Priceless: Contemporary Billionaire Romance Novel

by Hawthorne, Aria

  Miles raced to calculate in his mind the potential loss of both lease deals.

  “Maybe,” he hit back. “Or maybe I just sue Gillian for breach of fiduciary duties, just to shake her up.”

  “Brax, this isn’t the time to play revenge within your personal life. If you’ve been fucking her, and now she’s pissed off at you for not calling, call her, and get these deals back on track. Then, dump her after the ink is dry. But don’t blow her off now.”

  Miles looked over at Maribel. She was organizing and re-organizing the kitchen, peering into cabinets and drawers, scoping out all the cookware and kitchen utensils that had remained untouched for months. She pulled out the eggs from the refrigerator, cracked them into a bowl, and whisked them with milk. She was preparing scrambled eggs. He loved scrambled eggs.

  “Christ, Brax… who the hell is doing all that banging? Your cat?”

  “I don’t have a cat. Just a small mouse.”

  “Some fucking mouse.”

  Miles pulled the phone away from his ear. Gary’s swearing was grating on him. Miles wondered if he used to sound that way. He felt the urgency to change.

  “Look, Gary, if Gillian wants to fuc—” he stopped, and reconsidered his words carefully. “If she wants to kill all my deals, then so be it.”

  “Brax, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately but we’re talking about a lot of time and money here. These deals have been in the works for months. You piss away these deals and you’re not going to be able to replace that kind of revenue overnight. Especially in this economy. We’re talking about a big hole in your bottom-line. And for what… ? Because you’ve got a new itch that needs scratching and you’ve decided now is a good time to trade up for a younger, prettier girlfriend?”

  Miles wanted to hang up on him. Every muscle in his body fought the urge to end the call and walk away completely from his life.

  “Gary—shut your mouth and stay the hell out of my personal life.”

  “Okay, okay, fine,“ Gary backed off. “I’m your lawyer, not your conscience. But we’re talking about over a hundred million dollars—and that’s just the three deals Gillian can guillotine now. That’s not even all the future business that she’ll drive to your competition.”

  Miles traced the same sparkling shard of quartz, embedded in the counter. “It’s been easy money for too long, Gary,” he finally said. “Time to make a change.”

  “Ahhh, fuck me, Brax. I hate it when you say that.”

  “Well, good… then you’re used to it.”

  “Brax,” Gary said, giving it one last kick at the can, “Gillian’s acting like a scorned woman. And a scorned woman is nothing but a bitch-on-wheels. I don’t know what happened or what you did to her, but just make sure you know what you’re doing.”

  “I always do.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Gary laughed with sudden relief because they both knew it was true. “And Brax… she must be some fucking stellar special mouse.”

  Miles smirked, watching Maribel cook scrambled eggs in her rosebud pajamas and bunny slippers. “She is, Gary. She is.”

  He hung up and flipped over his cell phone, face down on the countertop.

  “Work…?” she asked.

  He nodded, but didn’t offer more. Instead, his eyes gazed out across the crystal waters of Lake Michigan, trimmed with ribbons of floating ice like frosting. It was going to be a beautiful, winter day. He tried hard not to think about all the ways he was going to lose millions of dollars.

  “I have to go into work at one o’clock,” Maribel reminded him. “Maybe we could go to the library before then. I love wandering through their exhibit halls on the ninth floor. We can even sneak into the Winter Garden. Its skylight atrium is amazing. Plus, it’s the perfect day for it.”

  “The library?” Miles arched his eyebrow.

  Maribel’s eyes narrowed at him. “Yeah, you know… a big public building where poor people congregate and borrow used books.”

  “Ahhhhh…I see,” he softened the edge in his voice and circled around the island, attempting to reconcile her wounded pride with his embrace.

  “You might even find something that you like there.”

  “I already found something I like,” he whispered in her ear with a kiss.

  She tried to shrug away, but he refused to let her go. He tongued her ear lobe and covered her mouth with his own, kissing her with long, intense gestures of forgiveness—until he was certain she would no longer flee from him. Then, he looked down at his plate of perfectly prepared scrambled eggs.

  “The library, huh?” Miles considered the last time he had sat down to read anything for pleasure. It had been years. He nudged her lips for another kiss. “Sounds perfect.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Maribel spent the first hour of work, reorganizing all the jewelry cases, daydreaming about Miles. It had been hard to stop thinking about him. They had spent the entire morning together at the downtown public library—one of Maribel’s favorite places in the Loop. They admired a few post-modern paintings, peered into the Winter Garden, and settled themselves on the seventh floor, drifting through the language and literature resources section while holding hands and silently leafing through stacks and stacks of literary classics. They had only been together three days, but already she felt like she couldn’t wait to see him again. Before last night, she had been anxious about staying overnight at his apartment. She didn’t want to move too far, too fast into something that could be over before she even had a chance to understand it. But after their night together—last night—everything changed for her.

  From the beginning—from the very first moment he spoke to her three days ago—Miles made her feel like she was the only thing of value in his life. And when he undressed her… God, yes, when he undressed her… he made her feel like she was the only one who held the power to satisfy him. She had tested him last night, holding herself back because she needed reassurance that it was all more than just sex to him. He had sensed her reservations and gave her the lead. Now, she couldn’t stop thinking about all the way he had pleasured her last night—the way he massaged her breasts and sucked her nipples; the way he had encouraged her to touch herself in front of him while he licked her most private parts and let her gush for him; the way he fingered her from behind, spreading open her backside and sliding his erection between her cheeks, stimulating her with his slick tip. The way she felt herself dilate with every tuck, slowly opening, then closing with heavy anticipation; the way he groped her thighs and backside before penetrating her with yearning. She still burned with the searing sensation of his firmness, and considered how Miles drove deep—deeper than she ever thought possible—inside her and discharged all her defenses.

  Last night, Miles had sealed their connection with the deepest intimacy Maribel had ever known. But most importantly, he had articulated it with his whispering confession—I’m going to fall in love with you, Maribel Martinez. Maribel tried hard not to consider whether or not it would come true. For now, she simply wanted to replay in her mind all the ways he had tried to prove it to her.

  No, she couldn’t stop thinking about him—or his intimate touch. She could only mindlessly rearrange all the jewelry pieces in the cases, and fix her eyes on the luxury watches, considering every minute that ticked, ticked, ticked by, which brought her closer to another night with him.

  “Hello, I’d like to buy some jewelry.”

  The woman’s sharp voice interrupted Maribel’s thoughts. Mink coat. Diamond ring. Alligator leather purse. The woman was a serious customer.

  “Yes, of course.” Maribel quickly closed the case and turned to assist the woman. “How may I help you?”

  “What’s your most popular item?”

  “Well, we have so many lovely pieces to choose from… it simply depends on your tastes and preferences.”

  “Gold,” the woman laughed with abrupt candor. “And expensive.”

  It was almost a hiss. Maribel noted the woman’s bri
ght white teeth and shining smile.

  “Gold,” Maribel repeated. “Yellow or white?”

  “Yellow, of course,” the woman cried out, as if it was obvious. Then, her feline eyes dropped down onto both Maribel’s wrists.

  “Although I must say… those are very nice. From here?”

  “The tennis bracelet, no. But the watch, yes.”

  “Lovely,” The woman nodded. “And that…?” Her eyes flicked at Maribel’s ruby pendant.

  “Yes, from here as well,” Maribel answered slowly, “Would you like to see our necklaces? We have a wonderful selection.”

  “Why not,” the woman laughed again, slipping her red fingernails across the top of the glass counter with a rap, rap, rap.

  Maribel carefully considered all the options, then pulled out three choices and lay them onto the countertop.

  “Each of these necklaces is stylish and sophisticated, but each has its own specific flare—a short modern chocker with Japanese pearls; a long braided chain with a twist diamond pendant; and a gold cable link chain with multi-colored gemstones…”

  “I’ll take all three,” the woman said without a beat.

  Maribel paused, replaying the woman’s words to be sure she had heard “all three” correctly. The woman gazed at Maribel with confidence. There was something about her that made Maribel feel inferior. Her impatience. Her dominance. Her ability to know exactly what she wanted without even needing to weigh all her options. There was no hesitation in her voice; there was only chilling certainty.

  “Okay, yes… wonderful.”

  “Separate boxes, of course.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Then, the woman slipped her credit card across to Maribel.

  Maribel lifted up each necklace from the counter, turned to the register, and scanned the tags. $4,556.51. Maribel couldn’t believe the total. She double checked the screen, then confirmed the description of each item. Almost five-thousand dollars. Maribel felt certain the woman would purchase one necklace… or maybe even earrings. She never expected she would purchase all three. When Maribel returned to the counter with the printed receipt, she noticed the woman gazing down at her ladybug slippers.

  “Comfortable?”

  “Yes,” Maribel flushed. “I have to stand all day, so heels can be a little much.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes, sizing up Maribel.

  “You’re really very modest, aren’t you?” she snickered, as if it was the funniest observation in the world. “It’s a good thing you’ve got such sparkling jewelry to spice you up.”

  Maribel suddenly felt uneasy. “Just your signature,” she offered and quickly returned to the register to finish the gift boxes.

  “You know, I don’t usually shop here. I prefer Tiffany’s or Gucci. This is a bit low-end for me.”

  Maribel felt the sting of the comment, but kept focused. Her hands trembled as she clipped off the tags and rearranged the first necklace under tissue paper. “We try to cater to all tastes and budgets.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” the woman hissed through her white teeth. “I think, in the end, I’ve changed my mind.” She slid the signed receipt back across the counter. “I’ll only take the pearl choker and multi-colored gemstone necklace. You can credit the third as a return without any trouble, I’m sure.”

  Almost five-thousand dollars. Maribel knew it had been too easy. She pulled the diamond pendant necklace out of its gift box—the most expensive of all three necklaces—and returned it to the case. Then, she rescanned its clipped tag, and swiped the woman’s credit card to produce the refund receipt.

  “I’ll just need your signature again,” Maribel said, offering the woman the remaining two necklaces, boxed up in a sleek shopping bag.

  “Oops, looks like I’ve changed my mind again.” The woman’s sly eyes glazed over Maribel. “Won’t be needing this one either.”

  The woman removed one of the boxes from the bag and pushed it back across the counter, then scrawled her signature across the first refund receipt. Maribel stopped and looked down at its illegible writing. Why had she thought this woman was a serious customer? Now, Maribel couldn’t say. She took back the second box and returned to the register. She processed the second refund and slid its receipt into the woman’s red lacquered fingernails.

  “Oops, changed my mind again… looks like I won’t be needing any jewelry after all.”

  “Gillian—” Miles’ voice cut across the Grand Lobby. Maribel spotted him, charging towards her and the woman.

  Gillian. Maribel had remembered the name and the way Miles’ expression changed every time he answered her phone call. The woman quickly took back her credit card and the shopping bag, and whisked away to meet him.

  “Fancy meeting you here, handsome,” Gillian touched Miles’ cheek with her hand, but he resisted it and glanced over at Maribel.

  “Don’t—” he said to her with stern eyes.

  They know each other well. Maribel tried hard not to stare.

  “Just finishing up a little shopping. We’re closing the Olson & Anderson deal with Harvey Zale, and I thought that I would treat myself to something special. But then I realized I prefer a more upscale experience.” Gillian finished her words like she was finishing a dry wine. “Really, Miles…I expected more from you.” Her eyes flicked over at Maribel, who peered back at them.

  “And I expected nothing less from you.”

  Gillian smirked and touched his tie. “When you get bored, give me a call.”

  Miles let her walk away without looking back. His jaw flinched, then he turned to survey the damage.

  “Who is she?”

  “My ex-real estate broker.”

  “Is that all?” Maribel’s eyes confronted him. She wanted Miles to know that she was modest, but not stupid.

  Miles approached the counter and suddenly covered her hand with tenderness. She attempted to pull away. Someone might see them together, Maribel petitioned him with her eyes.

  I don’t care, he told her with his cool blue stare and secured her hand.

  “We’re meeting again tonight.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I don’t know… perhaps it’s better for me to go home tonight.”

  “Don’t—don’t do this.”

  Their eyes locked. Maribel had forgotten that he had spent every moment with her for the past three days; he knew when her pride had been wounded.

  “I’m sorry you had to deal with Gillian. She’s my headache, not yours. Please, tell me you’re coming back to spend the night with me. Please…”

  It was impossible to resist his earnest gaze, promising her that he would make it up to her. He was dressed in a shale grey suit and glacial shirt and tie. His hair was slick wet, fresh from a shower and shave, and his complexion radiated with warmth under the glare of the department store lights. Miles always looked so powerful and handsome during the work day. It was hard to say “no” to him.

  “What’s for dinner?” she suddenly asked with a reluctant smile.

  “Soft tacos and fried ice cream.”

  He smiled at her. She smiled wider. It was her favorite, and he knew it.

  * * * *

  Maribel inhaled as the frozen ball of vanilla fried ice cream balanced itself on her tummy; she savored its cold sting against her skin. They had eaten dinner in his penthouse—and then moved onto dessert. She had finished her fried ice cream after their meal. He had saved his serving—until now. He had turned off all the lights in the kitchen and moved to undress her—sweater, bra, skirt, stockings, panties—by the light of the moon. Then, he undressed himself—shirt, tie, shoes, pants, socks, boxers—before spreading their naked bodies across the cool hard surface of the granite island. She was his sacrificial offering and he had planned to indulge in her.

  Miles slid the fried ice cream ball across her bare tummy and down to the tip of her pubic bone. Maribel shivered with anticipation, feeling the sleek polished granite against her arms and back, the sting of the fri
ed ice cream between her legs, and the warmth of Miles’ hands, snaking her closer and closer towards him. He dangled her knees off the edge and exhaled his breath between her legs. Yes, she kneeeeeeeeeeeeew him now… Maribel sighed and relaxed, just like he wanted. She knew how much he loved the challenge of lowering her defenses, arousing her with restraint before priming her with the introduction of something dominating and taboo. Maribel felt the cool stream of ice cream drip, drip, drip down over her crotch and pressed her palms against the hard granite. Then, she felt him slowly lick her—cautiously, sensually, making sure not to enter her too fast until he had secured her consent. Yes, he always secured her consent. Maribel had fantasized about him all day, owning her in this way. When he was certain that she would not push him away or refuse more, he lowered his chin again and delved deeper, devouring the combined sweetness of the melting ice cream and her gushing wetness. She shuttered with each hot flick of his tongue. God, he knew her body so well, better than she knew it herself. His lifted his eyes in the darkness and told her want he wanted—to bring her to climax with just his tongue. Maribel didn’t know if she could do it. Miles dropped the ice cream ball between her legs and ate away part of its crust, then touched its stark velvet cream against Maribel’s clit. She shuttered again, sparked by the nip of polar ice, before surrendering to the rushing warmth of Miles’ mouth, pleasuring her deeper, and deeper, and deeper than ever before.

  Maribel exhaled and raised her arms above her head, nodding to herself. Yes, yes, yes, yes…she would try…how could she not try. Miles took her cue and knelt before her, raising her feet—one at a time—onto the strong arcs of his bare shoulders before shifting her whole pelvis deeper into his mouth. God, yessssssss… Maribel dug in her heels and arched her back. He spread open her cheeks and savored her. God, yessssssssssss…. She fell into a daze and gazed over at the moon. It illuminated their ghosted reflection in the panoramic glass. It was as if she was watching someone else—someone prettier, sexier, naughtier—submitting to the dizzying sensation of pure sexual domination. She could feel him, fully consuming her now—licking her clit with his tongue, then lapping her wetness. Her whole body quaked with the palpitating rhythm of his stimulation. Suddenly, she sighed and released control of every aspect of her femininity with a primal heave. Miles secured her backside into his hands and delve deeper with one final attempt to unleash her. She shuttered with convulsions, unlocking her climax in a way that made her whole body spasm with violence before wilting with an overwhelming sense of relaxation.