by Kimball Lee
The Long Hot Summer
Billionaire Season
Book One
By Kimball Lee
Copyright 2014
Kindle Edition
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Chapter One
“So, your do-gooder daddy is taking in a homeless child for the summer? How old is she, twenty-two, twenty-three, young and malleable, just the way you like them? How dull, William, and how predictable, your father has a definite soft spot for his old girlfriends and their money grubbing offspring,” Marisa said, her tone as sarcastic as usual.
“Are you including yourself in that group, Marisa?” William asked, her hands were on his shoulders, kneading, massaging, insinuating her way into his good graces. He sat with his back to her, peering out the immense glass doors at the far end of his office. The doors led to a narrow balcony perched precariously at the back of the once famous ocean liner and beyond its brass railings was the wide and muddy Mississippi River. A utilitarian and inelegant fleet of Warfield Shipping vessels nestled against the docks below, they sailed in from the Gulf of Mexico, unloaded their cargo and were back on their way to Hong Kong or Rotterdam or Balboa. “Your mother was a fling of my father’s for all of six months and you’ve certainly made yourself at home and enjoyed the hospitality of the Warfield family for the last two years.”
“Are you tired of me, William?” she said, swiveling his desk chair so that he was facing her as she sank to her knees and swept her bright copper hair away from her beautifully calculating face. “It seems to me that our parent’s brief relationship was the best thing that happened for the two of us. I mean it, who else is going to play your dirty little games, fuck your brains out and keep you satisfied the way I do?”
“Get up, Marisa, my office door is open, anyone could walk in,” he said, removing her deft little fingers from his zipper. He hoped she would stop but he knew that she wouldn’t.
“I thought that was the way you liked it, in fact I know it’s the only way you can get off. With that nasty little element of danger and exhibitionism and soon you’ll most likely head down the treacherous road of pain with pleasure just like your brother. Don’t try and deny it, William, I was there at The Cathedral two nights ago, I’m well acquainted with the mask you wear, a gold Venetian lion. The young lady you were with looked thoroughly—“chastised” shall we say? You know I’ve always loved your twisted brand of love making…”
“Fucking, Marisa, I fuck. Love and sex have nothing to do with one another. And I don’t know what you think you saw but punishment is not my game, however I regret that it is my brother’s way of life. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to see my father today and it’s a long drive out to bayou country.”
“You’re right, with you it’s simply a physical act, sex, fucking, nothing more. You fuck so perfectly and so impersonally. Maybe that’s the turn on, they say a hard cock has no conscience, well that’s certainly true for your gloriously long hard cock. Still, I love when you’re inside me, your magic fingers on my pussy, fucking hard and deep, anywhere, anytime. But that’s over isn’t it, we’re over? I never deluded myself that you loved me, William, you’re not capable of love. There’s not a woman on this planet who could thaw that cold, cold heart of yours. You used to be so exciting, so infuriatingly self-absorbed and without a doubt the best fuck in town. Fuck me now, William. Or have you lost your edge. Has William Parrish Warfield the fourth let all the excitement and edgy hedonism of his scandalously subversive demons slip away?” She slipped onto his lap, straddling him, her skirt hiked up around her waist. He turned his face away when she bent to kiss him but he didn’t stop her from freeing his erection. He ripped her thin panties off and slid his hands to cup her ass as she settled onto his length.
“You are an arrogant, soulless bastard,” she moaned against his ear as she gripped his shoulders and rocked her clit against the base of his cock. “You’re so cool and uninterested and yet you’re diamond-hard and ready. Fuck!” she cried out as the orgasm washed over her and he covered her mouth with his hand and watched as his assistant passed by the open office door with a knowing smile and shake of her head.
“Thanks for stopping by, Marisa, I think we should consider this goodbye. And really, shouldn’t you be spending more time with your mother in Reno or whatever provincial RV Park she went back to? Stay away from my father, you won’t lure him into your bed. We have an unspoken agreement, he and I don’t fuck the same women. It’s better not to have them comparing the father and the son,” he lifted her off his lap and helped straighten her clothes and then he stood and led her to the door.
“You didn’t even let yourself come, you held back. Why is that William, to prove that you have ultimate control in all things including denying a woman the satisfaction of bringing you to orgasm? I was wrong about your cold heart,” she said, pressing her lips to his before he could stop her. “You don’t have a heart at all, just an empty space where your mother once lived and maybe a small space leftover for your crazy brother.”
“Leave New Orleans, Marisa. This town isn’t kind to women like you. And my brother is not crazy, so don’t act like you know anything about him,” he said and he saw her grimace as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand and she witnessed the raw fury blazing in his eyes.
*
“I want to exact a promise from you, William, a gentleman’s agreement, so to speak. Man to man, father to son, give me your word you will not hurt this girl.” His father was wearing his tennis whites and sipping a tall glass of whiskey. Cubes of ice clinked against a crystal glass that never left his hand, not even when the butler refilled it, nor did he offer William a drink.
“An agreement isn’t necessary, Father, I have no interest in your latest charity project,” William said, staring into his father’s eyes and shocked at the depth of pain he witnessed there.
His father, William Warfield the third, wasn’t known as a man with a soft spot for anyone, least of all his namesake son. He had never made a secret of his lukewarm love for his late wife or his shame over his younger son, Walden, both of whom had been plagued by ‘mental instability’. But he did continue to carry a torch for a girl he’d loved long ago, a girl he hadn’t seen in almost thirty years, a girl who was dead now but whose only child was coming to New Orleans for the summer.
“Good… good. She’s Liza’s daughter, that’s remarkable isn’t it? Liza had an entire life, a life full of happiness with that repulsive hippie professor, a life without me…” William’s father rambled on, lost again in one of his ‘Liza ruined my life but I never stopped loving her’ reveries.
“I really don’t have time for this, Father, if you’ll forgive me. I expect the girl will be staying with you here at Greenlea, so enjoy her company, dream of Liza, leave me out of it,” William said bluntly, he had shrugged out of his suit jacket when he arrived, now he rolled up his shirt sleeves and loosened his tie.
His father was not yet sixty years old, tall, sturdy, strikingly handsome and immeasurably wealthy, and yet his obsession with his college sweetheart had rendered him as emotionally unhinged as his younger son and his late wife. Wills, as his father was called, had more money than a sane man could spend in several lifetimes but he was a miser about the most trivial things. Like the wet Louisiana heat filtering oppressively into the monstrously large plantation house where he lived. He paid dozens of servants to keep it in immaculate order and yet he refused to install central air conditioning. Instead he relied on vintage paddle-type ceiling fans to stir what little air drifted off the Bayou Teche and in through the multitude of open French doors.
He’s lost his grip on reality, just like my moth
er and brother, how long before I succumb? William wondered, although he never intended to. He had a few sexual hang-ups, that was all and it wasn’t anything sadistic or particularly scandalous, so, no problem. His sanity was firmly intact, he would not be caught in the furtive net of lunacy that had settled over his family.
“I need you to collect her from the airport, William. I can’t send for her, it lacks Sothern hospitality. I don’t think Liza ever came back to the South, so I doubt that her daughter has been in our corner of the world. The girl is from the north, a Yankee I suppose you’d say. Berkley, California and all that liberal love-the-one-you’re-with nonsense…. and you know I don’t leave the property, so run along and fetch her, hurry please.” He said, clicking open the cover of his gold pocket watch, checking the time and then pointing a long finger to the massive cypress-wood front doors.
“You want me to drive to the airport and then what, bring her all the way back out here to the middle of nowhere? You have a garage full of cars and a driver, Father, and really now, growing up in California does not make her a Yankee.”
“She isn’t from here; that makes her… different from us. I’m not asking you, William, I’m insisting. Do me the favor of entertaining her this evening, let the girl spend the first night at the townhouse and then bring her to meet me in the morning. She’ll be working in the city so I’d like for you to set her up in a large suite on the ship. Is that asking too much, can you not do a handful of simple favors for me, son?”
“It’s summer, Father, more than likely the ship is booked to capacity. It’s become the most sought after hotel in New Orleans, and I doubt that you’ll ever give me credit for the idea of turning a defunct cruise ship into a luxury dock-side hotel.”
“Yes, yes. It was an excellent idea, my grandparents traveled to America for the first time on that very ship, it was in 1935. My father was an infant in his mother’s arms on the journey and years later when the legendary ocean liner was offered for sale at auction he bought it and gave it his mother’s title. He left the ship languishing in dry-dock in Rotterdam for years, who’d have ever imagined… but of course you did, didn’t you? Bravo, William, a remarkable idea, putting the old girl to use the way you have. The Countess Warfield is one of the finest testaments to passenger liners the Cunard Line ever built and now she’s a five star hotel on the banks of the Mississippi River. Well, hurry off now, won’t you? Alaina will be waiting, that’s her name, Alaina, but I can’t for the life of me remember her last name. She’ll be waiting at our hangar, I sent the jet for her, all the way to San Jose International… Liza’s hair was blonde, very natural, like the sun setting on a field of wheat, she had the most endearing freckles on her nose. I wonder if the girl looks anything like her mother. An extraordinary beauty, a quiet sort of beauty, softly innocent, that was how she stole my heart. I was honestly captivated, her loveliness caught me by surprise…”
*
Fuck! William actually said the word out loud as he careened in and out of traffic, the windshield wipers on his Maserati working overtime in the blinding downpour. He steered into the New Orleans airport and bypassed the commercial terminals heading off to the side at breakneck speed toward the cluster of private hangars. He roared to a stop, tires screeching against the hot wet asphalt as the rain beat down pelting his car like rapid gunfire. His phone rang for probably the twentieth time in less than an hour and he finally answered since it was his assistant, Tanya, and not his irksome father.
“What’s going on?” He asked impatiently, holding the phone to his ear and fishing under the seat for the umbrella that was usually there.
“Impromptu get together tonight at The Cathedral, how should I RSVP? Judging from the irritation level in your voice it sounds like you could use an evening of anything goes/anonymous sex, William. The invite came directly from your brother, he wants to see you and have a brotherly chat. Have you picked up the Yankee/hippie-chick yet, is she a little wallflower or a spitfire, tell me, tell me, I’m dying to know!” Tanya laughed her boisterous no-holds-barred laugh.
“Very funny, don’t be a bigot, she’s a Californian, and no, I don’t have her yet. It’s raining like hell won’t have it and I can’t find my damned umbrella. I think I’ll just sit here in the car and maybe she’ll get on the jet and go back home. I have an uneasy feeling my father will lose interest in her and I’ll be expected to babysit for the rest of the summer. God, what a thought. Give Walden a firm maybe for the gathering tonight, he and I haven’t talked in a while, I should check on him, make sure he’s not too close to the edge. By the way, I have no intention of mentioning the girl to my little brother. Let’s make that a top priority. I don’t have the vaguest idea what she’s like but I can say with absolute certainty she has no business stumbling into his deviant world.”
“You’ll get no argument from me, only veteran deviants like the two of us belong in your brother’s subversive playground. Seriously, you do sound incredibly tense right now, boss. I’ll give Walden a definite yes, you can wander among the fine upstanding ‘Southern Gentility’ while they play their parlor games and you’re sure to feel a little less uptight about any secret fantasies you might have. Decide how far you want to go once you get there, lose your worries while giving and taking pleasure from one of the eagerly willing nubile hotties. Or do what I do, play the voyeur, live vicariously through the perversion of others, its good clean fun. I’ll be there tonight, just to let you know, so give me a little space and I’ll do the same for you,” Tanya said, laughing again as the ‘oh so dignified’ William Warfield cursed under his breath.
“Fuck it all, here she comes, soaking wet and smiling like Rebecca of fucking Sunnybrook Farm. Later,” William said, tossing the cell aside and jumping out of the car to meet her as the relentless rain beat down on them.
He popped the trunk and the steward from the jet hurriedly placed Alaina’s tattered duffel bag in the Maserati while William held the passenger door open for her. He wasn’t sure if it was the rain cascading over her honey-blonde waist length hair or the short pleated skirt and knee-high pink rubber boots she wore, but he was suddenly aroused which greatly added to his irritation. She leaned into the car but didn’t move to get in and the wet skirt clung to the most perfectly curved little ass he’d ever seen.
“I shouldn’t do this, come with you, I mean,” she said leaning inside the car anyway, drawn to the aroma of luxuriant Italian leather. The car was amazing, unlike any she’d ever seen before, it was all polished burled wood and pristine leather, she really did want to slip into the butter soft seat and shut out the shroud of grey rain. “I’ll ruin everything, your car, the leather seats… I’m soaking wet, let me just take a cab… or something, really,” she said, standing to face him as the torrent slowed to a thick steady drizzle. Holy shit he’s gorgeous! Those were the exact words that flashed in her mind as she peered up into eyes so deeply brown they appeared to be black. He had a dangerous look about him, like the beautiful bad boys with killer foreign accents in movies. His father was Danish, she recalled her mother having said that, but his looks were more darkly exotic and he had those brooding eyes that couldn’t be described without using the word piercing. He looked as if Colin Ferrell, Henry Cavill and Jon Snow had been photo shopped into a single perfect specimen of a man. Only this man was right here standing impossibly close to her and he was without a doubt irresistibly blood-heating panty-dropping heart-hauntingly gorgeous. Damn.
“Get in,” he said, menacing eyes sweeping over her, his voice deep and low with a slow southern drawl.
She opened her mouth to object but the look of displeasure on his perfect face stopped her words.
She sat dripping on the impeccable cream leather seat and watched as he crossed in front of the car, a tall broad shouldered figure in the haze. He wore a suit and tie even though it was at least a hundred degrees outside and the rain seemed to be the wettest rain she’d ever known.
“Dry off,” he said sharply when he was in t
he car, he slid effortlessly behind the wheel, closed the door and handed her a folded blanket from the backseat.
“This is Hermes,” she whispered holding the buttery soft cashmere in her hands. “It’s a Hermes throw, cashmere, it costs, like, three thousand dollars. I shouldn’t get it wet…”
“This is a Maserati, you shouldn’t get it wet, use the throw, please,” William said and his tone left no room for argument.
“I’m Allie… Darling,” she said, handing him the throw when she had dried off as best she could.
“I’m William… sweetheart. If we’re going to be that familiar, Allie darling. William Warfield… the son.” He said, raking his fingers through his short jet-black hair, the edges of his enticing mouth lifting into a slightly amused but still irritated smile.
“Oh, no! No, that’s my name, I thought you knew. Of course it wasn’t a term of endearment at all, I swear. That’s my last name, Darling. Alaina Darling. Allie. There’s no way that I’d call you darling, William, but that goes without saying, right… Mr. Warfield? Sorry, sorry, I’m just here for an internship… for the summer, and your dad was nice enough to arrange it all,” she babbled on seemingly oblivious that her small round breasts were perfectly visible under the thin wet t-shirt she wore.
“I see, Miss Darling, well that’s good to know. My father harbors some unrealistic romantic fantasies about your late mother… and by the way I’m sincerely sorry for your loss. Anyway, I’m sure my father would welcome any ‘term of endearment’ you might care to throw his way. I, on the other hand, am not interested in exchanging inane niceties or swayed by romantic fantasies. Now, the roads or rather slick thanks to this infernal rain and my father’s estate is more than an hour from the city so you won’t meet him until tomorrow. He doesn’t leave his estate, agoraphobia or something to that effect, but I suppose you know that. So, I have… my family has a modest townhouse in the French Quarter, you should be comfortable there for the night. I’ll see to it that you’re situated and then I’ll be on my way,” he said decisively, glancing into her unabashedly sincere grey-green eyes. Her hair was drenched from the incessant rain but it was still the color of fine corn silk and she wore no makeup to hide her creamy skin. There were pale golden freckles sprinkled across her small straight nose and somehow that fact combined with her large softly questioning eyes clutched at his heart just as the memory of Liza refused to release its grip on his father. He turned away quickly, caught off guard by a sudden ravenous stirring of physical need. He was glad the cashmere throw rested on his lap, he had an unwelcome and severely uncomfortable erection. Allie Darling was indeed young, probably twenty-one or two and she was definitely a wide-eyed innocent, not William’s type by a long shot.