by Ivy Layne
"What's wrong?" Jacob asked, his sharp eyes pulling apart my facade. The instinctive protest that nothing was wrong jumped to my lips. I beat it back. Ridiculous to say nothing was wrong when everything was wrong.
"I'm in some trouble." I sat up straighter, tugging on the hem of my dress. It was just a hair shorter than it should be, making it an alluring combination of classy and sexy. I'd worn it hoping it would sway Jacob in my favor. Now that I was sitting here in front of him, the amount of leg the cream linen exposed made me feel more vulnerable than confident.
"Do you know why I married John?" I asked, deciding to get straight to the point. It was a long story and he’d only given me fifteen minutes. Jacob sat back in his chair and shook his head.
"I'd always wondered. You never seemed like a good fit to me."
It was funny that Jacob would say that. Everyone else seemed to think we were the perfect fit. Me the sweet, spoiled banker's daughter and John the son of one of our small town's most powerful men. His family hadn't exactly been above board, but John was supposed to change all that. Marriage to me had cemented the image that his family was moving in more legitimate directions. Shortly after our wedding, he'd been invited to join the country club. In the beginning I'd taken over for my mother as a lady who lunched. No one had seen beneath the surface, because we hadn't let them.
"No," I said. "We really weren't." Taking a breath, I prepared for the confession I had to make. Five years later and I was still ashamed of what I'd done. "When I was sixteen, my mother began to develop early onset Altzheimers. By the time I graduated high-school she needed round-the-clock care. The summer after my sophomore year in college, my father had a fatal heart attack."
"I'm sorry." Jacob leaned forward, compassion warming his demeanor. "That must have been very difficult for you at such a young age." I let out a bitter laugh, the harsh, short sound completely unlike the careful image I'd cultivated over the past few years.
"It would have been easier if I hadn't discovered that my father had lost everything he owned. The only miracle was that he'd kept everything at the bank clean. I don't know what I would have done if I'd had to pay them restitution.”
"So you had nothing?"
"Nothing. The house, cars, artwork, my mother's jewelry. My grandmother's engagements rings. It was all sold. If it had just been me, I could have handled it."
"Your mother," he said. "I take it there wasn't any insurance to cover her care?"
"No. My father had her in an excellent facility by that time, but it was too expensive for me to handle on my own. And I wasn't qualified for the kind of job that could cover the bills and pay my rent. If I’d brought her home with me, I couldn't have gone out to work. I was trapped. And terrified."
"Let me guess, John walked in with the solution?"
I should have known Jacob would grasp the situation with a minimum of explanation. He might have lived and worked in the city an hour from our small country town, but he made it his business to know everything about the people he did business with. And he knew all he needed to know about the Jordan family. Far more than I had when I'd married John.
I'd grown up the sheltered, indulged daughter of our town's two leading citizens. I wasn't one of those privileged little snots that looked down on the rest of the world for not having the newest cars and clothes. My mother had, along with lunching at the country club, spent much of her time volunteering in our community. She'd taken me with her to food drives and literacy clinics, always wanting to make sure I understood how fortunate I was, and in my good fortune to remember to take care of those with less. While she'd managed to instill a sense of humility in me, my upbringing had not prepared me for the various ways life could turn ugly.
I knew about John's family. His father, Big John, was spoken of with respect and awe. Not the same kind of respect people had used when they’d spoken of my father. This was tinged with fear and a vague threat. I was never quite clear on what Big John did, or didn't do, to earn this type of regard. As far as I knew, he owned a plumbing supply company on the edge of town. When I asked, my father had told me it wasn't anything I needed to know. By the time I was in high school, I had the idea that some of Big John's enterprises weren't quite legal. But I hadn’t understood what that meant. Not really. Not until it was too late.
“Yes.” I straightened in the chair, as if correcting my posture could pull the shreds of my dignity together. “He offered to marry me. He was just back from college, ready to settle down and he said he’d always had his eye on me. He said that if we got married, he’d take over my mother’s care. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Like a lamb moving in with the wolves,” Jacob commented, a wry smile on his face. “You had no idea what you were marrying into, did you?”
“None.” I looked away from those knowing silver eyes, afraid I’d see pity. “It was the wrong thing to do. I know that. I told him I didn’t love him. And I did my best to be a good wife. ”
“You played the role he married you to play. Even when you knew what he was.”
“Yes.” I nodded. I’d married a man for his money. A man I liked, but would never love. The more I grew to know him, the less I even liked him. But I did my best to be what he wanted, always aware that he held my mother’s life in his hands. She was far too fragile to leave the facility and only John’s continued goodwill kept her safe and cared for.
“So why are you here?” Jacob leaned back in his chair, hands folded, resting on his chest. His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. Time was ticking away, and I wasn’t doing a very good job of getting to the point.
“Big John moved into the house a few days ago. He said that, with John gone, my debt was transferred to him. And if I wanted to see my mother taken care of, I’d do as he said.”
“And what, exactly, did he say he wanted you to do? Sleep with him?” One dark, elegant eyebrow raised as if to ask if that was all it took to scare me off.
“Sleeping with him and keeping his house was just the beginning,” I said. “He and John fought a lot at the end. One of the things they were fighting about was me. Big John felt that I was too big a drain on their resources. That I needed to earn my keep. He wanted to trade me out to some of their associates. John refused.”
“You’re kidding.” Jacob’s face darkened, his eyes shading from silver to a dark, forbidding gray.
“I wish I was.”
“What did he say when you told him you wouldn’t do it?”
“He said he had chains and drugs that would keep me in line. I acted like I’d go along, said I knew I owed him, but I had my period. Then I snuck out in the middle of the night.” I fell silent, waiting. Jacob watched me, not speaking, for several endless minutes. Every muscle in my body was tight, tense to the point of pain. Jacob was my only chance. I had no money, no friends I’d risk to Big John’s fury. Nowhere to go. Finally, he spoke.
“What do you expect me to do?”
This was the sticking point. The truth was, I didn’t know. I wasn’t asking for a job. After four years of marriage to John, I still had no marketable skills. All I had was my willingness to do anything to protect my mother.
“I can’t take my mother out of the facility she’s in. I can’t afford to pay the fees. And I’m not sure, even if I turned my back on my mother, that I can stay clear of Big John. I need help with all of it.” Jacob remained silent, studying me. I swallowed. It was against my temperament to push, but I didn’t have a choice.
“I know it’s a lot to ask. Too much. But I’ll do anything.” I stared him in the eye, daring him to doubt my commitment.
“Anything is a dangerous promise.” Jacob tilted his head to the side. It should have been endearing. Instead it made him look like a predator studying his prey. Me. I swallowed before I spoke, my throat thick with nerves.
“Before I left, Big John said he was going to shoot me up with heroin and chain me to a bed while a gang of bikers rapes me. I’ll do anything that stops short o
f drugs and rape.” More silence. Then Jacob picked up the phone on his desk.
“Rachel, reschedule my 11:15.” He hung up the phone and studied me another long minute before he spoke. “I want you. I wanted you the first minute I saw you. You know that. It’s why you came to me.”
“I—” I stopped speaking. Without knowing where he was going, I didn’t want to dig myself a hole. I fell silent, waiting to hear what he would say.
“I have a circumstance I find difficult to handle, Abigail. Over the years I’ve tried various methods of dealing with it, and none have met with success. I’ve been thinking it’s time to try something new. And you’re going to be my something new.”
My mind raced. Jacob’s lips had curved into a smile at the word ‘new’. His top lip was severe, the bottom lushly full. Together, they drew the eye. Especially in a half smile with a hint of mischief. His words, the smile, all sounded like he was going to help me. Now I just had to see what being his ‘something new’ would entail. Unable to force my mouth to move, I lifted my chin, inviting him to continue.
“I like sex,” he said. “I like a lot of sex. A like variety. Kink. You’ve probably never heard of half of the things I’ve thought about doing to you. What I don’t like is inconvenience.” Jacob leaned forward, his eyes locked to mine, elbows resting on the polished wood of his desk.
“Relationships are inconvenient. They involve compromise, accommodation, and time. I don’t have the patience for the first two and enough of the last. I don’t want to get to know a women. I’m not interested in intimacy outside of sex. What I want is to fuck when I want to fuck. And I want to fuck a woman I’m attracted to who will let me do anything I want to her.”
“Will you hurt me?” My voice was high and tight. I don’t know what I was expecting, but this matter of fact, efficient speech wasn’t it. It was, however, far less scary then Big John’s proposal.
“Yes,” he answered. My stomach pitched. “But I won’t damage you. And the kind of hurt I’m talking about? You’ll like it.”
“So how does it work?”
“You move in with me. You don’t leave the house. Ever. You do nothing without my permission. I’m not looking for a woman, I’m looking for a pet. An obedient, available pet. Can you do that?”
I stared, not sure I could answer. I’d walked in prepared to trade my body for my mother’s safety. It wasn’t honorable, but it was the only thing of value I had to offer. But this, his dehumanizing description of what he wanted from me, had shocked the speech from my brain. Lips and tongue frozen, I forced myself to nod. I couldn’t afford for Jacob to think twice. No matter how terrifying this sounded, I couldn’t run away. He stood, pushed back his chair, and rounded his wide desk. Standing in front of me, still seated in the leather armchair, he rested his hands on his hips and said,
“I think, before we go any further, I need a sample.”
I stared up at him in dumb confusion. If my brain had been working, I’d have known exactly what he meant. Since I was slow, he clarified.
“Suck my cock.”
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The Billionaire’s Secret - Novella Duology
The Billionaire’s Secret Heart
The Billionaire’s Secret Love
Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires
The Billionaire’s Pet
The Billionaire’s Promise
About the Author
Ivy Layne has had her nose stuck in a book since she first learned to decipher the English language. Sometime in her early teens, she stumbled across her first Romance, and the die was cast. Though she pretended to pay attention to her creative writing professors, she dreamed of writing steamy romance instead of literary fiction. These days, she’s neck deep in alpha heroes and the smart, sexy women who love them.
Married to her very own alpha hero (who rubs her back after a long day of typing, but also leaves his socks on the floor). Ivy lives in the mountains of North Carolina where she and her other half are having a blast raising two energetic little boys. Aside from her family, Ivy’s greatest loves are coffee and chocolate, preferably together.
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The Billionaire’s Secret Love
Copyright © 2016 by Ivy Layne
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Edited by Valorie Clifton
Cover by Jacqueline Sweet
Find out more about the author and upcoming books online at www.ivylayne.com