked, I’ll be filing a sexual harassment charge with my boss.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Fair enough. And if you claim to hear sounds of violence and burst into the bathroom while I’m in the shower, just to get the chance to see me naked, I’ll be in touch with your boss for the same reason.”

  I wanted to slap him, but was amused at the same time. “Deal.”

  He returned my reluctant smile with a small grin of his own and politely shut the door in my face, leaving me alone in his bedroom.

  I switched the microphone clipped to my shirt’s collar back on for long enough to let Peter, who was still outside the mansion, know my location and what was going on. Then I put on the brighter lights of the wall sconces and switched off the lamp I’d turned on earlier.

  Inside the bathroom, I heard the sound of cascading water as Dean presumably switched on the shower. “Oh, boy,” I murmured to myself, trying not to imagine him stripping off his clothing and stepping under the spray.

  I paced the room to try to distract myself, but the scene playing out on the other side of the door was just too good not to fantasise about. I didn’t know for sure what his body looked like under the casual shirt and jeans he’d been wearing, but I was willing to bet there was a private gym somewhere in this mansion, and that he used it just enough to give his muscles some definition.

  As I imagined the water running down his firm biceps and taut abs, my pussy tingled. God, I’m a drooling mess today. “Focus,” I reminded myself, touching the gun strapped to my hip to remind myself that I was on duty. Not that I really needed it—the Kevlar vest I had to wear on the job wasn’t exactly sexy, though my nipples were pressing hard against it.

  While the shower water pattered on, I wandered around the bedroom, trying to resist the urge to look in the drawers and the closets.

  I wondered what I would find hidden in Dean’s closets, but I wasn’t stupid enough to peek. It would mean my job if he found me, and in any case, the fantasy was probably sexier than the reality.

  Speaking of fantasy… I idly wondered if Dean would cancel his business meeting if I stripped off my clothing and slid beneath the sheets of that huge bed. I really liked to fantasise when I masturbated, and I had a feeling I’d get more than a few incredible orgasms out of that particular fictional scenario.

  The shower shut off, and I tore my gaze from the bed, hoping I wasn’t blushing.

  A couple of minutes later, Dean emerged…wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer shorts.

  Oh, my God…

  He responded to the look on my face—which I was sure must be hilarious to an observer—with an innocent smile. “I’m not naked.”

  I took a moment to admire his toned body, which was just as luscious as I’d fantasised about when I’d been alone, while Dean crossed to the closet across the room. There were a few stray droplets of water clinging to his skin, and I longed to collect each one with my tongue.

  I had to get out of here, or I’d probably say or do something my mind would regret later, though I was pretty sure my body would be overjoyed with whatever it was. “I’ll be outside the door if you need me.”

  Not allowing myself the final glance I was desperate to take, I left the room, shutting the door to cut out the sound of his quiet laughter. Out in the hallway, I scowled at the door as if I could beam my ire right through it to the other side.

  “Jerk,” I muttered aloud. Sexy, arrogant, hotter than lava jerk…

  It took me a few minutes to become less flustered. I’d been horny enough before he’d given me a show. I slowly pulled my mind back to the job at hand, checking in with Peter through the radio system, then soaking up the stillness of the hallway.

  When Dean opened the door again, he was dressed, but the clothing he’d pulled on didn’t do much to keep me calm and composed. He was all in black—the jeans he was wearing were just tight enough to hint that his cock was larger than average, and his button-down shirt was unfastened over a form-fitting T-shirt. He looked amazing, and his freshly showered scent wasn’t helping me to keep my mind on my surroundings.

  “I apologise for that, Mia. It was unprofessional of me.”

  I guessed he was referring to his ‘not naked’ state a few minutes ago. Oh, really? You think so?

  I nodded, keeping my own less-than-professional thoughts to myself. “No offence taken.”

  He smiled and picked up a long sports bag from the bed, slinging it onto his shoulder. It didn’t look as if it weighed much, so why didn’t he use a smaller bag? Exactly what was in there?

  Dean noticed my curiosity, I could tell, but he ignored it. “I have some paperwork I need to look over one more time before we leave.”

  I gestured for him to lead the way, then followed him downstairs again, wondering if I should ask Peter to switch places with me until it was time to get to the club. I was so easily distracted by my ‘eye candy’ client that I had serious doubts about my ability to keep my eyes peeled for danger.

  Rick would never let me hear the end of it, though. I was just gonna have to pull it together.

  * * * *

  I’d been in my fair share of limos. It came with the territory, since the majority of people who needed bodyguards were either famous or just insanely rich. Being in a limo with Dean Tremaine and his mysterious sports bag, though, was more interesting than any of the other limo rides I’d taken.

  As the chauffeur turned the limo onto the main road, I gave in to my curiosity. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Go ahead,” Dean said.

  “What’s in the bag?”

  He gave me a slow smile that would have melted a lesser woman into mush. Me? I just got butterflies. The mush would come later, when I was alone and curled up in a bubble bath.

  For a second I thought he was going to ignore the question, but he answered cryptically, “A few essentials.”

  “For a business meeting?”

  “Are you asking out of professional or personal curiosity, Mia?” There was just something about the way he said my name that made me inwardly swoon.

  “Both,” I admitted.

  He regarded me for a moment, as if trying to work out if I was holding something back. “You do know where we’re going tonight, don’t you?”

  “I hear it’s a nightclub on Miller Street.”

  He raised both eyebrows as if genuinely surprised. “That’s…true enough.”

  Oh, God, I’m going to kill Rick when I see him. What didn’t he tell me?

  “I’d really appreciate it if you could fill me in on the specifics,” I said carefully, trying not to look panicked.

  Dean grinned. “I think it’ll be more fun to let you see for yourself.”

  I wanted to make a grab for that sports bag and see what was inside, but remained still with an effort. Racking my brains to try to figure out what kind of club we were going to, I landed on the only possible solution and groaned. “We’re going to a strip club, aren’t we?”

  “No. Nothing so mundane.” His tone was so decisive that I couldn’t help but believe him. “Is that really what yo
u think I’m like? I’m not your average misogynistic businessman.”

  “Okay…” I let out a relieved breath, but was back to square one where our destination was concerned. What other kind of club could it be?

  Ten minutes later, the limo glided to a stop outside a nondescript building with the name ‘SubVerted’ on it. I asked Dean to stay put for a second, then slid out of the car to meet Rick, who was lounging in the doorway looking pleased with himself.

  It was suddenly all too clear what kind of long object Dean was carrying in his sports bag—the name of the club said it all.

  We had just arrived at a fetish club.

  Chapter Three

  “How could you do this to me?” I hissed at Rick.

  “Hey, it was funny. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” He looked past me to the limo, then grinned. “You have a crush on him, don’t you?”

  I wanted to punch him—partly because he was a grade-A prick, and partly because he was right.

  “No, I don’t have a crush on him. I just hate looking uninformed and easily shocked in front of a client. It’s unprofessional.”

  Rick didn’t look convinced, but he let the subject slide. “Everyone who’s made it in is on the guest list, and there’ve been no staff changes so they’ve all been vetted. Inside should be safe, so all we need to do is get him in there, stay vigilant for however long he stays and get him out again.”

  Talking business made it easier for me to keep a civil tongue in my head. “Right. The umbrella method?”

  Rick took two huge golfing umbrellas from just inside the doorway of the club and nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Before I turned back to the limo, I made sure I was tuned in to our standard communication frequency. Then I returned to the limo and sat down with one leg out of the door. “Okay, here’s how we’re going to do it…”

  If Dean was surprised by the plan, he didn’t show it. Maybe he’d been guarded from potential sniper attacks before.

  I got back out of the car and took the umbrella Rick handed me. We opened them in different directions, then I beckoned Dean to step out of the limo. As he did, Rick and I made an umbrella shield around his head and upper body. The size of the umbrellas protected both of us and our client at the back and on both sides, and only left Dean vulnerable at the front—which was where the club was.

  The three of us walked quickly to the entrance. Of course, a sniper could hit one of us in the leg and hope our defences would fall enough that Dean’s head or torso became a viable target…but it hadn’t happened on my watch. Yet.

  “Ever feel like there’s a target painted on your head?” Dean asked, his voice slightly strained.

  “Only every day I’m on the job.” I guided him through the entrance, exchanged a quick nod with Rick as I handed off my umbrella, then turned to face the club’s inner entryway, breathing a sigh of relief. With any luck, the only other tricky part would be getting Dean back out at the end of the night.

  The billionaire shot me a curious glance. “Then why do it?”

  I wasn’t about to get into that with him, so I shrugged. “Pays well.”

  He stared at me for a long moment, as if he could see past my defences to my real motive for picking this profession. But that was ridiculous. He didn’t know me. He couldn’t know I needed the adrenaline kick to feel alive. Perversely enough, some days I actually hoped I’d get shot. Those days used to be rare, but they were getting more frequent.

  He offered me his arm as I shook off the morbid thoughts, and I actually felt bad that I couldn’t take it. “Sorry. I need to have both arms free in case something happens.”

  “Of course.” Dean nodded and took a step forward. “Shall we, then?”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Dean greeted the woman in the cloakroom and handed over his sports bag without taking a ticket or paying the charge. Why is it that the ones most able to pay for things get away with not paying anything at all?

  After that brief stop, he hesitated and glanced at me. “I should warn you, there’ll probably be partial nudity going on tonight.”

  All my exasperation at Rick and at the situation bubbled up to the surface again, and I raised the tiny clip-on microphone to my lips so he’d have no chance of missing my sarcastic retort. “See, this is exactly why I wish someone had told me beforehand where we’d be going. I could have worn my see-through Kevlar vest and been right at home!”

  Rick laughed raucously through my earpiece, but it was Dean’s expression that made me shiver with desire. It was dimly lit in the hallway, so I wasn’t sure, but I could have sworn there was attraction in his dark eyes, as if the chance to see me in see-through Kevlar—if there even was such a thing—would be entirely welcomed.

  Glad he couldn’t see the way my nipples reacted to that idea, I cleared my throat and put my hand on one of the double doors ahead of us. “Through here?”

  Dean nodded, and I pushed through the door, ready to sweep my gaze over the area on the other side to assess for threats and potential cover if things should go wrong.

  It didn’t quite work out that way, though. How could I focus on the big picture when there was so much worth staring at?

  To my right, just inside the doors, was a row of five cages tall enough to stand up in and narrow enough to restrict movement beyond a step in each direction. Four of them already contained occupants, women and men in various states of undress from a full maid’s uniform—that was one of the guys—to just a tiny thong. One girl was blindfolded, another cuffed to the cage by wrists and ankles, her naked breasts pressing against the bars. As I watched, a leather-clad man led a barefoot girl, who was covered with tattoos and wearing a rubber bikini, up to the only empty cage and guided her inside.

  To my left was the bar and seating area with tables, chairs and comfortable couches where people lounged, talking. A sign above the bar stated that soft drinks only were available on fetish nights. I wondered briefly what other kinds of nights there could possibly be in a place like this.

  Straight ahead was an archway into a room like no other I’d ever seen. Even without going in, I could tell it was a large space littered with pieces of dungeon furniture, to which scantily-clad people were tied or cuffed. I spotted more than one bare ass in the two seconds I allowed myself, before I forced myself to stop staring.

  “I take it you’ve never been in a place like this before?” Dean asked, leaning in close to my ear even though the music was at a tolerable level.

  I closed my eyes despite myself at the feel of his breath upon my skin, then snapped myself back into alertness. “Can’t say that I have.”

  “There’s nothing like it. No one judges anyone else for their kinks and fantasies… It’s a great place to take part or just watch.”

  “Is that what your sports bag is for?” I said. “So you can take part? Do you even have a business meeting, or was that all just bullshit so you can get your kink on?”

  “I own this place,” Dean said lightly. “There’ll be a meeting, but I see no reason to hurry off afterwards if your people have done their jobs.”

  “Are you going to tie someone up, or be tied?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  He stepped in even closer, if that was possible. “What do you think, Mia?”

  I couldn’t help but fall under his spell just a little. There was no question in my mind which role Dean liked to fill in an interaction like the ones going on all around us. Even if he hadn’t admitted to me earlier that he found it difficult to take orders, the predatory look in his eyes now was enough to convince me that this guy was all Dom.

  Before I could answer, Dean stepped away from me, leaving my pulse pounding through my wet pussy. “The meeting’s in ten minutes. This way.”

  From the next room, I heard a volley of slaps—unmistakeably some kind of implement hitting flesh—followed by a cry that sounded so painfully sexual that I wanted to moan in response.

  “Ge
t it together,” I muttered to myself, overtaking Dean to go upstairs before him—as if there’d be someone crouched at the top, ready to assassinate him. I was reasonably sure there was no way the club could be compromised, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

  Upstairs, there were more faint sounds of strikes and moans, coming from behind closed doors along the hallway. “Private play spaces,” Dean explained, and I nodded as if I’d known it all along.

  I was surprised when he opened one of the doors, but I motioned him back so I could check the room before letting him enter. Once I’d determined it was empty, I glanced at him. “This is where you’re having your meeting?”

  He grinned. “Does it look like the kind of place with a boardroom?”

  I had to admit he had a point, and stepped back to let Dean enter before following and shutting the door behind us.

  “Lock it as well, if it’ll make your job easier.”

  I twisted the lock—much like one on the inside of a hotel room—and leaned against the wall next to the door.

  “Come and sit down.”

  “We’ve been over this, remember? I’m on the clock. I don’t get to sit down.”

  Dean sat on the wipe-clean couch—classy—and beckoned. “The door’s locked. There are no windows in this room. I don’t see the problem with letting yourself relax for a few minutes.”

  I wanted to sit beside him so badly, but I knew that if I did, things would start getting out of hand. Some inner sense told me he wouldn’t have told me to lock the door unless he planned something that would put me so off guard I’d be incapable of doing my job. Something like… No. Don’t go there.

  I looked around the room again at the couch, the bed—probably wipe-clean under the sheets—the hooks suspended from the ceiling, the bench-like piece of equipment that seemed the perfect height for someone to bend over… Anywhere but at Dean.

  “Do you ever do what you’re told?” he asked, with a slight edge to his voice.