The Billionaire's Ink Mistress: Billionaires in Bondage, Book 2

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  He looked around at his sterile, lifeless condo and couldn’t argue with her. This wasn’t a life. He didn’t have any pictures on the walls. No plants, no pets, nothing alive but him, and that was doubtful. Louisa probably spent more time in this place than he did. He could walk out that door and no one would ever know he’d lived here.

  There’s nothing of me in this place.

  It began snowing, the sky gray and suffocating.

  Unless that’s all I am too. An empty, sterile lifeless thing, cold and alone.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Despite living and working beside his mother these past thirteen years, he’d never just shown up at her house and knocked on her door. Even though she only lived a few minutes away by car. She preferred the older, more elegant townhouses closer to downtown, rather than the ultramodern flashy buildings like his. This building of stone and rich, polished wood spoke of an older time of elegance and class. Perfect for Ellen Montgomery.

  She opened the door and gasped at his condition. He’d walked over from his condo. Just a few blocks, he’d thought, but it’d taken almost an hour. He might live in Chicago, but he’d never participated in Chicago. He lived in buildings and cars and planes, never outside in the wintry mess. He didn’t own a single pair of shoes that weren’t appropriate for court, and very little casual clothing. He’d finally found a dingy pair of sweatpants from his college days and a threadbare T-shirt, which looked absolutely ridiculous with his wool overcoat and Stemar oxfords.

  Ellen seized his arm and pulled him inside. “Are you crazy? It’s been snowing for hours and you don’t even have a hat or gloves! Your hands are like ice.”

  He shrugged out of the heavy, damp coat and kicked off his shoes. They were probably ruined. He didn’t care. “She left.”

  “I know, she mentioned she was flying back this afternoon.”

  “She…” He swallowed hard, his hands shaking. “I didn’t want her to go.”

  Ellen hustled him over to the couch and pushed him down to sit. She disappeared into one of the back rooms and returned with a blanket that she wrapped around him. Her condo had a real fireplace, not one of those heatless gas things for decoration like his. The crackle of wood and flickering flames had a mesmerizing effect. He stared into the fire and slowly calmed his breathing.

  Diana. She’d knocked him off balance and sent him spinning out of control, and without her calm confidence, he couldn’t seem to bring everything back into focus. Or maybe for the first time in years, he was finally seeing reality rather than his made-up fantasy world where he didn’t need sleep or food to function. Where he could pop more and more speed without suffering any consequences. That mentality had caused him to crash and burn at Donovan’s in the first place.

  Ellen brought him a glass, scotch from the smell and color. He couldn’t hold back the sound of pain. He’d failed to get Diana any. What if he never had the opportunity to watch her swirl a glass of amber whiskey and close her eyes as she breathed in its aroma? Or to hear how the smooth whiskey would make her voice even more husky and sexy?

  “Sorry to just drop in on you like this.” He sneezed and groaned because it felt like his head was going to explode. The last thing he needed was a cold.

  “Don’t be silly. I’m glad you came here. Why…?” She sat down beside him and sighed. “Why didn’t we do this before?”

  “Too busy. I joined the firm and hit the ground at full speed, because I was going to be the number one associate from the beginning.”

  “You were too.” She smiled, nodding. “You outperformed everyone that first year and never looked back. I’m proud of you, son. So proud. I’m sorry that I never said it before.”

  He shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise but also pleased. “I always knew that you were. But you wouldn’t be so proud if you knew how I accomplished so much the past few months.”

  “I shouldn’t have put so much on your plate. I took advantage of your dedication to me and the firm. I’m sorry, son. I pushed you too far and you did the only thing you could to stay afloat. Diana said you’ve gotten help.”

  So they’d talked about his drug use this morning. Some of the weight he’d been carrying around on his shoulders suddenly slid away. He’d been unable to ask for help or to tell her he had a problem. Diana had done that for him. “Yeah. No more speed. Never again.”

  “So Diana left.”

  His throat closed off but he managed to nod.

  He took a sip of the scotch, letting it burn down his throat and hopefully clear away the cobwebs. “She doesn’t want to see me kill myself for the firm. She can’t move here thanks to her mother’s illness. I can’t leave here because of the firm. She didn’t call things off, but…” He sighed. “She deserves more than a few hours of my time when I can squeeze her in. Watching her walk out my door killed me. Because I could all too easily picture never seeing her again.”

  “I’ve been so busy myself that I neglected you. I should have known you were pushing yourself too hard.”

  “I know a way to win the vote.” He changed the subject so he wouldn’t break down all over again. “Larsen made me an offer last night.”

  “Whatever it is, no,” Ellen said firmly. “We don’t deal with him or we’ll owe him forever. I’ll win this on my own merit, not because he gave me any concession. I refuse to have to walk into the boardroom every day and feel the weight of my supposed debt to him that’ll never be repaid.”

  On the miserable walk over, he’d been thinking about Larsen’s offer. Even if he couldn’t have Diana, he’d never settle for Sophia, not in a million years. As he’d stumbled through the blowing snow, a solution had finally come to him. Larsen might just have given them the door they needed to force him out. “What do you think Sophia would do if I told her that her father had tried to marry her off to me in exchange for backing out of the managing partner fight?”

  Ellen growled beneath her breath. “That’s what he offered? What a Neanderthal. That’s exactly why we can’t let him take his father’s chair. I could excuse Sinclair’s misogynistic attitude because he’s from the generation where women didn’t work at all. Geoffrey doesn’t have an excuse.” Turning her head, she waited until he met her gaze and then smiled, her eyes dancing with excitement. “She’s going to be pissed.”

  Jackson nodded. “Yeah. Royally. She’ll go to her mom, and Ruth’ll be pissed too. And then both of them will go to Livvy…”

  “The power of generations of Larsen women. Geoffrey won’t know what hit him.”

  “Exactly.”

  “It’s over, then,” she said softly, searching his gaze. “I’ll win the vote.”

  He nodded, unable to look away. In so many ways, he’d been waiting for this moment his entire adult life. For his mother to really see him, to know his worth, and to be thankful for his help. It was ridiculous for a nearly forty-year-old man to want his mother’s approval, to be so desperate for her love and gratitude. But that desire had been his driving force for a very long time.

  “You made this possible, son. This was your fight as much as it was mine.”

  He smiled but it was wobbly. To hide how much her words meant to him, he turned away and took another drink. “My pleasure. Mom.”

  Laughing, she rolled her eyes. “I’ve never been much of a mom to you. I never did mom things. I can’t cook. I never stayed home with you. You must look back on your childhood and hate me.”

  She tried to make light of the tremor in her voice by laughing again, but he heard it. He suddenly understood why there’d always been such a distance between them. She loved him, he’d known that without question. But she hadn’t known that he loved her, that he didn’t resent her for never being the mom other kids had. “What I remember most is how you came in every night to tuck me in. Even when I was a teenager, you still always poked your head in my door to check on me and say goodnight.”


  She smiled at the memory. “When you were little, you’d always con me into reading a couple of books.”

  “Do you remember when we lost the Little League Championship?”

  “You were twelve or so, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah. We had to win to go on to the World Series. One game away from heading to Florida. All we needed was one more out. I’d been pitching all week and my arm was shot, but Dad didn’t let Coach pull me. He said I could do it. I had one more play in me. So I threw a fastball with all the juice I had left. The batter got just a piece of it, enough to send it right back at me. I’d thrown that last pitch with every ounce of strength left in me and I was off balance. I stumbled over the mound just enough to miss what should have been an easy out. The batter was safe at first and the tie run made it home. Coach benched me and put in a fresh arm, but it was too late. We lost in the extra inning.”

  It’d been decades ago, but he could still remember that overwhelming, crushing weight of failure. Sitting on the bench while someone else relieved him. Then to lose the game, all because of his error. Dad had ranted all the way home, but his silence later that evening was worse. Bedtime came and went and Dad didn’t come to check on him. He’d lain in bed, crying, and hating himself for being so weak.

  “Dad was so mad at me for losing the game that he didn’t say goodnight to me. He sent me to bed without dinner and refused to speak to me again.”

  “Oh, Jackson, I—”

  “He was a prick,” he broke in, slinging his arm around her in a hug. “We both know that. But what I remember most is that you came in to see me that night. I heard your voices so I knew he’d told you what a loser I was. Yet that didn’t matter to you. You came in like nothing had happened and read me a book, just like old times. I knew then that you would always love me no matter how much I screwed up, but Dad would only love me if I won.”

  She laid her head on his shoulder and cried softly. They sat there in front of the fire while the wind howled outside and snow piled up on the streets, and Jackson finally knew what he was going to do. He didn’t have to ask for her thoughts or explain himself. Not to her.

  “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, Jackson. You’ve made your decision, haven’t you? You’re leaving.”

  “I know, Mom.” He kissed the top of her head. “I won’t leave until we win.”

  “That’s not necessary. If you love her that much, go to her now.”

  “I want to leave the firm on a high note. Besides, I have a few things I need to take care of first.” His mind was already making a massive list of things he had to do, including calling Donovan to make sure the offer of a job still stood. He’d also call Ann and ask her to go with him. Put his condo on the market.

  “Son?”

  By the tone of her voice, she’d been trying to get his attention for a while. “Yeah?”

  “Make sure you put snow boots on your to-do list. I don’t think that Italian leather will ever recover from your hike over here, and it snows just as much in Minnesota as it does here.”

  He laughed and hugged her against him. “Better yet, maybe I should just buy a car. Can you reteach me how to drive, Mom?”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Don’t get your hopes up had been Diana’s mantra the past few weeks. The vote had come and gone. Christmas was just around the corner. Yet she hadn’t heard a word from Jackson. He’d been busy. He’d always be busy.

  She’d tried to make sure he understood how much she wanted to be with him, but also how unsatisfactory she found their current status quo. Things had to change eventually. Whether he’d be willing and able to make that change remained to be seen. The longer she went without hearing from him, the less likely a life with him seemed.

  Not if he couldn’t even tear himself away from his precious firm for a fucking phone call.

  She did receive an invitation to attend a party at Morgan Industries where the massive stained glass project would be formally unveiled. Lilly had finally finished it, and before Christmas, as she’d hoped. Diana suspected the next invitation would be to a small, intimate wedding. She could only hope that Jackson would come too, at least to the ceremony. But if he couldn’t see that he was killing himself for the firm, and do something about it, she wasn’t sure that she could bear to look at his handsome face, his piercing bright eyes, or the golden tumble of hair across his forehead, and know that he was lost to her forever.

  The party tonight was a black-tie affair. Luckily, someone had been kind enough to pack up the things she’d left behind in the hotel room and send them to her. She suspected Ann, because surely Jackson would have written a brief note to send along. Wouldn’t he? Or maybe she’d been fooling herself all along. She’d given him what he needed and opened his eyes to a whole new world. A world that he could find in Chicago easily enough, and keep his high-rolling lifestyle too.

  Wearing the red gown he’d picked out, she stepped out of the car that Morgan Industries had sent for her. Teeth chattering, she tightened Grandma’s shawl around her shoulders, wishing it were heavier and warmer, and hurried inside the brightly lit building. A string quartet and a baby grand piano provided Christmas carols and the ground floor of the building was packed with guests. Waitstaff wove in and out of the crowd, offering tall glasses of champagne and appetizers. For once, she was thankful that she’d worn three-inch heels, because she was tall enough to see over everyone. Lilly and Donovan stood beneath the massive wall of glass, arm in arm. Behind them, her artwork spanned two full stories. Awed, Diana stepped over to the sidewall provided by the elevator bank so she could study the glass without being in everyone’s way.

  She couldn’t believe that much detail could be created in glass. Boats lined the wall, from huge ocean liners loaded with shipping packets to smaller fishing boats. Salmon and crab, ropes and anchors, every chain link in perfect clarity, followed by waves in gorgeous blues and whites so real she could almost hear the roar of the ocean and smell its brine. It was absolutely gorgeous, and the scale of it took her breath away.

  “Ms. Temple?”

  She turned her attention from the stained glass to the young woman dressed in the black and white of the waitstaff. She held a silver tray bearing a blue box. It wasn’t wrapped like a present, but she wasn’t sure what it was. “Yes?”

  “This is for you.” The woman smiled, offering the tray. “I’ll hold it steady so you can pour.”

  Pour? Confused, she took the lid off the box and tears filled her eyes. She looked up and quickly scanned the crowd, but she didn’t see anyone familiar. Certainly not his golden hair.

  A crystal bottle of blue-label Johnnie Walker scotch lay inside the box, along with two tulip-shaped tumblers. Fingers shaking, she pulled the glasses out and carefully poured the dark amber whiskey into both.

  “I’ll be nearby when you need a refill,” the young woman said. “If you don’t see me, ask any of the staff for Angela. I’ll find you.”

  Diana took a glass in each hand and nodded her thanks. Angela backed away and winked at someone behind her before disappearing into the crowd.

  Not turning around, Diana waited for him to speak first. She swirled the glass, watching the way the scotch coated the sides. It smelled incredible, like sunshine and flowers, with a hint of smoky peat. Or at least what she imagined smoky peat would smell like.

  “I’ve been waiting to see that look on your face for a long time.” Jackson kissed her left shoulder, a faint brush of his mouth that made her tremble. “Take a drink so I can taste it from your lips, like you did mine at the party.”

  She took a small sip and rolled the whiskey over her tongue. God, it was so smooth, so deep and complex. She’d never tasted anything like it.

  Until he pressed his mouth to hers, his lips soft and open, his tongue sliding into her mouth to sample it with her. She couldn’t drag him close thanks to the tumbl
ers in both hands. Probably for the best. She didn’t want to make a spectacle of herself at Lilly’s big celebration. He lifted his head and gave her a lazy, smug smile.

  “You’re pretty pleased with yourself.”

  “Mmmm, yes, I am.” He took one of the glasses from her so he could link arms with her. Turning around, he led her into the waiting elevator and pushed the button for the top floor. “I missed you.”

  Her throat ached but she managed to smile. “I missed you too. How’d the vote go?”

  “Well, I’m not Mr. Sophia Larsen if that’s what you’re worried about. Mom kicked his ass, like I knew she would.”

  “Mom, not Ellen?”

  His mouth quirked, revealing a killer dimple. How on earth had she not noticed it before? All she wanted to do was lick the slight indention. And then make him laugh and smile for the rest of his life. “We worked some things out. Since I’m not at the firm any longer, I don’t have to worry about being so proper all the time.”

  Not at the firm any longer. Her hand trembled enough that some of the whiskey sloshed out on her hand. Without thinking, she lifted it to her mouth and licked it off. She caught his smoldering gaze and snorted. “I’m not going to waste it. How much does this stuff cost anyway?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  The door slid open and they stepped out into a dimly lit office space. Morgan Industries was emblazoned across the front of the receptionist’s counter. Dark wood paneling and marble floors screamed money and lots of it.

  He pointed to the door behind the desk. “Donovan’s office.” Turning them both around to the right, he paused in front of a wall of glass. Behind the glass, another receptionist desk waited, less formal but no less expensive looking, and another paneled office. It took her a minute for her eyes to make sense of the golden lettering on the wall.

  Jackson Montgomery Warring.

  “If I’d known what a hard-ass boss Donovan would end up being, I’d never have agreed to come work for him. Can you believe that the man refuses to let me start until after the first of the year? He thinks I need a long vacation. Buy a house, he says. Take long naps. Go for walks. As if I’d want to walk around in a blizzard.” Jackson stepped up and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest. “But one piece of advice he gave me I can totally get behind.”