100 Days: A Billionaire Romance

by Alexis Angel

  This is one of these moments I know will become a treasured memory.

  Ah, Malcolm, what are you doing to me?

  12

  Athena

  “C’mon … let it out. I know that smile,” Julia tells me, pushing another martini into my hand. I take it hesitantly, and then just swirl it around, playing with the green olive floating inside the glass.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask her, but even my tone of voice is betraying me right now. Julia can see through me as if she had put a listening device inside my brain; it’s impossible to lie to her.

  “Are you kidding me?” She takes her tequila shot to her lips and then throws her head back, downing the whole thing at once. “God,” she grimaces, sticking her tongue out, and then turns her gaze back to me. “I remember when you started dating Piece of Shit.”

  Ever since Ben broke up with me, Julia refuses to call him by his name. According to her, evil bastards like him don’t deserve to be acknowledged as real human beings.

  “So?”

  “So you have the same dazed smile on your face right now. Which can only mean that…” she trails off, waiting for me to finish her sentence, but I just take a sip of my martini and then shake my head.

  “Uh-uh. You’re wrong. It’s not like that.”

  “It’s exactly like that. You’re falling for Malcolm, aren’t you?” See what I told you? There’s no fooling her.

  “I…” For a fraction of a second, I almost give in to the temptation of trying to feed her some bullshit excuse, but I quickly give up on that. “I don’t know, Julia. I really don’t.”

  “Now I regret ever suggesting you should lose your panties in order not to lose your shirt,” she sighs, waving her finger at the bartender and asking for one more shot of tequila. The bartender, a bearded guy with a bowtie and suspenders, winks at her and turns around to prepare her drink.

  “It’s not like I had a choice, Julia.” I sigh, my gaze wandering over the crowded room. We’re at the Death & Company bar and, despite its grim name, it’s actually a nice place to get shitfaced. Which I kinda need right now. “When Ben came into my office, he --”

  “I knew it! That fucking piece of shit meant trouble!” she shouts drunkenly, snatching her tequila out of the bartender’s hand and drinking it down like a true sailor. She grimaces again, and then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “What did that asshole want?”

  “He threatened me … Or, well, he threatened the company. If I don’t make Malcolm fall in love with me, he’ll leak the tapes.”

  “Fucking bastard,” she mutters under her breath. I don’t need to explain to her about the tapes; that’s a story I’ve already told her long ago.

  “Yeah. So, aside from having to worry about the money, now I also have this on my plate…”

  “And you’re falling in love with Malcolm, don’t forget about that,” she nods sagely, almost as if she really believes I’d forget about such a thing. If anything, I can barely think of anything else. “But that isn’t so bad, right? If you’re falling for him, and if he falls for you… Your company will be safe.”

  “It’s not so simple, Julia,” I tell her with a sigh, finishing my martini and waving the empty glass at the bartender. Like clockwork, he snags the glass in front of me and replaces it with a full one. “Ben wants me to succeed because that means Malcolm will have to pay up the $100 million… and why would Ben want such a thing to happen?”

  “I… uh, I have no idea,” she mumbles.

  “I’m pretty sure he wants to see Malcolm’s company burn. That’s the only explanation for this. And I… I can’t allow that to happen. You’re right…” Another sigh takes over my lips, and then I finally admit it all. “I’m really falling for him.”

  “Shit,” Julia whispers again, setting her empty shot of tequila in front of her. This time she doesn’t ask for another one. “That’s not good. I mean, I’m happy you’ve put an end to that all men suck philosophy of yours, but overall it isn’t looking good.”

  “No, it isn’t looking good,” I repeat after downing my martini with one single gulp. Then, for good measure, I pop the olive into my mouth. It seems that only now that Julia has decided to slow down her drink-all-the-tequila rhythm, I’ve picked up the speed. Matters of the heart and alcohol—I wonder why they always go hand-in-hand.

  “What are you going to do now?” she asks me, and that’s the same question that’s been hammering my mind for the past few days. And, despite spending all my days trying to think of a solution, I still haven’t gotten anywhere. This seems like an unsolvable puzzle, one that I’m being forced to complete all the same.

  “I have no idea,” I sigh, taking the martini to my lips and allowing the bitter liquid to burn its way down my throat, scorching just a bit more of my rationality as it settles on my stomach and escapes into my bloodstream. “All I know is that I can’t let Ben win.”

  “Of course not. That asshole needs to be stopped! He’s using you, and he’ll keep using you and blackmailing you even if you do what he wants…!”

  “I know, I know… God, I’m fucked.”

  She looks at me with her wide eyes, trying to look for the right words, and then she rests one hand on my shoulder and gives me a comforting smile.

  “Yes, you are,” she whispers, and my jaw hangs open slightly.

  “Thank you for the support,” I laugh bitterly, and then ask the bartender for another martini. Maybe if I get drunk enough I won’t dream of all this bullshit tonight.

  “Now, seriously… before you do anything, you need to be sure of Malcolm’s feelings.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that you don’t know him that well, Athena… You’re falling in love, and you’re trying to protect him. I get it, I really do. But you need to be sure he’s worth it.”

  I look at her and smile, nodding. She’s right, of course... but, deep down, I already know that Malcolm’s worth it.

  Why? Because I’m in love.

  13

  Malcolm

  "Love is a burning thing, and it makes a fiery ring, bound by wild desire, I fell into a ring of fire…"

  I change the song with a quick tap on my phone.

  "Oh, and baby I'm fist fighting with fire, just to get close to you, can we burn something, babe? And I run for miles just to get a taste, must be love on the brain, that's got me feeling this way …"

  Tap. Tap.

  "Mind in one place. Heart in another…"

  Tap. Tap.

  Fuck. Since when did everything on my music streaming remind me of Athena? And why is everyone singing about love, anyways? I can't fucking escape her. No matter what I do, no matter where I'm at, no matter how hard I try, she's always there, a ghost haunting every corner of my brain.

  Except, she isn't a ghost at all. She's real. Flesh and blood.

  And I can't get enough of her.

  I stand up from my chair, and pace my office, forcing myself to stretch and move. I look out the windows and across the city skyline, hoping to clear my mind, but every fucking skyscraper looks like a hard cock reaching toward space.

  Great. Now I'm thinking about sex too.

  But a deal is a deal. I have to keep seeing her … or I could dismiss her and see someone else. That's the nature of this game.

  The smart thing to do would be to let her go … but I can't. And normally, the word 'can't' isn't even a fucking part of my vocabulary.

  Athena is even infiltrating my dreams.

  Last night I dreamt that we were in the middle of an ocean—maybe the Pacific? And beds of kelp were wrapping around our ankles as we swam, naked and vulnerable. In my dream she kept slicing her legs through the water, effortless, her hair floating and following the current, her tits buoyant. She kept turning back and looking at me, with a teasing smile on her face, and I was swimming after her, always at arms length, reaching out, moving forward.

  And the fucking funny thing about it was the sense of serenity
in it.

  You think that they opposite would be true, right? But no.

  I shake my head and pull my phone from my pocket because honestly, I don't know what's come over me.

  I scroll through my contacts—Alexis, Angie, April, and then I see her name—Athena.

  The three sweetest syllables ever assembled in one package.

  I press her name, and the phone starts to dial.

  I have no idea why, but I can't sit still. I pace my office, waiting for her to pick up, and with every ring, my pulse quickens.

  "Hello, Mal."

  Oh fuck, just hearing her voice makes my cock twitch.

  "What do you say we do dinner tonight?" I ask, hopeful that she's available.

  There's a pause, and then she answers. "I like the sound of that."

  "Good. I'll text you with a time, and send a driver."

  "And where are we going?" she asks.

  "Leave it to me; that part's a secret."

  "I do love a surprise. I look forward to it."

  We hang up, and I crumple a stray piece of paper into a ball and shoot it into a nearby wastebasket. It bounces on the rim, and falls in, and I pump my fist in the air.

  Score!

  Is this what falling for someone feels like? Better than any drug-induced high?

  If so, how do I pump the breaks when it feels like I'm taking a ride on a runaway train?

  I'll find a way. Malcolm fucking Bane doesn't fall in love. Not now. Not ever.

  Just as I start to send Athena a text with the details for our dinner, the door to my office opens.

  I look up and see a man I never expected to see.

  He's wearing a suit that looks a size too big, and I wonder to myself if he's ever considered seeing a tailor. He has a wide grin on his face that seems to animate his already comical eyebrows. I think he has more hair on his eyebrows than he does his head.

  "I can picture it now," he grins with his caterpillar eyebrows knitting together. He holds his hands up in an expressive gesture. "I'll be kicking my feet up on that desk. Yes, right there. The chair will never do—I'll have that replaced. But the desk can stay."

  "What do you want Ben?"

  "Want? That's funny, Malcolm. I'm just making an observation—taking stock, if you will because soon all of this will be mine. You can go ahead and kiss this view good bye."

  "Get the fuck out of my office," I say, flexing one hand into a fist and shoving it deep inside of my pocket.

  "Oh come on," Ben laughs, "There's no need to get bent out of shape. Let's face it; everyone knows you don't have the money to cover your debts."

  "You don't know anything about me," I say, "Other than the fact that you lost to me once before, and you'll lose again."

  "That's funny. Go ahead and live in that fantasy of yours, but this time, there isn't some small town businessman that you're going to turn into a hero. No, this time, you really fucked up. So, tell me, was she worth it?"

  "Fuck you."

  "And from what angle did you bend her over this desk?" he grins, pointing across the glossy mahogany. "Was it from here? Or over here? No—no, I bet it was from this side so that you could look out across the city that's about to chew you up and spit you out."

  Now he's gone too far.

  I step up close to him, and I can feel my heart kicking in my chest. I shove a stiff finger into his chest.

  "I'm not going to say this again," I say. "Get the fuck out of my office right now, before I make you."

  "Soon to be my office—remember that," Ben says, turning on his heels and walking out the door. "Revenge is sweet."

  As soon as he's gone, I take a few deep breaths, trying to steady my pulse. I'm mad enough to put my fist through a wall, but I won't.

  I can't allow myself to stoop to his level.

  Besides, I have a date with Athena.

  And if there was ever a time that I needed to keep a cool head, it's now.

  14

  Athena

  Do you know that scene in a movie where the man of your dreams is cooking dinner for you, his red tie thrown over his shoulder as he paces around the kitchen? Yeah, that’s happening right now.

  Malcolm invited me to have dinner at his apartment, and that’s where I am right now. Sleek and modernist, his home is even better than I remember it from the booty call night, but what else did I expect from a man famous for how much money he has? Still, even though I suspected there was actually no dinner involved and that it was all a ruse to get me to be alone with him, I came all the same.

  After all, dinner or no dinner, it sounded good.

  When he opened the door and invited me in, though, I couldn’t help but be surprised: with his tie thrown over one shoulder, a kitchen towel draped over the other, I quickly realized that yes, there was actually going to be a dinner… and Malcolm was the one cooking.

  I’m leaning against one of the kitchen walls now, watching as Malcolm stirs a pot and tastes the sauce with his wooden spoon. “Perfect,” he whispers to himself, and then looks back at me over his shoulder. “Spaghetti carbonara. I know it sounds simple, but wait till you try it.”

  “Don’t tell me … that’s your specialty?” I ask him with an amused tone. Turning on his heels, he closes the distance between the two of us and crushes his mouth against mine, one of his hands on my waist.

  “Among other things, yes,” he whispers and then, just as fast as he came, he goes back to the oven. He takes the pot out and then arranges the spaghetti in two dishes. Folding the kitchen towel over his forearm, he grabs the two plates from the counter and starts walking toward the dining room.

  I follow after him, and I stop frozen in place as I see the table he has set in the middle of the room; it’s small and intimate, a red tablecloth thrown over it, and there are three small candles burning in the center of it. It’s like something out of a dream.

  “Come,” he tells me as he sets the plates down on the table. He pulls one chair back as he speaks, and then waves me toward it. My feet carry me there, and it feels as if I’m walking on clouds.

  “Thank you,” I tell him, feeling like a girl on her first date.

  Uh-uh, this isn’t good, Athena. Remember what happens when you fall in love. Men are all the same. I hear that voice again, one of distrust and fear, and I do my best to push it to a dark corner in my mind. Right now I don’t want to be bogged down by cold rationality; I want to enjoy the moment, to be swept off my feet and treated like a real princess.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Malcolm says as he sits across from me, and I just smile at him, completely at a loss for words. Wetting my lips, I then manage to form a coherent sentence.

  “You really know how to impress a woman, don’t you?” I ask him, not even bothering with hiding the fact that I’m impressed by everything he has prepared for the evening.

  “Just wait till I put on a Michael Bublé record,” he laughs quietly, and then just offers me his delicious smile.

  “I thought you were more of a Michael Bolton kind of man,” I shoot right back at him, enjoying our little back and forth banter.

  “Maybe that’s my dark secret,” he starts, but then his smile becomes a more serious one. Not really,” he says, reaching across the table and laying his hand on top of mine. His touch is warm and soft, and it sends a shiver up my spine. “I’ve actually never tried to impress a woman … and I never cooked for one before. As weird as it may sound.”

  “It does sound weird, yeah. But I’m flattered,” I laugh as I look him in the eyes, the warmness of his touch spreading all over my body. Seriously, why can’t I be around him without feeling like this? I just can’t think straight whenever I’m close to him.

  “But then again, I’ve never failed to fuck a woman when I wanted to… until I met you,” he says, his soft smile turning into a wicked grin.

  “So romantic,” I say with a teasing smile and he smirks at me.

  I take a deep breath. I need to keep my cool.

  But I f
orget all that. Because that's when he looks into my eyes with his intense eyes.

  “I’m not like other women. You know that now,” I tell him with a gentle purr, feeling a wetness taking over my pussy and drenching the fabric of my thong. Right now, I have no idea how I’ve managed to resist the urge to spread my legs for him and have his cock inside of me.

  “No, you’re better than all other women,” he replies quickly, leaning back against his chair and keeping his eyes focused on mine. “Everything about you is so much better, Athena…” he trails off then, lowering his voice as his eyes fall down toward my cleavage. “And I mean everything.”

  “You sound like a true romantic right now,” I say, laughing coyly, but my voice is as heavy as the world. God, I want his body pressed against mine so fucking bad. I just want to jump on the table, crawl toward him and kiss those delicious lips of his… And more than his lips, I want—no, I need—to feel his huge cock.

  “I’m a romantic at heart,” he continues, “Didn’t you know that?”

  “Does that mean you’ll propose before you try and get inside my panties tonight?” I whisper, suddenly feeling the warmness under my skin turning into a scorching white heat.

  “Well, I’m not that big of a romantic. It’s mostly a part-time thing,” he grins, and in his eyes I can read it all: he’s dying to fuck me.

  And, God, I’m dying for him to fuck me.

  I look down at my plate, watching the tomato sauce dripping over the spaghetti he cooked, and I suddenly realize that I’m not even hungry anymore. It seems that whenever I’m around Malcolm, eating is almost impossible. Remember what happened at Masa? Yeah.

  “We can always reheat those,” he tells me, as if he can read my mind right now.

  “That’s the best thing I’ve heard you say today,” I whisper, running my tongue between my lips.