Defying Dorian: Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Sloan Storm

  Oh my God… No deodorant!

  And so it was, clammy and disheveled, I would meet a billionaire for the first time in my life. Just then, the door cracked open and the driver’s hand passed through as he reached to help me out. At the last instant, I managed to wipe the palm of my hand across my lap, ridding myself of the moisture I was certain it contained.

  “Thank you, Armando,” I said, as I emerged from inside the vehicle.

  Though it was noisy, I found myself caught off guard by the relative calm of the airport. As Mr. Sinclair’s plane approached, I cast my gaze down the rows of private aircraft, which extended as far as I could see. The late afternoon sun reflected hues of blood orange and fire engine red off the multimillion dollar fuselages.

  There was a sense of order to it all.

  Powerful men with expensive toys commanding their slice of the universe, bending it to their will. A smile crept to the corner of my mouth as the largest plane of them all neared our position. Swallowing us with its shadow, the aircraft came to a halt as two men with neon yellow ear protection scampered to brace the plane’s wheels with bulky rubber chocks. Just then, a rogue gust of wind generated by the plane’s final stop blew past my face and sent my hair flying.

  A blessing in disguise. Now at least I have something to blame that rat’s nest on.

  A time period equivalent to forever seemed to pass before there was any noticeable activity from inside the plane. At last, the cabin door slid open with a hiss. Lifting my hand to shield my eyes from the setting sun and get a better view, I half expected a cloud of stage smoke to billow out as well.

  It was quite the spectacle.

  “That’s some plane isn’t it, ma’am?” Armando asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah, sure is.”

  “Have you met him before? Mr. Sinclair?”

  I shook my head and began to reply when I noticed a shadow draw across the open portal. I squinted a bit harder, cutting through as much of the sun’s glare as I could when he appeared.

  The late afternoon sun cast an angular shadow across his square jawline. Easily more than six feet tall, his muscled, lean frame cut a masculine presence at the top of stairs. For a moment I watched as he scanned his surroundings before angling his view down towards us. After turning his head to deliver what I assumed was some last minute instructions to the flight crew, he flicked his arms at the elbow, repositioning his suit coat with precision. Straightening his tie as he descended, Greyson Sinclair sauntered down the stairwell leading from the side of the plane to the ground, mere feet away from the waiting limo and… me.

  As he approached, he gave a curt nod to the driver and then stopped, perhaps no more than a foot from my face. Unsure, and not used to strangers invading my personal space, I stepped back a bit as the hint of smile came to the corner of his mouth.

  “Miss Olsen?” he said, as he once more closed the distance between us.

  I sensed the sun-warmed metal of the car through the sheer backside of my dress as he moved me towards it with his approach. Unable to side step his advance, I instead thrust my hand in his direction to stop him in his tracks. He paused for an instant, looked down at my hand, fingers ramrod-straight in defiance. The scent of his cologne, a heady mix of pine and musk, wafted into my nose as his eyes drew upwards to meet mine.

  The peripheral world around me blurred as I found myself transfixed, completely unaccustomed to such a greeting. When his eyes at last locked with mine, I became aware my mouth had dropped open, enough so he’d notice. The dry air of hot runway sent my tongue towards my lips as I swallowed and gathered what little moisture I could from the narrow space between us.

  “Miss… Olsen?” he said once again. Only this time his tone didn’t carry an inquisitive tilt but rather a challenging edge bordering on a demand.

  Sensing the hint of impatience in his voice, I smiled, just as Katy had instructed. I flashed the biggest mouthful of gleaming white I could muster and replied, “Yes, Mr. Sinclair, my name is Madeline Olsen but you can call me Maddie.”

  Still refusing to shake my extended palm, he instead lifted his hand towards his chin and pinched it between the thumb and forefinger. Small tufts of his hair threatened to shift out of position as a breeze stirred the stillness between us. He narrowed his gaze on me for an instant, nodded in a deliberate manner and said, “When I ask you a question, I expect an answer. Don’t let it happen again.”

  With that, he broke eye contact with me and nodded towards the driver, who hustled to the car and opened the door for Mr. Sinclair to get inside. I watched as he vanished from sight. My hand went limp as my arm fell back to my side.

  Great job Maddie. Really great.

  I puffed my cheeks and blew a deep exhale as I turned to follow him inside the car. As I did, I closed my fingers against the inside of my palm.

  The clamminess had returned.

  4

  Getting An Eyeful (Grey)

  I watched as the slender fingers of her hand grabbed the inside of the limo door a split second before her leg appeared through a slit in her dress. I could see the muscles in it flex as she made her way inside. Her legs were long, lean, slightly tanned and obviously fit. I don’t suppose I could have hoped for more, especially on such short notice.

  As she took a seat across from me, I allowed my eyes to travel wherever they saw fit. Aside from her tempting legs, she had ample tits, a great ass and a helluva smile. She was a damn beauty, that’s for sure. The picture hardly did her justice. This was going to be a good first night. An unexpected and enjoyable end to an otherwise pain-in-the-ass day.

  “Mr. Sinclair,” she began, as she raised her hand and draped it across her chest. “I’m really sorry about what happened out there a moment ago. Please believe me when I say I didn’t mean to offend you in any way.”

  Just as she finished speaking, the car lurched forward. The tires squeaked on the slick surface of the tarmac and in that same instant, her purse fell from her lap, spilling its contents onto the floor in the process.

  “Oh my God!” she gasped.

  For a split second, I almost reached down to help her, but when I got a look at her cleavage, I thought better of it. While I got an eyeful, she corralled a stack of paper and an assortment of other random knickknacks and jammed them back into her bag.

  Returning to her seat, she flung a handful of her blond hair out of her eyes. It came to rest in an even split along her shoulder, with half of it covering her breast and the other half concealed from my view as it draped down her back. A hint of crimson flushed to her cheeks as I studied her attempt to compose herself. She flashed a closed-lipped grin at me once the fidgeting ceased.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she began. “I’m so sorry about that, Mr. Sinclair, about what happened when you got off the plane, I’m just… sorry. Can we start over?”

  Spreading my legs, I unfolded my hands from their position in my lap and covered my kneecaps with my palms.

  “Sure thing,” I replied. “We can do that.”

  “Oh, thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” As she spoke, she broke eye contact with me just long enough to start fishing around inside of her purse once again. Within a few seconds, she produced a handful of paper, now tattered at the edges from the mishap moments before.

  “What do you have there?” I asked.

  “Oh,” she said, as she jumped in with eagerness. Clutching the half-folded stack in her hand she smiled and said, “Well, I… I’ve compiled a list of activities based on the proposal I sent you. You know, stuff you might be interested in seeing or doing in town when you’re not working.”

  Raising my hand, I motioned for her to pass the information to me. I took the papers from her, spun them around and placed them in my lap for a closer examination.

  “Got a pen?” I asked, as I started to scan the list.

  She cleared her throat, and then I heard the now familiar sound of her rummaging through the loose items
in the bottom of her purse. After a few moments, the noise ceased as she located a writing instrument.

  “Here you go,” she said, extending the pen in my direction.

  As I perused the list, it became obvious she’d put a fair bit of time into it. Under ordinary circumstances, I might even enjoy some of the items she’d laid out. Of course, I’d have no interest in doing any of them by myself no matter what. In any case, I decided to have some fun with her about it.

  “Yeah,” I said with an exhale as I pressed my back into the seat. “This list… it’s not gonna work. Not at all.”

  “Oh,” she replied. Her tone sank.

  This would be easier, and far more fun, than I suspected.

  “Yeah, for example. You’ve got daytime activities in here, like visits to the museum.” I paused mid-sentence and began to cross items off the list one at a time. As I wrote, the sound of her sinking into the seat across from me filled the air. “You see, I’m working all day when I’m here, so this kind of thing is out.”

  She remained silent as I laid waste to her list with the angry tip of my red ballpoint.

  “Okay, then here, at night. You’ve scheduled trips to the opera and at least what… two, three, four art shows?” I stopped and glared at her to drive home the point. “You really think I want to go to four art shows in five days?”

  Her shoulders drew up towards her ears in doubt.

  Elevating my voice I said, “And to make matters worse, for tonight, you have me going to dinner in my hotel. Honestly?”

  I lifted my gaze up from the wrinkled pages again to see her pink twinge had deepened in color and spread down to her chest. Before continuing, I gave her a chance to offer up a defense, which she wasted little time in mounting.

  “Ugh, Mr. Sinclair. I’m so sorry,” she began. She made a gesture for me to pass the pages back to her. Continuing, she said, “I’ll figure something out. I promise.”

  With a flick of my wrist, I pinched the stack of pages between my thumb and forefinger and held them up halfway between us.

  “I should hope so,” I replied.

  Taking them from me with a ginger tug, she reached up and pulled two long strands of hair behind her ears as she placed the pages flat in her lap. Without looking up, I watched as she traced my markings with her eyes.

  “Okay, well,” she stammered. “Let’s start with tonight. You don’t want to have dinner in the hotel so um…”

  “Not alone,” I interrupted.

  She lifted her eyes from the page. I watched as she swallowed an anxious lump down before she continued.

  “Oh, okay,” she began. “Right, of course. Um, I can um, make some calls. I’m sure I can arrange a dinner companion for you.”

  “What do you mean, arrange one?” I said. I angled my head down at her, feigning displeasure. “What kind of professional concierge are you? Does Katy know about all these plans of yours and how almost zero of them are of any interest to me?”

  “No,” she said. “This isn’t Katy’s business, sir. It’s mine. Now, with all due respect, I’ve apologized to you for how things have gone so far, but I would ask that you please don’t mention any of this to her. Please, I can make this right if you’ll just give me a chance.”

  This was almost too easy.

  Slapping my hands on my knees once again, I narrowed my eyes at her as I leaned back into the car seat.

  “Since you haven’t had the foresight to arrange for suitable escort for me this evening, I’ll have to insist that you accompany me instead.”

  And then, almost as quickly as she’d flushed moments earlier, the process reversed itself before my eyes. Within seconds a much paler Maddie Olsen locked eyes with me.

  “You want me to be your escort?”

  I nodded but didn’t speak.

  Her eyes darted back and forth for a moment as I assumed she searched for some reason not to do it. Her hand floated up and she started to twirl a strand of her blond hair around her index finger for several seconds. Finally she released it and her hand fell back into her lap.

  “This is strictly business, isn’t it?” she asked. “I mean, I just want to know what your expectations are here.”

  Just then, the limousine pulled up to the entrance of the hotel. Maddie glanced towards the bellman as he approached the car to open the door. As he tugged on the handle, the door creaked open and the din of the city evening invaded the intimacy of our exchange.

  “It’s simple, Miss Olsen,” I replied. “I expect you to do what I want. That is your job after all.”

  5

  Hot, Young & Rich (Maddie)

  Half an hour after I dropped Mr. Sinclair at his hotel, I arrived back at my apartment complex. As the limo pulled into the parking lot, I noticed Katy’s car.

  I am going to kill her. Who the hell did she get me mixed up with?

  Exiting the limousine, I informed Armando he’d need to come back and get me not later than seven thirty if I was to make it back to the hotel bar and meet Mr. Sinclair in time to have dinner. With a nod of understanding, he told me it wouldn’t be a problem and proceeded to drive away. That done, I cast a scowl towards the building and headed inside to get ready and tell Katy how much I appreciated the ‘opportunity’ she’d given me with Greyson Sinclair.

  I jostled the house keys back and forth in my palm. The cool brass edges dug into my flesh as I closed my hand around them and slid the key into the lock. With a swift turn of my wrist, the sound of the deadbolt sliding into the open position cued me to unleash holy hell on Katy the instant I saw her. Turning the knob, I pushed the door open to see Katy in the kitchen bent over at the waist, looking for something in the cabinets.

  “Hey girl! You’re home just in time,” she called out without looking up. In the background, a large pot bubbled on the stove top. Judging by the pungent aroma, she was having pasta for dinner and I guessed she expected I’d be joining her.

  Oh boy, was she ever in for a surprise.

  Without a word, I wrapped my hand around the door and slammed it shut. An instant later, Katy poked her head up over the edge of the kitchen counter. A random strand of her hair fell across her eyes as made visual contact with me. I glared at her, but before I could utter a single word, she brushed the hair from her face and after gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, pushed herself into a standing position.

  Katy wasn’t as tall as me but she was cute. Chestnut hair with auburn highlights framed a roundish face accented by freckles and two caramel brown eyes, the shapes of tiny moons. If anything, her looks made people think she was a pushover when it came to business, but nothing could have been further from the truth. She ran the travel agency she started like a diminutive tycoon. She was bossy, businesslike and as sharp as they came. But as I looked down at her, it was time for me to give the business genius a piece of my mind about her ‘client’.

  Katy tilted her head down in my direction. Her eyebrows wrinkled together in the center of her forehead.

  “Maddie, what’s wrong? What is it? Did something happen with Mr. Sinclair?”

  I removed my bag from my shoulder and after suspending it in midair with my index finger, I dropped it on the living room table. It collapsed with a heavy thump.

  “Well, that all depends on what you mean by ‘happen’,” I replied.

  Spinning around, Katy turned down the flame on the pot. As she did, she glanced back over her shoulder at me and said, “Maddie, you aren’t making any sense. Are you going to tell me what’s going on or not?”

  Fifteen minutes later, we stood side-by-side in the closet together.

  As she spoke, for about the fiftieth time in the last three minutes, I flicked the hangers in my closet. One by one, sorry reminders of my wardrobe raced by me in a frumpy parade. No matter how much I willed the perfect dress to appear, it became obvious I’d have to see him again in the same dress I’d picked him up in a few hours earlier.

  “Ugh!” I groaned, as I looked up towards the ceiling.
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  “I don’t get why you’re so upset, Maddie. What girl in her right mind wouldn’t want to go out to dinner with Greyson Sinclair?! Hot, young and rich—are you ill or something?”

  She reached up towards my forehead in a mocking gesture, pretending to check my temperature.

  I swatted her hand away.

  “Would you stop?” I moaned. “This is really serious!”

  She giggled as I protested.

  “It’s one thing if I screw this up because I do a bad job, Katy, but it’s a whole ‘nother one if…”

  “If… what?” she began, filling in my pause. Katy hesitated for a moment. Then, raising her index finger, she pointed at me and continued, “Ohhh, I get it. You think that unless you give it up for him, he’s gonna come back to me and tell me what a terrible job you did. Is that right?”

  I shrugged. It was a terrible thing to think about him but after the way he looked at me in the back of the limo, what else could I conclude? I’d seen those looks from men ever since I turned thirteen. As much as I didn’t want to say that to Katy, those sorts of glances always meant the same thing.

  “No,” I lied.

  “Yes it is, Maddie. I know you well enough to know when you’re lying to me.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned to walk past her towards the bathroom. Time wasn’t on my side and since it looked like I was stuck with the same outfit, I needed to salvage what I could at the mirror.

  Blocking my path, Katy stepped in front of me and pressed her still-straight index finger in the center of my chest. She looked me in the eye and shook her head as she began to speak.

  “I don’t believe Grey would do that. He might be a lot of things but unfair isn’t one of them.”

  I leaned away from her. “Grey? I didn’t realize you were so chummy with him.”

  “I’m not. It’s not like that. Look, don’t change the subject. What I’m saying is whatever you think his intentions might be doesn’t mean he’s not going to give you a chance to do your job.”