Billionaire Lover

by Tabatha Kiss

  Everywhere I look, I see suit jackets and fancy dresses scattered across the lobby. Ties and stockings. Those who bother to make eye contact with me throw their noses up with disdain. I look straight ahead and ignore them, my feet stomping toward the golden elevator.

  When I reach it, I tap the call button repeatedly to open the doors, glancing over my shoulder at the other guests. I breathe a sigh of relief when they finally open and I step into an empty elevator.

  P for penthouse. I push the button and watch my reflection come together as the doors close on the lobby.

  I wipe the sweat off my face and fix my hair the best I can in the reflective walls. My empty stomach turns as I ascend higher and higher in the golden box, inching closer and closer toward the life I left behind. I close my eyes and breathe in and out, listening to the full rumble of mechanics beneath my feet.

  I feel nervous. Painfully nervous. I have no business being here. Just tell him it was nice to see him and dismiss yourself. You don’t have to take anything from them. Just go home and contact the call center. That job can’t be as bad as people say—

  The final ding fills my ears as I reach my destination. My heart leaps into my throat, my nerves bouncing throughout my body.

  I step off the elevator and enter a small foyer. It’s completely bare with white walls and two benches on either side of the front entrance. A door stands on the opposite side with a doorbell next to it. I take a few quick breaths before reaching out and pushing the button.

  The sound of it bounces off the walls of the small room, vibrating my ears. My ears are ringing and the seconds feel twice as long. But I hear the rustling sound on the other side of the door, then the clacks of it unlocking, and it jerks open a few inches.

  My breath catches in my throat as I look upon my stepbrother for the first time in years.

  “Zeke?” I ask.

  He’s still tall, very tall, but now he sports thick, muscular shoulders. He’s built like a fireman with perfectly styled, short hair. His t-shirt is tight, showing off his perfect physique. And his eyes. They aren’t hidden behind glasses anymore. He’s upgraded to contact lenses and they show off his dark eyes. I stare at them in the dim entryway, trying to decide what shade of gray they are.

  “Hey, Rocky,” he says, pulling the door open all the way. “Come on in.” He steps away from the open door frame and walks down the hallway.

  My heart thumps in my chest. I can feel it flutter with each breath, forcing me to take gulps of air to sustain it. “Um,” I say, watching him slink of out sight around the corner. My eyes flick downward to catch a good glimpse of his rear end, packed into a tight pair of jeans.

  I take a curious step forward into the penthouse. My feet move without my involvement, following him into the main room. I immediately spy a beautiful set of black furniture in the living area. Everything is neat and tidy. A bachelor pad ripped right out of a magazine ad.

  “This is nice,” I say, my eyes as wide as saucers. A little voice inside my mind screams at me, telling me that it was all just a lie. Don’t be seduced by this luxury. But I just can’t help myself.

  “Yeah, well,” Zeke says, shrugging his shoulders. “I had the maid come through before you arrived. Should have seen it twenty minutes ago.”

  “Right,” I chuckle, reminding myself not to get lulled in.

  “Want a drink?” he asks, holding up a glass. A soft, brown liquid swirls around inside of it.

  Say no.

  “Sure,” I say.

  Goddammit, Rocky.

  Zeke steps toward the drink cart in the corner and tosses two ice cubes into an empty glass. I listen to the clinking sounds as my eyes wander around the room. Fine art lines the walls. Expensive electronics sit upon the shelves. I forget what it feels like to have whatever I want at my fingertips. And I hate myself for missing it.

  Zeke holds out the fresh drink to me. I take it from him and raise it up to my nose, inhaling deep.

  A smirk runs along my lips. “Amaretto sour?”

  “Of course,” he says with a grin. He takes the seat in the large armchair across from the couch and motions for me to sit in front of him.

  “You remembered?” I ask, genuinely touched. I bring the drink to my lips and the cold elixir of almond liqueur and sour mix teases my taste buds.

  “How could I forget? You made me make you one of these every day for an entire summer.”

  I recall that summer — the sober pieces, anyway. It was just before our senior year. My mother and stepfather went to Europe for three months. It was a constant party at the Belmont mansion until they suddenly came home a few weeks early. The house was trashed. The maid had quit. And Zeke and I were no longer on speaking terms. I can hardly even remember why anymore. The aroma of almonds teases my brain, urging me to remember, but I just can’t form the thoughts.

  “So, you want a job?” Zeke says, breaking the tension.

  I sit down on the couch across from him and reach for a coaster before placing my drink on the glass table. Maybe that was why we stopped speaking to each other. Back then, Zeke was very anal about coaster usage.

  “Yes, I do,” I say. “But, really, you don’t have to do anything. I just called you to get my mother off my back about it. I’m fine, really.”

  I look up from the floor to find Zeke staring at me. His eyes, frozen in space, look into my own as if he caught sight of something special.

  “Well,” he says. “I checked with hotel management. They don’t have anything.”

  I breathe a sigh, not really sure if it was for relief or disappointment. “Oh… okay. Thanks for asking. Maybe now I can get Mom to leave me alone.” I reach forward and grab my drink off the table.

  “Doubtful,” Zeke says, taking a sip of his own drink. “But I could always use somebody.”

  I pause, the rim of my glass balancing on my lips. “Use somebody?”

  “An assistant.”

  A laugh escapes my lips. “You need an assistant? I thought you people had like four of those?”

  Zeke smiles at me and I feel a shockwave radiate through my kneecaps. “Executives usually do, yes. But I’ve never had one. Never wanted one. But Dad has been bugging me to get one, saying that I’m hard to get in touch with for business.”

  “Is that why you answered the phone like a total dick earlier?” I ask.

  “Probably,” he says, downing the rest of his drink in one go. “So, what do you say? I hire you on as my assistant. Gloria stops bugging you about dumb shit. Dad shuts up about me making him look bad to his colleagues. And I get peace and quiet. It’s a win for all involved.”

  I pause, the world falling into slow motion. I tilt the glass over my lips, pouring the rest of my drink onto my tongue. A bit of it drizzles out of the corner of my mouth and runs down my chin. I wipe it off, enjoying the light buzz of alcohol for the first time in ages.

  Decline the offer. Leave. Call center.

  That sounds… fun… right?

  “How much would I be paid?” I ask.

  “Whatever you feel is fair,” Zeke says.

  “No, seriously. How much?”

  “We can negotiate that later. Just say yes.”

  I want to say yes. I really do. With one single word, I can banish away all of my problems. I can pay my rent. I can afford both food and my utility bill. And most importantly, I will be able to continue going to school.

  “I’m still in school,” I spit out, my voice shaking.

  “We can work around your schedule,” he says.

  The smell of amaretto lingers in my nose and toys with my brain. I can’t shake the feeling that there is something wrong. There’s something amiss, something on the tip of my tongue that I can’t get out.

  But instead of waiting to figure it out, I look up into his gray eyes.

  “Okay,” I say. “I’m in. Yes, I’ll take it.”

  “Excellent,” Zeke says, his lips curling into a smile.

  Four

  Zeke

/>   “Zeke.”

  I bite my lip. God, I loved the way she moans my name...

  I pull her closer to me on the couch, smothering my lips against hers. My tongue dances for the taste of her cherry lip gloss and my cock aches in the mere presence of her warm, tight body.

  She rounds her hips on my lap, just a little piece of bikini bottoms between us and pure ecstasy. I bury my face in her cleavage, taking a deep breath of her sunkissed skin. She smells like sex and sunblock. Every touch of her fingers on my arms and chest makes my heart pound harder.

  “Zeke...”

  She cups my face, guiding my head up to look her in the eye.

  Rocky.

  A baited moan slips from between her lips as she whispers, “Give it to me. Now.”

  Before I can respond, she slides off my lap onto her knees. Strands of her damp hair cling to her cheeks. I run a hand over her face to push them back but she turns her head and opens her mouth to my fingers. Her pink lips form a circle around my knuckles and she gently sucks, sending a flurry of hot blood toward my throbbing cock.

  She slides them out again and giggles, her voice echoing in my head. I look down again as she tugs at the white string of my swim trunks.

  “Give it to me,” she moans.

  I lick my lips, breathing hard. “It’s all yours, baby,” I say.

  She rises to her feet suddenly and the sky turns a deep shade of green outside.

  “Give it to me, Zeke,” she says again, her voice colder this time.

  I blink in confusion. “What?”

  Rocky extends her hand. I look at it and my heart clenches at the chain coiled around her fingers and the silver key resting in her palm.

  I shake my head. “No,” I say. “I can’t do that.”

  “Zeeeeeke.”

  I spin around at the demonic voice to see a large clown standing behind me.

  I jolt awake.

  I look around my dark bedroom, breathing hard and caked in sweat. I throw the blanket off and sit up, my eyes flicking around as my memory slowly returns.

  “The fuck was that?” I ask the empty room.

  I glare at my obvious erection. Blood pounds in my loins, throbbing and aching for her.

  Rocky.

  She’s been back one day and I’m already fantasizing about her. And clowns, apparently. Though, I’m pretty sure the boner is for her. At least, it better be.

  I get out of bed to walk it off and wander into the kitchen for a glass of water.

  “Zeke.”

  I flinch at the soft voice coming from the table in the corner. I flick the lightswitch to find Rocky sitting on top of it in her little, pink bikini with damp, tattered hair.

  She giggles. “Where’d you go?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. Not doing this again.”

  Her head tilts with amusement and she extends her hand. “Come here.”

  I rush at her like a magnet, quickly crushing my lips on hers again. Her lips part and her throat vibrates with tender moans. I tremble as her hand slides into my slacks and grips my dick.

  “Give it to me,” she says.

  I lean away. “Can you not say that again?”

  Her bright, pink lips curl as she pulls me closer, gently yanking me in by the cock. I close my eyes, relishing in the touch and taste and feel of her all over again.

  “Giiiive it to meeeee.”

  I open my eyes to find myself lip-locked with that demonic clown.

  I jolt awake again, sitting up and glaring around my dark, empty bedroom.

  “Oh, come on!” I shout with frustration.

  My phone vibrates on my bedside table. I reach for it without thinking, letting habit guide my hand and turn on the screen.

  Are you awake?

  I turn it right back off and drop it onto the table. My chest is still heaving but I’m not about to get out bed to get a glass of water. Not after that mess...

  I lie back down with closed eyes, kicking my blanket off to get some air.

  Rocky. I thought I was over this. Over you.

  But I’m not.

  I reach into my slacks. There’s no way I’m going back to sleep tonight unless I do something about this but every stroke just makes me feel even guiltier than the last.

  This is wrong. But that’s nothing new, right? I’m used to my feelings being oh-so-very wrong but that doesn’t make what I feel even less real.

  I grit my teeth, withholding a groan as I tighten my stroke.

  I want her. I almost had her once but she slipped through my fingers. I let her leave before without saying what I felt but I shouldn’t have. I should have told her. It was a mistake to let her go.

  I won’t make that mistake again.

  Five

  Rocky

  “Here, take this.”

  I look up to find Zeke standing above me holding a computer keyboard. We’d just spent the last several hours going over my training. The job doesn’t seem all that difficult. Just answer the phones, set up meetings, and give Zeke any important messages that come through. His office is on the top floor of Belmont Tower, just underneath the penthouse level. I will operate from there and build my work schedule around my classes.

  “I don’t care when you’re here, just as long as you clock in at least thirty hours a week,” Zeke says. “That’s the minimum amount of I could convince them for the salary you asked for.”

  The warm smile stretches across my face. It feels so good to have a salary again. “I can do that,” I say. “No problem.” I lay the keyboard down and sit back in my new swivel chair. I prop my feet up on the desk and stare out the window into the dark night sky, flooding with lights from the city. “I can definitely do that.”

  Zeke scoffs and moves a box from the floor to the desk. “Start putting all of this stuff away. Wherever you want it is fine.”

  I sit up and open the box. It’s stuffed to the brim with reams of paper, staples, pens, and other office supplies. “You guys don’t do this stuff digitally?”

  “Mason Belmont?” Zeke laughs. “Of course not. They’ll be stuck in the dark ages until he dies or retires, neither of which seems likely anytime soon.”

  “Are you look forward to it?” I ask. “Taking over the business, I mean…”

  “I don’t know,” he says as he pushes a file cabinet against the wall. The metal scrapes along the floor, leaving a string of shivers toying up my spine. “I’ve never really wanted it, but I’m the only man in line.”

  “What about Becky?” I ask as I dump a load of pens into a drawer.

  “Never in a million years,” he says. “Dad’s not big on letting women above the ground floor.”

  I shrug my shoulders, memories of my stepfather’s selfishness spinning in my mind. “That sounds about right.”

  “But I know she wants it,” Zeke says. “She’s far more ambitious than I am.”

  Becky Belmont. The princess of the Belmont family. We got along, at first. Both of us were just so happy to have a sister. But then Becky’s callous, backstabbing nature finally matured and I cut all ties to her along with the rest of the Belmont clan.

  “You’ll see her on Saturday.”

  I pause and turn around in my chair, pushing it with my toes to face him. “Saturday?”

  “Yep.”

  “What’s happening on Saturday?”

  “The annual Mason Belmont birthday celebration, of course.”

  “Wait — you’re not expecting me to go to that…” I feel a surge of regret for ever taking this job.

  Zeke steps toward the desk and leans over me, inching closer to my face. “Consider it a business obligation.”

  “No, no, no, Zeke — please, no…” I try to climb out of the large chair, but Zeke cuts off my escape. He places both hands on the armrest, locking me in place, hovering above my small frame. My heart freezes in my chest, my emotions yank me in multiple directions. “I made a huge change just agreeing to work for you but I can’t take an entire night surrounded by Bel
monts. Nope. No.”

  “It won’t be a big deal,” Zeke claims. It annoys me how amused he looks. “Just show up, throw on a smile, shake Daddy’s hand, have a slice of cake, and then go home. It’ll be easy.”

  I sigh. Nothing is easy when the Belmont family is involved.

  “Let me ask you something, Rocky,” Zeke says, leaning back. He plants himself on the edge of the desk in front of me and holds his thick arms around his chest. His biceps bulge as he moves and my eyes bounce from arm to arm. “Why do you hate us so much?”

  Where do I even start?

  I bite my lips, torn over what to say. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I’ve genuinely enjoyed the last few days with him. Maybe he’s not nearly as bad as I always assumed he was. But that can’t be true about the rest of the Belmonts.

  “I don’t know…” I say, glancing at the floor. “I just don’t like how you act, that’s all.”

  “How we act?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. A look of amusement dances on his face. “How’s that?”

  “Like you own the world and everyone in it.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “What’s wrong with that?” I chuckle to myself. “Your delusion is very real.”

  “We have money,” Zeke states. “Power. Privilege. And an endless supply of all of it. A supply that you yourself have benefited from in the past and your mother continues to do so.”

  “Leave her alone,” I warn.

  “Oh, please. Do you have any idea what they said to my father before he married her?”

  I pause, waiting for him to answer his own question.

  “They said, don’t do it, Mason. She’s just a gold-digging whore from the city. I thought so, too.”

  “Shut up.”

  But Zeke continues, leaning forward, his eyes boring down on me. “But he ignored them. He took you two from nothing and gave you everything. Some would say you owe him for that.”

  “I don’t owe him a damn thing.”