by Sloan, C. T.
After falsifying her resume to land a plum job at a Los Angeles hedge fund, Sarah Salamuri has found herself at the service of her alpha male billionaire boss. From the bedroom to the boardroom, Sarah serves the potent and demanding Mr. Peak in a series of dangerous missions to seduce the most powerful and feared men on Earth.
Mere days after securing insider information from a high-powered Australian gold tycoon, Sarah helped Mr. Peak engineer the overthrow of the former Soviet bloc nation of Odostan. By successfully surviving a dangerous encounter with Odostan’s heir apparent, Sergy Molidak, young Sarah has shown herself to be a formidable weapon in her boss’s arsenal.
Today, Mr. Peak has expanded his power and influence across the globe. And scrutiny is sure to follow. The alpha male billionaire knows that the media is a mighty force that can bring down any man. He also knows that the media is easily swayed by young and untouched beauty. Beauty than can seduce and deceive the world - a role which Sarah is born to play.
On one of New York high society’s biggest nights, Sarah is introduced as Mr. Peak’s “New Girl.” The 20-year old debutante wows the crowd with her youth, her beauty and her razor sharp wit. Even Mr. Peak is impressed by the way little Sarah handles the hostile New York press.
Now Sarah finds herself the center of attention of the media world. Newspaper and magazine articles are sure to follow. Blogs will obsess over her style choices. Sarah will soon become the toast of the celebrity world. However, with fame and fortune come unexpected dangers which threaten to take down this newest rising star.
The Final Seduction
(The Billionaire’s Way) Book 3
By C.T. Sloan
The following work is for private use only and may not be re-published, all or in part, without express written consent of the publisher.
Copyright 2012 MC73 Publishing
The limo is taking me to my first big photo shoot. Everything is happening so fast that I can not comprehend what is happening to me. It’s been less than a week since my official coming out party as Mr. Peak’s “girl.” Since then, there have been interviews and party invitations. But this is getting to be too much!
The limo stops in front of a contemporary building down in Soho. An assistant leads me inside. I am taken to the rooftop patio where I will be participating in a photo shoot with other women who are equally famous yet much more accomplished than myself.
The other women are all glamorous beyond words. I feel like I should be fetching someone coffee. I am escorted to a makeup and hair area where I will be made beautiful for the cameras. Gee, I hope they can work their magic on my ordinary features.
After an hour of serious work by the hair and make-up department, I am taken to my spot for the shoot. The photographer barks her orders at the assistants who ensure the lighting is perfect. All of the other women around me act as though this is a natural day at the office. I, on the other hand, am about ready to freak out.
I can’t believe I am standing here. Next to me is a famous Academy Award winning actress. On the other side of me is the CEO of one of the top fashion houses in Manhattan. The ten of us have one thing in common. We have been named, by Vanity Fair, as the Ten Most Intriguing Women in New York.
My mind flashes back to that fateful last Sunday when I was introduced as Mr. Peak’s girl at the Met Gala. The media started asking me questions. They started yelling my name. At the beginning of the party, I found myself rubbing elbows with the richest, most famous and most powerful people in New York.
The next day, I was famous.
I’ll never forget opening up the New York Post and saying my photo inside. “The Billionaire’s Brash Babe” read the headline. The phone started to ring right away with requests for interviews, endorsement deals and photoshoots. One modeling agency even offered to sign me on the spot. This whole week has been a whirlwind of attention.
Mr. Peak is more than happy to see me gain all of this attention. After all, it makes him look good. My controlling boss gets an exciting, hot girlfriend which is a product of his invention. He doesn’t have to worry about me getting carried away with the attention. I know that if my head gets too big, my bottom will get a spanking.
When Vanity Fair called and asked me to attend today’s photo shoot, I made sure it was okay with my big boss. “Go ahead. Have some fun,” Mr. Peak says.
I kiss him on the cheek and assure him, “Sir, I will make you look good!”
So here I am, wearing a simple black Prada dress with spaghetti straps amongst New York’s most famous models, actresses, designers and writers. All the women tell me I look gorgeous and that my face is very photogenic. I still don’t know if they mean it or if they are just trying to kiss my ass. Either way, I’ll take it.
The photographer takes a group photo as the sun begins to set over Central Park. The view is magnificent. We are all literally on top of the world. As the shoot winds down, I find more and more of the people staring at me. Yes, out of the ten, I am the least known. I am the “enigma.”
When the shoot is over, my PR rep runs up and smiles. She is nearly ready to jump out of her skin. “I don’t know how to tell you this but J.T. Marcos wants to meet with you.” I nearly pass out. J.T. Marcos is pretty much the hottest director in Hollywood right now. The 30 year old phenom is known for his star-making roles. Everyone in Hollywood wants to work with this guy. And he wants to meet me. I can’t wait to tell Mr. Peak.
I walk with my PR rep down to the elevators. We get to the ground floor of the building. As we walk out, about a dozen paparazzi guys are flashing shots. I look behind me wondering which of the famous girls are being photographed. I realize there is no one behind me. Oh my God. All of these photographers were waiting for me.
We rush into a Rolls-Royce Phantom and take off to Mr. Peak’s townhouse. The PR girl looks at me with a smile and says, “I have never seen someone get so famous so fast.”
I giggle and tell her, “I’m just doing my job.”
We get to the townhouse. As we open the door to the Rolls Royce, three more photographers are waiting for me on the sidewalk. One of the guys steps between me and the townhouse. I instinctively swat his camera to the side. “Bitch!” the photographer yells at me.
I give him the middle finger and tell him to, “Go fuck your mother!” Wow. I must be in New York too long.
When I get inside, Mr. Peak’s assistant Gabe is waiting for me. “How was the shoot, Miss Sulamari?”
“Excellent.”
“Mr. Peak is in the Library.”
“Thank you, Gabe.”
I opt to take the stairs to the second floor library. I can’t wait to tell my boss about the meeting with J.T. Marcos. My mind begins to race with the possibilities as to why the hottest director in Hollywood wants to meet with me. Maybe I will be cast in a movie. Fuck, I may become a movie star!
I skip into the library like an excited little girl who just got an A on her math test. “Mr. Peak! Mr. Peak!” I blurt out. My boss lifts his head from a book and gives me this stare that instantly makes me freeze.
He stands up and puts the book down next to a table. “You seem excited about something little Sarah.”
“I am going to meet J.T. Marcos.”
Mr. Peak’s face draws a blank. This is a man who spends his days and nights studying finance and politics. Celebrity and pop culture are most definitely two things that he could give a squat about.
I smile and tell my boss proudly, “He is the biggest and hottest movie director in Hollywood!” Mr. Peak rolls his eyes. Oh my God. What did I do wrong? Does he not approve. How could he think that way. I would never question my boss, but per
haps I should explain this opportunity I have in front of me.
As I open my mouth, my boss puts up his hand. “He only wants to fuck you.”
“But sir.”
“You are hot right now. Everyone wants a piece of your fame. And some guys will want a piece of you. The fact that this director guy wants to talk to you tells me he is up to no good. Sarah, you are an artist of deception. But you are not an actress.”
“I can learn, Sir. I can be a great actress,” I beg.
Mr. Peak pulls out his iPhone. He looks at it oddly. Then he points it at me. “So you want to be in a movie. I’ll put you in a movie,” my boss says to me.
Now it’s obvious he has the video camera turned in my direction.
Mr. Peak walks up to me and puts his strong hand on my face. All the anger and frustration instantly flows away from my body. Dammit. This guy knows how to really manipulate me.
“Take off your shirt.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I unbutton my blouse slowly, seductively. I want to please my boss. He pulls open the blouse. “I love the way your tits are stuffed in your bra,” he growls.
I pull the shirt off. Mr. Peak spins me around and unhooks my bra. The cool air brushes against my bare breasts.
Mr. Peak turns me around and runs the camera up and down my body. “You will always be my star,” he says as he pulls down my skirt.
My knees get weak. Mr. Peak pulls down my underwear and orders me to walk to the window. “I want you to bend over slightly. Put that young ass of yours up into the air,” Mr. Peak orders.
I look out into the street below. I listen to my boss get undressed. Mr. Peak walks up behind me and presses his hard manhood against my ass.
Mr. Peak pulls on my hair while he dry-humps me. “Now, this is the kind of movie I will watch over and over with you again,” my boss brags as I feel his hard cock against my flesh. Mr. Peak kisses my neck and then he bites my ear.
I feel the man’s strong forearm come across my neck. He pushes my head down and slowly enters me from behind. I press my hands against the window as Mr. Peak starts to fuck me. I can feel the heat from my boss’s strong body. I can hear his animalistic grunts as he has his way with my body.
Mr. Peak shows me no mercy. He chokes me out until I start to gag. My entire naked body is pressed up against the window. I can only imagine what the blue-blood neighbors must be thinking.
My boss presses the side of my face against the window. I moan and scream as Mr. Peak’s powerful thrusts reverberate throughout my body. I cum so hard that I just collapse to the floor, in a puddle of my own sweat.
When I look up, Mr. Peak’s hard, wet body looms over me. He holds the camera over me. “You look so nice down there, huddled up in the fetal position,” my boss taunts as he slowly pans the camera over my body. “Stay like that for a while,” Mr. Peak orders as he takes a wide angle shot of me against the window.
As I look out over the city street, I forgot what prompted Mr. Peak to give me an unprovoked afternoon railing. Oh yeah, that’s right. I told him I was going to meet with the hottest director in Hollywood. Damn, I can’t even remember the director’s name. Mr. Peak literally fucked my brains out.
It takes me a good five minutes to power-up the will to get onto my feet. When I stumble my way to the shower, I see my six-foot, five-inch alpha male boss waiting for me. “What took you so long?!” my boss asks.
“I was exhausted, sir.”
“Exhausted! I was the one doing all of the work.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Now, be a good girl and scrub me down.”
Mr. Peak doesn’t have to ask me twice. It would be my pleasure.
I don’t know what part of Mr. Peak is my favorite. His chest is just a wall of power. I take a large sponge and run large circles across that fifty-two inch chest. Then there is Mr. Peak’s eyes. They are deep, penetrating brown eyes. He can look at you and he can look through you all at the same time. Then there my boss’s strong muscular arms. Just looking at those muscles makes me melt. Oh and don’t let me forget that ass. You can bounce a quarter of that strong backside. I squeeze the sponge and watch the suds just cascade over that sculpted rump. Nice!
Of course, there is what’s between my boss’s legs. Sometimes, I am scared to even look at it. Let’s just say I love the way it feels inside of me!
After the shower, we relax in the living room. I turn on the TV and watch the E! Channel. Mr. Peak checks the financial news on his iPad. It doesn’t take five minutes before I see my own face on TV. I sit up and stare. Though I have seen myself in dozens of newspaper and tabloid articles, this is the first time I am seeing myself on TV.
I just stare. A sudden burst of electricity runs through my body as the reporter talks about me. “The New York social scene is abuzz with the sudden rise of Manhattan socialite Sarah Sulamari, the main squeeze of reclusive hedge fund billionaire Ryan Peak. At last week’s Met Gala, the 20-year old employee at Mr. Peak’s hedge fund turned heads with a Vera Wang dress and a sharp tongue to the paparazzi,” the reporter announces as they replay my red carpet walk.
I look over at my boss, who never even lifts his head. Mr. Peak is completely immersed in his financial news. I lean in and whisper into his ear, “They are talking about me on TV.” Mr. Peak strokes my hair as a way to acknowledge me and as a way to control my outburst.
We cuddle together while I take in some more celebrity news. My boss speed-reads through some of the most complex financial information imaginable. As the afternoon wears on, Mr. Peak gets up and tells me that he has to go back into the office.
“Would you like me to go with you, Sir?” I ask.
“Why don’t you stay here and book us a dinner tonight. 10 p.m. Use my name. No one in the city will deny us a table.”
I smile. Sure, my boss is completely immersed in his work. However, he always has time for me.
I give Mr. Peak a nice, big kiss before he goes back into the office. I feel so pumped up that I decide to do a half hour on the stationary bike in the town home’s gym. I have never felt so alive as right now.
As I work up a nice sweat, Mr. Peak’s butler appears outside the home gym’s entrance and clears his throat. “Miss Sulamari, there is a guest at the door.”
“Oh, do you know who it is?”
“He is J.T. Marcos.”
I stop cycling. J.T. Marcos - the hottest director in Hollywood. He is here in the city! He wants to see me.
I hop off of the bike and instantly get rattled. I look at the butler. “Tell him I’m coming! I’m coming!” I yell to the butler. Oh fuck! I’m sweaty. I strip off my clothes and rush into the gym’s shower. I can’t believe the director just popped on over unannounced. This could be my big break in the movies. Of course, this is something Mr. Peak may not want. Dammit! My boss can’t get mad at me for simply meeting with the director.
In no time I’m out of the shower and wrapped in a towel. I run up to the elevator and travel to the fifth floor. Fuck! What should I wear?! I throw on a little red dress. Then I dash back to the elevator and head to the ground floor.
When the door opens, I take a deep breath and walk over to the town home’s reception area. J.T. Marcos is leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette. He is a tall, thin younger guy dressed in a leather jacket, sunglasses with ripped and faded blue jeans. The guy has that skanky “I don’t give a fuck” attitude that I used to fall for when I was in High School.
“Mr. Marcos!” I say.
The director takes off his sunglasses and smiles. “Call me James,” he says as he gives me a hug.
“I wasn’t expecting you. This is a surprise.”
J.T. Marcos looks me up and down. “I had to see you in person before I fly back to the West Coast. I just wanted to confirm what was in my head.”
“And what is in your head?”
“That you could play the title role in my next film.”
Oh come on. This guy has to be fucking with me. Anyone who acts
in J.T. Marcos’s films becomes a sought after commodity in Hollywood. I have never even acted in front of a camera.
J.T. Marcos continues his unabashed appraisal of me. I immediately become self-conscious. “Why don’t you just walk around a bit. I want to see you move,” the director says. I oblige. Boy, does this feel awkward.
The director shakes his head. The he pulls out his iPhone and begins to film me. All of a sudden, I start to strut around a bit. I swing my hips. I push my chest out. I begin to seduce him with my walk. “There you go,” J.T. Marcos says to me. “Perhaps all you need is a camera pointed at you.”
He’s right. The camera does have an effect on me. J.T. Marcos continues to videotape me, which only makes me more animated, more excited and more comfortable in front of the highly regarded director.
J.T. Marcos turns off the iPhone and drops it in his pocket. “Do you have a place where we can sit down?” the director asks.