Billionaire Romance Box Set: The Billionaire's Legacy: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Box Set

by Sarah J. Brooks

  “However, this young woman has caused you some trouble. Mavin Toller, for example, has crawled out of the woodwork. Do you know of Mavin Toller?”

  “No, Sir,” I said. “I know of him by name only. From…” I stopped, not wanting to say Cassie’s name.

  “From Cassandra Young, yes, I’m aware. I’m also aware of an NCA agent that lost his life in the presence of your young friend. They were close, weren’t they?”

  I exhaled deeply but quietly. “They were acquainted professionally,” I said. “Agent Shim was investigating me and was questioning Cassie to get more information about me. Information she never gave him.”

  “Right, because he had that unfortunate accident.” Manuel reached out and ran his fingertip along the metal of the chain link fence. “Unfortunate. Accident.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I wanted to meet with you today, Mr. White, to tell you to keep your eyes centered and forward. I’m uncomfortable with the amount of distractions coming into your life: young women, exploding NCA agents, competitors of mine…”

  “I’m not distracted, Sir,” I said. “I brought Cassie here only to keep her safe. Mavin Toller has abducted her once, and he’s now killed an agent. I can protect her.”

  A snicker escaped Manuel Brown’s lips. “Yes, you’re so well equipped to protect your loved ones. She’s in capable hands, I’m sure.”

  I fell silent once again. Each time I opened my mouth to speak, I knew I was risking Antoine’s life, Cassie’s life, and possibly my own life.

  “I’m not worried about Mavin Toller,” Manuel said. “Mavin Toller is an ant. I’m a giant holding a magnifying glass. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I said.

  “So, put Mavin Toller out of your mind. Mavin Toller is not a concern to you. He pulled his hand away from the chain link and looked at me. “Mr. White,” he said, and I turned to look at him. “Stay focused. Remember why you began this. It wasn’t for pussy. Distractions, if they’re not eliminated, can undermine the best of men. Either you eliminate her, or someone else will.”

  He turned and walked back to the town car. The door opened, he entered it, and I watched until his leg disappeared and the door closed. The car drove away, and then, and only then, did Simon step out of the car, pocketing his pistol as he did so.

  “He didn’t look happy,” Simon said.

  “No,” I agreed. “He sure didn’t. I have to get back to Cassie; we have to get out of here.”

  Cassie

  We returned to Florence on our last night in Morocco at my request. I couldn’t stand one more night in the hotel, and I’d actually had a good time at Florence the first time we’d gone there.

  We arrived at eight o’clock, Brad in his tuxedo and me in an emerald green evening gown that Brad had, as he’d taken to doing, picked out for me. This was a particular favorite: it accentuated my curves and made my hair look even more fiery than it did on a normal day. I took a small amount of pleasure in stepping away from the computer and my research to don a black lace g-string, black silk stockings, and a corset-style bra that pressed my breasts together and up, creating a shelf of cleavage I knew Brad would want to eat right along with his appetizer.

  I wasn’t wrong. He took one look at me and took me into his arms. I felt stress melt out of his body as he held me, kissing my neck and moving his tongue down my neck to the rise of my breasts.

  “Easy there, killer,” I murmured. “I want to at least show this dress off for a while before you tear it off of me.”

  “I will be tearing it off of you,” Brad said, smiling as he returned his lips to my ear, nuzzling his nose against my ear lobe.

  “I expect nothing less,” I said. “Now let’s get going.”

  We had the same table that we’d had the earlier night. Each table at Florence was a separate room with a private server. The room contained a traditional table with a u-shaped booth, but it also contained a couch with a table, a large screen television, a fully stocked bar, and a luxurious fireplace. Patrons could sit at the table or move around the room as they wished. Brad and I began at the table.

  Our server, a young Moroccan woman who kept her eyes down yet managed to be remarkably attentive, brought a bottle of wine that Brad approved and that tasted like a dream.

  The first course arrived, and Brad and I settled in.

  “No business tonight,” I said when he opened his mouth to speak. “I want to be a normal couple tonight. Can we do that?”

  “A normal couple?” he asked, smiling. “What on earth is that?”

  I shook my head. “A normal couple might do something like this.” I took the glass of wine out of his hand, drew my hand to his upper thigh, and kissed him. His lips tasted like wine, and I sucked them lightly, then smiled as I felt his cock hardening against my hand.

  “You keep doing that, and we’ll be a normal couple that gets arrested for indecent exposure,” he joked. That would never happen in a place like this, and I knew it. These rooms were private, I realized, precisely because of all of the things that went on behind the closed, private doors. Sex was probably the least of what went on.

  “Ah, okay,” I said. “Hands off, then, I got it.” I pulled my hand away and crossed my arms across my chest. Doing so pressed my breasts up, and I watched Brad’s eyes hunger as he looked at them, at me.

  “Not so fast,” he said, pulling my arms apart and leaning in to kiss me.

  The door opened, and I began to pull away, but Brad pulled me back to him more tightly. I looked out of one eye and realized that our server kept her eyes down for modesty, for our privacy. She saw nothing, she heard nothing… even when she did.

  I also realized that Brad and I were far from a normal couple. A normal couple… that, we would never be. I also realized I was okay with that. I pressed my breasts to Brad’s chest, and he groaned, feeling the fullness of me against his broad, strong frame.

  “If we keep going like this,” I whispered, “we’re never going to get our meal eaten.”

  “Are you hungry?” Brad pulled back from me suddenly and gazed at me, a look of concern on his face. “If you’re hungry, we can get food right away. Real food, we’ll get rid of these appetizers.” He waved at the sushi, bread, and olives as if they were nothing.

  “Chill the fuck out,” I said, “and come with me to that couch.”

  I led Brad to the couch and I laid down, beginning to pull Brad on top of me.

  “One minute,” he said, and he stood up and walked to the door. He picked a red card from a sleeve on the back of the door, opened the door, and slipped the card into another sleeve on the opposite side. He turned and began walking back to me. “That’s to let our server know that we’re not to be disturbed,” he said.

  I held out my arms to him and he dove onto me, kissing my neck and beginning to tug at my dress.

  “Careful!” I scolded, giggling, “You’ll tear my dress!”

  “I’ll have another one delivered by dessert,” he growled. “You are so fucking hot.” He sat up over me and pulled off his tuxedo jacket and shirt, then yanked off his belt and slipped out of his pants. I watched hungrily as his flesh appeared more and more before me.

  I sat up and began to unzip my dress behind me. He snapped his fingers and I arched my eyebrow at his non-verbal command, but I knew exactly what he wanted. I sat up and turned, my back to him, and he unzipped my dress. Rather than turn back around, I got to my hands and knees on the couch. My breasts spilled over the corset bra, and I watched him take in my ass and thighs. I knew the g-string was already wet with my arousal, and I moved to inch down the thigh high stockings.

  “Leave them on,” he said. “You are too good to me.” He lightly slapped my ass and I felt a surge of energy push through me; my clit throbbed in wanting. I arched my back, lifting my ass toward him. He took my hips in his hands and began to rub his hard cock between my legs. He pressed me down toward the couch, his hand in the center of my back, and I complied, dropping
onto my forearms.

  He entered me suddenly and I gasped, my body ready and wanting, yet not daring to hope for such immediate satisfaction. He began to thrust, stabilizing himself by gripping my hips and back. The sound of his quads against my hamstrings, a regular, slapping sound, made me wetter, made me call out his name.

  “Brad, fuck, fuck that feels so good,” I gasped. The words ran together in one breath, and I braced myself harder against the couch.

  He grunted in response, thrusting harder against me as he stood on his knees. I could tell he felt powerful in this position; his cock was nearly bursting in length and girth, and he slid in and out of me so easily I clenched my vaginal muscles to cling to him each time he entered.

  “Oh, fuck, Cassie!” he called out as he came in a surge of pressure, his cum pressing into me, his hand slapping my ass lightly but with intention, the crack of his palm creating heat on my ass that drove straight to my clit and pushed me to my own orgasm. I cried out louder than I meant to, and was grateful for the fabric of the couch cushion and its ability to muffle my noise. Though, I knew that Brad liked me to be loud… I cried out again.

  ***

  I woke up the next day with a delicious hangover and the sensation that I had been deliciously fucked. I got up and put on my robe, turned on the coffee, and saw a note on the counter from Brad.

  “Ran to a quick meeting down the street. Be back in time for breakfast. Maybe like dinner last night?”

  I blushed, grabbed my laptop, and walked out onto the patio. I took a moment to gaze out over the balcony to the street below. It was a week day, and the streets were filled with people on their way to work, meetings, social occasions. It was just another day in the life.

  Then, I saw Brad. He was standing on the corner nearest to the hotel, and he was talking to someone. My body tensed immediately as I realized that he was upset. His gestures were animated, and his body was jerking with a nervous energy. I strained to see whoever he was talking to, but the man’s face—I was convinced it was a man—was hidden. I stood, watching, as the man, who had appeared calm at first, began to mirror Brad in his stress and energy. I looked around to see if anyone else was noticing the confrontation.

  “Hey!” I yelled over the balcony, but it was too far down for either man to hear me. I ran to grab my phone and I quickly texted Brad.

  Are you okay???

  I watched as he took out his phone and looked at it. He turned to look up at the balcony and, for a moment, my eyes were locked on his. Then, I turned my gaze to the man he was talking to, who had looked up along with Brad.

  My stomach fell and I felt my hand move involuntarily to cover my mouth. The hair, eyes, the stocky build… Brad was standing on the street in a confrontation with Mavin Toller. The man responsible for my abduction. And… he had seen me. He knew I was in Morocco with Brad, and he knew which balcony was mine.

  I dropped down from view, my breath ragged and my heart pounding in my chest. I gripped my phone and wished I was in America, wished I could just call 911 and make this all go away. Wished more than anything that Patrick was there to protect me. But, Brad. Brad had sworn he was there to protect me, and he had promised to tell me what was going on with his past.

  Did his past include Mavin Toller? And, if it did, how closely, exactly, were the two connected?

  My phone buzzed in my hand. I looked down and saw Brad’s name. I took a deep breath and slid my phone to unlock to read his message.

  Cassie

  Brad’s text seemed to take up the entire screen on my phone. It was one word:

  Run.

  I ran. I was in my robe, so I quickly threw on jeans and the first shirt I could find, which happened to be a dark green henley that belonged to Brad. I grabbed my purse, shoved my feet into shoes, and opened the door. I started to run toward the elevator, but I realized that, whatever danger I was in, I’d have a better shot of avoiding it if I stayed out of the confines of the elevator. I ran down the hall, listening for the ding of the elevator or the click of a door, until I got to the stairwell. I opened the door and pulled it closed behind me. I tried to listen for any sounds in the stairwell, but my breath was ragged and my heartbeat sounded like fireworks in my ears. I forced myself to close my eyes, slow my breath down, and listen.

  I slowly made my way down the stairs, alert as an eagle, trying to listen for even the smallest sound. The stairwell doors were open into the stairwell, but in order to get out of the stairwell, a key was needed to unlock the door at any level. Brad had explained this security measure to me some time ago; it was designed to trap anyone trying to make a quick getaway from a room. I tried to not think about the irony, and, instead, gripped the key card in my hand so hard I felt it cutting into my palm and fingers with each step I took.

  The walk to the street level, the emergency exit door, was probably a two minute walk by normal standards; today it felt like it took ten years. When I finally burst through the door, completely oblivious to the sound of the emergency alarm that began to ring throughout the hotel, I ran to my right only because it was the opposite direction I’d seen Brad talking to Mavin Toller. I ran until I felt like my heart was going to explode in my chest, until my lungs were pulsing so hard with each breath they seemed to stretch my rib cage. I stopped and looked all around me for any movement, anything that seemed out of the ordinary. My instincts were fired up to full capacity, and I could practically hear the sensations as they buzzed through me.

  I had run to a fairly deserted part of town, and I realized I was closer to the port than I’d ever been before. In a lot of ways, this was probably the safest place—from Mavin Toller. In other ways, though, I was not safe. The port was a notoriously high crime area, and one that Brad had always told me to say away from, even during the daytime.

  But, desperate times called for desperate measures, and there would never be time that qualified more as “desperate.” I began to try to find ways to blend in. I slowed to a walk, stopping to look around and continue to be fully aware of my surroundings and stay one step ahead of any danger that might come my way. I realized I still had my key card and my phone in my hand. I tucked them into my purse, glancing at my phone to see if Brad had texted. He hadn’t.

  Brad. A brief shock of fear went through me as I thought of him standing on the street with the man who had abducted me. They were standing out in the open… surely if Mavin Toller attacked Brad, someone would do something to stop it. Of course, I remembered, I’d been abducted in the middle of the day in a busy restaurant, and no one had seen a thing. Mavin Toller knew how to attack subtly and quickly.

  I shook my head and continued to walk. I walked along a retaining wall that protected part of the port from the waves below. Stacked several high in neat rows were row boats, but not silver metal or brown wood like most were in the United States; these boats were colored brightly: blue, pink, lavender. Under any other circumstances, they would have made the perfect photograph for Destinations, with a captivating article written by me on the prospects of Casablanca as a tourist destination.

  I began, automatically, to write the copy in my head, but I stopped when I realized what I was doing. A lump formed in my throat as I began to think, in what seemed to be becoming a daily occurrence, about everything that had changed in my life the day I’d met Brad. Would I give him up to go back again? I didn’t know.

  I took my phone out as I stood near the boats, my back to the ocean, watching for any flickers of movement. Nothing from Brad. I texted him.

  Where are you??

  I waited a moment for an answer, then I began to text Simon. I didn’t know what to say, so I clicked out of my texting app and called him. He answered right away.

  “Cassie? What a surprise. What’s wrong?”

  “Is Brad with you?” I blurted out.

  “What happened?” Simon’s voice, serious anyway, took on an even more somber tone. “Where are you? Are you safe?”

  “I’m safe,” I said. “He’s not with you
—” I tried to finish my sentence, but too many thoughts, all of them bad, flooded my mind. The weight of them nearly buckled my knees.

  “Where are you, Cassie? I’ll come and get you.”

  I got my wits back and everything I knew fell out of my mouth in one breath. “Brad is in danger,” I said. “He was on the street, I was looking out the window, and I saw him, he was talking to a man, and I didn’t know who it was right away, so I wasn’t worried, you know? But then the man looked up at me, and I saw that it was Mavin Toller, who is the man who abducted me, and is probably the man who killed Patrick, and now he has Brad, somewhere? Or Brad got away? I don’t know, because Brad texted me and told me to run, so I did. I ran down the stairs and out onto the street and I found my way here by the boats.” And I stopped. I paused; I’d run out of words.

  Simon was silent on the other end of the phone. I could tell he was taking it all in, and, because I was getting to know him fairly well, I could almost see him. He was probably standing in his suite, looking out his window and down at the street, wondering if that was the street where Brad and Mavin had stood, wondering if he could have seen them and stopped their interaction. He likely had his fingers of one hand pressing into his temples and, once he stopped looking at the street, his eyes would be closed.

  “I’m coming to get you right now,” he said. “It’ll take me five minutes to get to the port are. Where are you? What’s around you?”

  I told him about the boats, and I described a building nearby that I assumed was for fishermen.

  We hung up, and I sat near the boats, keeping a watchful eye on everything around me. I could taste the salt in the air, and the breeze coming off of the water was a cool reprieve from the air temperature around me. I ran my fingers along the asphalt beneath me; it was covered with sand from the beach, dragged up onto the platform by the boats and feet of the fishermen.

  I tuned into the sound of a motor breaking through the white noise around me, and I became alert immediately. I realized I would be vulnerable for at least a few moments. I assumed the motor belonged to Simon’s car—but I could be wrong. I felt anxiety surge through me with thoughts of Mavin Toller driving toward me with Brad tied up in the back seat, or, I shuddered involuntarily, in the trunk. I tried to resist my urge to hide, but it won out in the end, and I ducked behind a stack of the row boats. I didn’t know how visible I was; I felt completely open and naked, though I knew that couldn’t possibly be.