House of Cards (Tech Billionaires)

by Ainsley St Claire

  “I’m happy to listen, but I’m not promising anything.” I do know that at some point I’m going to have to focus on the either the software or the hotel. It can’t be both.

  “Perfect. Are you drunk enough yet to talk about this woman?”

  He’s going to keep harassing me. He’s like a dog with a bone sometimes. Staring into the amber liquid in my glass, I open up. “I’ve known her for a long time. I realized early that she was my ‘it’ girl.”

  “Why are you just telling me now? I mean, I watched you screw your way through half a sorority in college.”

  “Well, I knew, but she scared the shit out of me. I wasn’t ready yet.”

  “Okay, I felt that way for a minute when I met Bella,” Christopher quips.

  “Fuck you. Never mind.”

  “I’m sorry. Don’t stop.”

  “Every time she said she liked something, I stored it in a file in the back of my mind. I knew I wanted to build this for her someday. I hated the winter in Minnesota, and I love the vibrant colors of the desert. So, while in grad school, I developed this software with this place in mind. I built the Shangri-la for her.”

  “But you never told her?”

  “We talked on occasion. But I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted it to be a grand gesture.”

  He looks around. “This is definitely a grand gesture. What happened?”

  I shrug. “She flew out. I was going to ask her to move here. I had a ring, and I was going to propose.”

  “You bought a ring? Didn’t you skip the dating part?”

  “I bought her a ring. It wasn’t like we would get married tomorrow, but I wanted her to feel like moving here came with a commitment from me. I was ready to show her everything and give her everything. But before I could even start, she told me she was marrying someone else.”

  He makes a face. “Are you sure you’d been reading her feelings the right way?”

  I nod. “I know she cares about me.”

  “Then why didn’t you talk her out of it?”

  “I’m trying, but she’s convinced herself it’s the right thing to do.”

  “Then why aren’t you on a plane to her right now?”

  I scrub my hands through my hair. This is the part I can’t figure out how to handle. “She mostly shuts me down when I try to bring it up. I’m not sure what would happen if I showed up in person. I don’t want to make things worse—she’s already under a lot of stress—and I also have quite a few things happening here.”

  He nods thoughtfully. “That sucks. I still think you’re going to have to go there. And I don’t get why you never told me. I could have been priming the pump for you.”

  I laugh. He would cut my balls off if he knew.

  Christopher put his arm around my shoulders. “You are an amazing brother-from-another-mother and friend. I know there’s a fantastic woman out there for you—when the time is right.”

  Chapter 8

  Maggie

  The man sits down at his desk. “You have such a great body. Why hide it under that sweater?”

  I blush. “Thank you.”

  He leans forward and scrutinizes me like he’s about to make a business deal. “I’m just going to come out and ask, princess. What are you doing here? What is it you want? What do you think is going to happen?”

  The room feels warmer...and it’s becoming harder to breathe.

  All I can muster is, “I have this fantasy...”

  “Go on.” He sits forward with his hands clasped in front of him. His eyebrows rise, and his glare gives me the impression he has x-ray vision.

  I cross my arms and legs, but that still doesn’t hide me from his gaze.

  “What’s your fantasy?” he asks.

  My face starts to flush and my breathing grows heavier. “I want you to fuck me.” My eyes bug, not believing the words that just came out of my mouth.

  In contrast, he keeps his eyes on me, his poker face not revealing what he’s thinking at all.

  “What do you mean by that, princess?” he says. “How do you want to be used?”

  I look at the ground. “I want to be stripped and—”

  “Stop right there,” he demands. “You want to be stripped naked? How do I know this isn’t some joke? How about you strip right now? If you can’t do it here in my office, what’s your plan?”

  I’m stunned like a deer in the headlights. I glance around. The door is closed, but people are walking by his office. It’s not that private. What if we get caught? Everyone has a cell phone today. What if someone records us and posts it on some porn site? I want this, but do I want it this bad?

  “You may as well just leave if you can’t.”

  I stand, trembling, and his face falls in disappointment. But a grin forms as he watches me grip the bottom of my shirt and pull it up over my head.

  “What a slutty little bra you have there for such an innocent-looking girl,” he growls.

  I almost forgot I wasn’t wearing my normal underwear. I blush, knowing my nipples are straining behind the satin lace demi cups.

  “Come on, princess, don’t waste my time. Continue,” he cajoles.

  I unbutton my pants and without thinking, I pull them down—nearly pulling my thong down too, which I stop and fix. Stupid. I’m about to be completely naked, so why does that matter? I’m just prolonging the inevitable.

  I turn around and undo my bra, holding it over my breasts as I turn back around to face him. He’s holding his hand out. I close my eyes, take in a deep breath, and hand it to him. When I open my eyes, he’s breathing in my scent.

  “Mmmmm…so innocent. Smells like fresh flowers.”

  I look down and start to remove my thong, shaking.

  “Look at me while you do that,” he says sternly.

  I stare at his stunning azure eyes, realizing he’s controlling me as I slowly let them drop to the ground. Again, he holds out his hand. I pick them up and hand them to him. He smiles, and I glance outside the office, trying to ignore the heat in my face. No one seems to notice what we’re doing. My pulse drops from an adagio beat to an andante.

  He licks the crotch and moans as if he’s just tasted the most delicious thing. “I guess not so innocent, being this wet,” he comments.

  I’m embarrassed, knowing he’s right.

  “Let’s continue,” he says.

  I stand there shaking as he stares at me. “Turn around,” he demands.

  I quickly twirl.

  “Slower, and try to be sexy.”

  I turn more slowly, and when my back is to him, he says, “Stop, bend over, grab your ass cheeks, and spread them wide.”

  I do as he says.

  “Now stand and finish your sexy turn.” I turn around and stare at him, biting my bottom lip.

  “What do you want?” When I don’t answer he prompts me. “Use your words.”

  “I want you,” I rasp.

  He grins like he just won the lottery. “Prove it to me.”

  He clears his desk and pats the spot in front of him. “Take a seat right here.”

  I step around to sit on it, knees at my chest and feet on the desk.

  For the first time he touches me, his hands so close to my pussy, but holding my ankles as he removes each sandal. The hair on the back of his hands brushes against me, and I nearly gasp, feeling sensitive all over.

  “Spread your legs and show me how wet you are.”

  I adjust my legs and reach down to spread the lips of my pussy. Wetness drips down to my asshole. He leans forward, so close I can feel his breath, and softly blows on my clit. My nipples pebble, and I shudder in excitement.

  “Do you play with this beautiful pussy?”

  All I can do is nod.

  “Remember, use your words. Do you or don’t you, princess?” He stares at me sternly.

  “Yes...”

  “Yes what, princess?”

  “I play with myself a lot, sir,” I rush out.

  Why did I say a lot? And why d
id I call him sir?

  “Show me how, or this conversation is over.”

  With my legs still spread, I massage my breasts with one hand and reach down with the other to rub my clit. I close my eyes, trying to imagine he’s the one doing this rather than watching.

  “Open your eyes!” he demands.

  My lids shoot open.

  “So you want to be stripped, and what do you want me to do to you?”

  I moan. “I want to feel you inside me.”

  His eyes become hooded, which distracts me.

  “Don’t stop what you’re doing,” he demands. “I want to watch you make yourself come.”

  I dip my fingers deep inside my wetness and circle my hard nub as I pull and twist my nipple.

  He reaches for my wet hand and puts it in his mouth, licking my taste off of me. “Don’t stop. Do you like a thick, fat cock buried deep inside you?”

  “Yes...please...” He releases my hand, and my fingers return to tweaking my nipples and rubbing my clit like they have a mind of their own, pleasuring me for his sake, not mine.

  He unbuckles his belt, and his pants fall to the floor. His black boxer briefs hug his bulbous cock. He’s excited about this as well.

  “Mmmmmm…” I writhe on his desk, biting my lip and losing control.

  I close my eyes, and his hands touch me all over, moving from my neck to my tits. I’m not sure where he is, but his hands learn every inch of my body—my stomach, around to my hips, my back, the sides of my legs, and down to my ankles. Knowing people could be watching further excites me now.

  My strength is going, and I lie back on the desk, legs still spread as he moves between them. I hold my ankles, hoping I don’t fall off. All I can picture is this man, his head between my legs and his tongue circling the lips of my pussy—finding my clit, touching every inch of me like a blind man. Every time he hits my clit, electricity shoots through my body and I fight the urge to moan. Then another shock hits me when his tongue licks my asshole.

  I’m so close. I’m almost there. He rubs his cock up and down my slit and pushes inside me.

  My phone starts to ring, and I sit straight up. Only I’m not on a desk, I’m in my bed—and I’m no longer having the most delicious dream. I’m all wet and horny. Ever since I was with Jonnie last fall, I’ve had these naughty dreams. The scenario varies, but they’re always hot and sexy.

  “Hullo?” I groan into the phone.

  “Are you still in bed?” my mother demands.

  “Yes. Why do you care? It’s Saturday morning, Mother. Can’t I sleep in?”

  “No! You were supposed to work out with Rachel at five and be meeting with the wedding planner in a half hour downtown.”

  I find the clock. I don’t want to go. It’ll be tight, and I’d rather stay here and continue my sexy dream. His face is never quite clear, but it’s Jonnie’s voice and eyes, so I’m always sure it’s him.

  “I’ll be there. I’m just trying to psych myself up.”

  “Do what you have to do, and be on time,” she says.

  I roll my eyes as I hang up the phone. I adjust my cami, which has my boobs hanging out—and not in any appealing way. I truly don’t want to meet the wedding planner. Alex is going as my buffer, but it’s a waste of time. This marriage isn’t real, and the wedding planner and my mother have already made all the decisions. I just need to know the day, time, and location.

  There’s a knock at my bedroom door.

  “Come in,” I mumble.

  “Hello, my darling.” Alex sweeps into the room, his hips swaying like he’s dancing.

  “What has you so chipper?”

  “I hung out with Charles last night.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

  When I don’t respond, he waves his hand at me. “Why aren’t you ready? Trying to piss Mother off, are we?”

  “No. I just was up half the night thinking about the mess we’re in.” I rub my eyes. “You adore your mother.”

  “Yes, but she mostly lives in Florida—far away from me and my father.”

  “That doesn’t bother you?”

  His face contorts. “No, why would it. They have a marriage in name only. They have their own lives and, when needed, they show up together. The only difference between their marriage and ours is that we’ll always be friends.”

  Alex is my friend, but that honestly sounds terrible to me. I can’t understand why it’s remotely appealing to him.

  ***

  The rose smell in the air overwhelms me as I walk into the bridal boutique.

  “You’re late,” Veronique, the planner, announces.

  “Sorry,” I mumble.

  “Well, at least you’re here. I’ve never had a bride less excited to get married.”

  “I guess you’ve never organized an arranged marriage?” I give her my best stink eye.

  “Pish, pish.” She rolls her eyes and swings at an imaginary fly. She takes in Alex, who is six-foot-two and has blond hair with a bit of curl on top, broad shoulders, and gorgeous blue eyes. “He’s stunning, and you make a gorgeous couple. Love will come later.”

  Alex gives her a strained smile.

  Rather than argue, I charge ahead. “What’s on today’s list?”

  She smiles and leads us to a table with six bouquets of white roses. With her best Vanna White impression, she waves to the bouquets. “Which do you prefer?”

  Is this some kind of joke? I examine them and don’t notice any real differences. “They all look the same.”

  You would have thought I climbed on the table and shook my ta-tas in her face. Her lips purse like I squirted lemon juice from them into her mouth.

  With a big sigh and a slap to her hips, she begins. “This first bouquet is a White Chocolate rose. The stems are captured with a blue satin ribbon. The second bouquet is a Polar Star rose, and the stems are bound with burlap and pearled pins. The third bouquet is the Tibet rose, and the stems are bound with white satin ribbon and a fine blue ribbon.”

  I couldn’t care less. “You showed me the bouquet my mother wants. Why have we changed our minds?”

  She yammers on, explaining the differences between the six bouquets. I’m only half listening.

  “Why the light blue ribbon? Is that for ‘something blue’?”

  A guttural growl emerges from Veronique. “No. It’s the color your bridesmaids are wearing.”

  “I thought they were wearing lavender?”

  “That was last week. I sent you an email on the change.”

  I stare down at my shoe and toe the design in the hand-woven carpet, praying for strength.

  “Which bouquet?”

  I point to one.

  “Oh, I love the Mondial rose,” she says. “It’s so beautiful, and the dark green satin ribbon makes it look like you’re just holding stems.” She turns to Alex. “Isn’t she going to be beautiful?”

  Alex puts his arms around me. “She’s always beautiful.”

  Somehow it takes four hours to get through all the decisions Veronique and my mother have already made.

  As we prepare to leave, Veronique hands me a list. “Here’s the list of guests your families have provided for the wedding. Please let me know if you’re adding anyone else.”

  I take the stack of paper, which is over an inch thick. I thumb through the pages of names. I’m puzzled.

  “They’re listed in alphabetical order, according to whose list they came from,” Veronique explains. “Once we receive their affirmative response, we’ll begin planning the tables. We’re expecting twelve hundred guests.”

  I told my mother this was to be no more than two hundred people—that was plenty big, I stressed to her. Did she listen? No. My blood pressure skyrockets. I’m over this. I’m going along with this charade; the least she could do is the one simple thing I’ve asked.

  Tucking the list in my bag, I throw it over my shoulder. Alex has been reading something on his phone and stands. He thanks Veronique, and we leave the store.

  “Can
you believe they’ve invited over twelve hundred people?”

  “That is a lot.” He stops and gives me a hug. “Look, I left something at Charles’ last night. I need to run. Can you grab a rideshare home?”

  Fantastic. This is the life I’m getting. “Sure,” I say, fighting back tears.

  ******

  When I walk in the door at home, the house is quiet. I’m not sure where Hazel is, but something smells delicious in the kitchen.

  I walk down to the wine cellar, find myself an expensive bottle of pinot gris, and head to my room before I even put my bag down.

  I open my phone and read back through months of texts between me and Jonnie. I hate this so much. I find a glass of what I hope is water, dump it down my bathroom sink, and open the bottle, refilling the glass.

  The cool wine sits in my mouth for mere seconds, and I hardly taste it. The second swig I savor a minute before swallowing.

  I’ve always been a rule follower. Christopher was so upset with my parents when we were growing up that he emancipated himself, and before that he split his time between Jonnie’s and his bedroom here. Hazel would sneak him in and out before my mother came home.

  Stevie, my younger brother, was no better. I think he was high for most of high school. According to my dad, he spent his inheritance before he was twenty on booze, drugs, and women. But he did get to live in Hawaii for a few years.

  I remember the strain my brothers’ behavior caused, so I wanted to be good, not a troublemaker. I’ve always done what my parents told me. And look where that got me. Now I’m thinking that may not have been the best plan.

  The bottle is well over half gone. My head is no longer hurting, and I feel a bit tipsy and ready for dinner with my mother. It’s only the two of us tonight. My least favorite.

  I walk downstairs and hear her laughing. The ice queen never laughs. We must be having dinner with someone. Hmm…. I can’t quite place the voice until I round the corner and see Alex and his father, Herbert.

  I’m in sweatpants with Juicy plastered on my ass. They’re from about six seasons ago, but I love how comfortable they are. And I’m not wearing a bra, so the girls are on high beams. My thought was they’d be a nice fuck you to my mother, but now I’m feeling a bit underdressed.