The Heir & I: Taming The Billionaire

by Lara Hunter

  Harry Clark trusts me. How will he feel if he finds out I’ve lied to him, deceived him? And how will I feel when I’m walking the unemployment line?

  I also wondered if I was really doing Oliver a favor by carrying out his deceptive little charade; or if I was simply aiding and unabedding the continuation of a lifestyle that could cost him his future?

  As I came to a deciscion, my body finally relaxed in the depths of my bed. On Monday morning I’ll simply tell him that the answer is no.

  Of course, that answer was mighty easy to formulate when I wasn’t standing in front of him, staring into those big brown eyes. And when he wasn’t busy kissing away every ounce of good sense I had…

  Chapter Four

  ~

  Oliver

  What was happening to me?

  I generally spent my weekends in the company of a hot young blonde, enjoying outdoor pursuits that included boating, parasailing, and horseback riding; plus indoor pursuits that included watching flicks on my big screen TV and… well, watching some more flicks on my big screen TV. And doing other things with my bevy of beautiful young companions that did not involve the use of any electronic devices; well, not on a general basis, anyway…

  Following my date with Lily, though, I managed to spend the next two days all alone and ensconced in my townhouse; my emotions veering wildly as I considered the events of Friday night.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful Lily looked on our date, and the passion of her kiss; I just couldn’t believe I had worked with this woman every day and failed to notice her radiance, no, her out and out sexiness! Where, I wondered, had this amazing woman been hiding all this time? And why hadn’t I made more of an effort to bring out her sexier, more feminine side?

  Of course, I myself already knew the answer to this question; even I realized all too well the dangers of mixing business with pleasure. I had made the mistake of getting involved with several of my previous assistants, many of which I had handpicked because of skills and assets that had little to do with typing or even expert coffee making and had been forced to deal with the consequences. For a while I was careful never to pressure or in any way harass any woman in my employ. Indeed, given the number of kisses, embraces and pinches in delicate places I received on a daily basis, I was the one that often felt objectified and, mind you, I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it, I had engaged in office affairs with a number of my previous assistants. And inevitably, the situation would blow up in my face; resulting in arguments, distractions, and lost work productivity. This is why my father had insisted on hiring my next PA himself; basing this hire on the education and intellectual qualifications of each candidate that applied, as opposed to, say, her measurements and makeup application techniques.

  In Lily Ashton, Dad had found an intelligent, capable woman that wasn’t likely to distract me with her obvious charms. Why, then, did I now feel ‘charmed’ to the point of distraction? Why couldn’t I stop thinking about the Lily in bloom; the glamorous, funny, sexy, and totally captivating woman that I was just really getting to know? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spent such an enjoyable evening with a lady… and what a lady she was, amazing me with her charm, beauty and humor. I’d wanted to kiss her all evening; and when I finally did, the pleasure and excitement that I felt nearly overwhelmed me.

  Far more than a meaningless tryst, my evening with Lily seemed to symbolize a friendship and professional partnership that had suddenly caught fire; stirring within me certain emotions that I didn’t even know existed. Tenderness. Caring. Even a sense of boyish infatuation that actually made me blush every time I thought of her.

  Even as I basked in the memory of our date, replaying its events over and over again in my mind, I also felt wrought with an unfamiliar tension; an emotion also tied to the woman that seemed to be ruling my mind.

  I knew that the prospect of playing my girlfriend made her uncomfortable; and, as I mentioned earlier, I never wanted to make any of my employees feel harassed or uncomfortable, especially not the woman that aided and supported me so much, and on a daily basis.

  Yet as much as I hated to put her in this tough position, I myself was beginning to really like the idea of our little charade. I relished the idea of enjoying more time with this special, most enchanting woman; exposing her to the theater, the night life, all of the glitz and glamour that our beautiful tropical city had to offer; also showering her with all of the glamorous clothes and glittering baubles that a woman could ask for, trinkets that would do even more to bring out the hidden beauty that I now knew lie deep within her.

  And I just had to admit it; I also looked forward to stealing even more clandestine kisses from my new crush; tasting those cherry red lips, feeling that luscious body tense in my arms as desire tempted and overcame her. I vaguely wondered just what would happen if I tried to take things further; if I made a move to unleash the sensual beast that I sensed lie deep within her.

  Indeed, during the nights that elapsed between our Friday night date and Monday’s work day, I found myself plagued with sensual dreams of this siren I was just coming to know. Again and again I remembered her kiss and the passion it promised and I ventured to dream of what would happen if I tempted her further, exposing her to a whole new world of pleasure that she just might find irresistible.

  Alternately, she might just slap me silly and call me out for the pervert I am. Somebody needs to give me a good slap right now, to straighten me out, to remind me of the fact that I’m entering into this arrangement with Lily just to please my father, and to keep my job and my inheritance. Of course I would continue to see my real girlfriends on the side; and, of course, Lily also would be free to see anyone she liked on the nights that we weren’t together.

  And I won’t be jealous at all, I insisted with a sniff.

  Finally Monday morning arrived. Awakening earlier than usual, I dressed up a bit in the royal blue suit I knew Lily liked; taking special care to comb my hair to perfection and splash on just a hint of the cologne that drove most of my dates insane.

  Of course, Lily wasn’t anything like those girls; and as I finally drove up to the impressive front entrance of our towering office building, I felt much like a nervous school boy ready to meet his teacher. I even felt my heart pound a bit as I exited my car, and I cleared the door of our office suite with no small degree of trepidation; meeting her with a questioning look as I approached her desk.

  “I’ll do it,” she told me, dispensing with all pleasantries as she folded her arms before her. “But on my terms. While we’re at the office, Oliver, we will remain strictly professional, focusing only on our work and on our clients. And while I’d be more than pleased to accompany you to any function, especially the ballet, and to allow you to purchase the occasional gift for me—preferably at Dalton’s Department Store, on the corner of Fifth and Main downtown, right next to Bozo’s Novelty Shop, where I also like to browse on occasion—I cannot and will not provide you with any, ur, personal services.” She paused here, thrusting her hand out in my direction. “Deal?”

  I took her hand in mine and rose it to my lips for a long, smooth kiss. For just a moment we stood in silence, staring at one another as memories of our special evening flooded my mind.

  “Deal,” I whispered, staring deep into her eyes. “And I’d very much like to discuss our arrangement further over dinner. Are you free Wednesday evening?”

  Lily thought for a moment, then nodded.

  “I’ll have to take a second look at my social schedule, but—oh, who am I kidding?” she scoffed, rolling her eyes heavenward. “Give me a free meal and another chance to play dress up, and I’ll be there. Just please keep in mind, of course, that I’m only doing this to help save your hide around here, and mine, for that matter.”

  I nodded.

  “Understood,” I reassured her, adding with arched eyebrows, “I only hope that, while you’re busy saving our hides, you’ll manage to have just a little bit of fun as wel
l.”

  ***

  Lily

  So what was the big deal? I’d been to Dalton’s Department Store dozens of times; but usually only on Clearance Days, or during specially designated holiday sales. This time when I passed its impressive double doors, I was personally escorted back to a room filled with beautiful outfits custom selected for me; dresses and pantsuits emblazoned with my favorite colors of scarlet red, pearl pink and pure ebony; and although these clothing items varied greatly in terms of color and style, their price tags were nearly identical.

  “You. Have. Got. To. Be. Joking.” I shook my head in sheer wonder as I regarded these tags. “I mean, this is absurd. I don’t pay this much in rent each month.”

  I jumped as my words were met with a low, smooth chuckle; one emanating from the man who sat before me in a cherry wood chair at the center of the Dalton’s show room.

  “Don’t look at the price tags, babe,” Oliver said, himself sharply dressed in a sleek white pant suit, waving away my concerns with a dismissive hand. “Just the clothes. Pick out what you like, try it on, and let me know the verdict. Then I shall proceed to buy anything and everything you happen to like. Does that work?”

  I thought a moment, then nodded.

  “My name is not babe, Oliver. It’s Lily,” I informed him, even as I pulled a sleek scarlet dress from its place on a defenseless garment rack and secured it in my hot little hands. “And, yes, that works just fine.”

  Moments later I stood in the Dalton’s dressing room, facing the image of a woman I didn’t know.

  No, my space hadn’t been unexpectedly invaded by a creeper of the female persuasion. I was rather confronted by a mirror image that didn’t seem true to its source. Surely the raven-haired temptress in the sleek, knee length red satin dress wasn’t me. I had no idea that a single dress could be so transformative; accentuating my curves, illuminating my skin and setting off my freshly brushed hair.

  “Wow,” I breathed, turning with a flourish for the door of the dressing room.

  This same sentiment was reflected in the eyes of the man that awaited me in the showroom.

  “Lily,” Oliver breathed, surging from his chair to approach me at the center of the room.

  Taking my hand in his, Oliver raised it high above my head and twirled me in a dramatic flourish; his eyes devouring me from head to toe as he breathed, “A lily in bloom.”

  Snapping his fingers to attract the attention of a nearby sales clerk, Oliver instructed her to find a diamond necklace with matching earbobs; both of us marveling as she produced some brilliant baubles to accompany my stunning new dress.

  “My princess,” he breathed, his sturdy fingers feeling the dazzling gems that lingered at my throat—also grazing the sensitive skin that lay underneath. “You’re just glowing.”

  With gentle hands he turned me in the direction of a nearby mirror; allowing me to witness the shine of the diamonds as they glowed radiant in the lights above us.

  He expressed similar reactions to the next five outfits I tried on; four of which also struck a chord of awe in my slightly dazzled psyche. The pearl pink pantsuit ironically braided with actual, honest to God beads. The black velvet mini dress both sleek and sexy. The azure blue sundress that dipped low at the neck and flared becomingly at the skirt. The ivory lace gown that fell to my feet and rose high at the neck. Each of these apparel pieces was a work of haute couture, sure to render me the belle of the ball at any party, night club or formal function.

  Too bad the last outfit which was a lime green pantsuit that would make Marilyn Monroe appear drab and staid.

  “Breathtaking,” Oliver praised, applauding me in full view of the shop.

  “Bull hockey,” I replied, planting my hands square on my curvaceous hips. “Wait here while I slip back into the red number and we’ll head over to Le Jardin. It’s obvious that your hunger is affecting your eyesight.”

  Soon I found myself back at the site of our first formal date eating a luscious feast of French onion soup, tender, succulent beef bourguinon, creamy au gratin potatoes, and chocolate ganache. The food was heaven on a plate and my companion was heaven on legs. I’d fall just short of calling him an angel…

  “Enjoying yourself, Lily?” Oliver purred, breaking my train of thought irrevocably with his soft, dulcet tones. “I hope so, because I myself am thoroughly enjoying my time with you.”

  I snorted.

  “Now why on earth would I enjoy myself?” I sniffed out, rolling my eyes heavenward. “You’ve bought me a whole new wardrobe, each piece of which carries a price tag that equals my monthly car payment. And you spotted me a diamond necklace that bears a suspicious resemblance to the one my mom had to wait a quarter century for. Indeed, it took my dad all that time to save up for that bauble, which he gave to her as a 25th anniversary gift. Now you’re paying for me to eat a dinner to die for, most components of which I can’t easily pronounce.”

  Oliver chuckled.

  “Oh darling, don’t sell yourself short,” he chided me, adding as he ran his free hand through the tendrils of my hair. “I bet you not only could spell and pronounce each and every one of the dishes we enjoyed today, but you probably could tell me something about their origins, and the master chef that created them. Just like in the department store, when I bought you the Chanel perfume and you told me all about the wonderful life of Coco Chanel.”

  I nodded.

  “I must admit she’s an idol of mine,” I beamed. “In a time when women weren’t supposed to work at all, she worked her way up from nothing, creating an empire that took Paris and the world by storm. What an amazing woman!”

  “Well look who’s talking!” Oliver replied, eyes aglow with what seemed to be tender admiration. “Lily, most of the ladies I date couldn’t even pronounce Coco’s last name. They’d be asking me just which ‘channel’ was sponsoring the perfume, ABC or NBC. And now thanks to you, I have every intention of renting that movie you mentioned, that tells her life story.”

  I grinned.

  “Coco Before Chanel, starring Audrey Tautou and directed by Anne Fontaine—I’m a big aficionado of female directors, from Lupino to Bigelow,” I supplied. “Put it on your Netflix queue, I command you. And if you like, I could also recommend a lot of great books about Coco’s life.”

  “I insist on it,” Oliver agreed, adding as he raised my hand to his full, warm lips for a delectable kiss, “Providing, of course, that you watch the movie with me, filling me in, of course, on any gaps in Coco’s life that the film may have missed.” He paused here, nudging my shoulder with gentle affection as he added, “This is one of the reasons I love the idea of this arrangement, Lily. I want to see everything through your eyes, from the ballet to the theater, books to Broadway plays. I can’t wait to drink in more of your knowledge, both in and out of the office.”

  Covering his hand on my shoulder, I met his affectionate gaze with one of my own as I told him, “Well thanks to you, Oliver, I can actually own and wear some of Coco’s finest perfume and see some of the plays and ballets that until now I’ve only heard about,” I paused here, shaking my head in wonder at the very idea. “I have to admit it, Oliver, I can’t wait to get started. And if I happen to teach you a thing or two along the way, well, all the better.”

  I took in my breath as his fingers clenched mine. Slowly and deliberately his thumb rubbed my palm as he whispered, “And perhaps, Lily, I could teach you a thing or two in return. Things you just might enjoy, very much.”

  Clearing my throat loudly, I wrenched my hand from his and grabbed up my fork.

  “Behave, Oliver,” I chided him, adding as I gestured around us with a very proud and purposeful utensil, “Not in front of the stuffy French restaurant.”

  Two hours later we finished up a sumptuous three course dinner at the center table at Oliver’s favorite French restaurant; and I blushed in spite of myself as he called over a strolling violinist that strolled free across the plush ivory carpeting that lined the floor of
the eatery.