The Forbidden Billionaire

by Lexi Aurora

  “I’ll have it right up,” I said, holding his eye. There was a look of interest on his face, one that was inviting and warm. I noticed that he glanced down at my lips when I smiled at him. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a credit card, handing it to me. I looked at him while I swiped it, then handed it back. He took a seat at an empty table, and I felt his eyes on me as I worked, pouring coffee into a mug for him and setting his cinnamon roll on a plate. I took a moment to collect myself before I carried it over to him, meeting his eye as I set it on the table in front of him.

  “Sit with me,” he said softly, taking my hand before I could pull away. His skin was soft and warm on mine, and the touch sent a shiver down my back that had nothing to do with the chill outside. I glanced around the room—there were other customers there, too many for me to take a break. I shook my head.

  “I can’t,” I said, gently pulling away from him, though I couldn’t help but return his smile. He gazed at me for a moment before I walked away and back behind the counter, disappearing into the kitchen so that I could tame my heartbeat before I saw him again.

  Chapter 2: Reid

  I sat at the table, sipping the coffee Sloane had brought me and keeping my eye out at the counter for her to come back. I had noticed how she’d looked at me when she’d first seen me, the same way I had been undoubtedly looking at her—with plain interest and attraction, as well as a little shyness on her part. I was never shy—it wasn’t in my nature—but the pink flush on her cheeks when she got flustered speaking to me lit up her face, making her look even more beautiful than she already was. Sloane was gorgeous and petite, probably almost a foot shorter than me, with dark hair that curled around her shoulders, and soft, pale brown eyes. I had trouble looking away from her as I was speaking to her, and I could tell that she was having the same problem.

  I watched her emerge from the back, her eyes not meeting mine as she came back into the store. She was looking decidedly away from me, though at times I would catch her looking, just briefly catch her eye, and smile at her before she looked away. It made me wonder if she was shy in other ways, in other places, if she’d have that same look on her face while I undressed her. She seemed like it would take some convincing to get her into my hands, but I had decided the moment I’d seen her that I had to try.

  When I was finished with my cinnamon roll and coffee, I brought the dishes back up to the counter and put them down. Sloane looked up at me, and I smiled at her, making her blush again. I loved that I was making her so nervous by just looking at her and wondered if I was affecting her in other ways.

  “Sloane,” I said. She parted her lips to speak to me, and I couldn’t help but to glimpse at them, noting how full they were, how soft and pink and pretty. “I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.”

  “Now you have,” she said, smiling at me. “Did you like it?”

  “I’ve enjoyed myself very much,” I said, holding her view. There was something bewitching about her gaze, how it was sweet but bold at the same time. I could tell there was a fire behind that shy expression, and I badly wanted to see it, to get to know the private side of her. I wondered how she would look opened up to me completely, and see who she really was outside of the bakery.

  “Good,” she said, dragging her teeth across her bottom lip. It was then that someone came into the bakery behind me, and Sloane glanced over my shoulder.

  “Thank you again,” I said, winking at her when she caught my gaze. She blushed again and I grinned as I turned around and made my way out of the bakery. I walked down the block a bit and got into my car, only then remembering that I’d forgotten to drop my business card off with Sloane for her to give to Henry Wright, the owner of the bakery. I had been so distracted by the girl that I had completely forgotten why I’d gone to the bakery in the first place. I sighed, shaking my head and laughing at myself—I wasn’t usually so unfocused around women, but there had been something about Sloane that had gotten under my skin the moment I’d looked into those gorgeous brown eyes.

  I started my car and pulled away from the curb, driving through town and looking around as I did so. I loved looking at the old buildings and envisioning what could be. Real estate development wasn’t just my job; it was my creative passion. My latest project was the biggest yet, and sometimes I feared I had taken on more than I could handle. But every time I doubted myself, I’d remember the twenty-three investors I’d brought in on the deal and told myself that losing their money was not an option. I had been in real estate since I’d graduated from college and had started from nowhere, managing to build my small company into a multibillion-dollar international success. I hadn’t gotten there without a few bumps in the road, but if I’d learned anything from my father, it was that I could fight through anything and win. I had to. My father had never accepted anything less.

  I got back to the office a few hours later, ignoring my messages and instead leaning back in my chair. Sloane was on my mind still, something that surprised me. Pretty women were a dime a dozen, a renewable resource that I could get my hands on whenever I wanted. Still, even as I thought through the list of women I could call to keep me company tonight, the only person in my head right now was the shy girl behind the register I’d met at the bakery earlier. I decided that I would go in the next day and bring her my card—it would give me an excuse to see her again, perhaps ask her out. Though I knew it probably wasn’t a good idea to get involved with someone in the middle of a big deal, I found I couldn’t get the idea of taking Sloane out, kissing her, or taking her clothes off, out of my mind.

  I tried to distract myself by going through the paperwork from the other sales in the neighborhood, noting there were only three more buildings to sign contracts on, including the bakery. That deal was different, though, because of the complications that my lawyer had come across. A few more steps I’d have to take, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I had closed on most of the deals myself—though other men of my position in the company would gladly hand over those meetings to other employees, I had always been hands-on with my business and always would be. I liked the thrill of the negotiation, the feeling of taking over a place piece by piece until the land was mine to do with as I pleased. It was like playing a game, developing something new in a place that hadn’t been revitalized in too long. The phone rang and I picked it up off my desk.

  “How’d it go, Reid?” It was Allan Dane, my lead investor. He was anxious to get the project started. “Did you get it done?”

  “The Ruske property is complicated, Allan. I’m trying to find a way to do it simply—that takes time.”

  “Bullshit. It’s not complicated, but you are insisting on making it complicated. A contract is a contract, and if people don’t keep up their end, there’s a price to pay. That’s business.”

  “Business indeed, but these are people’s lives here. I just need two more days and it will all be taken care of.”

  “Fine. I’ll give you one day, and then I’m taking it into my own hands. Me and the other investors are losing money every day you pussyfoot around the issue here.”

  “I’ll get it done,” I said before I realized he had already hung up. Allan was an old friend of mine but a shrewd businessman. I knew he was serious and so I’d have to get my part done by tomorrow.

  I went home early that day, deciding to spend the night alone instead of calling a friend or a girl to come over and keep me company. My head was spinning with the numbers, thinking about the project, Sloane, the bakery. I spent the night reading but couldn’t really focus on my book. I was too distracted, so I got dressed at around midnight and went for a run around my neighborhood, allowing the chilly air to clear my thoughts and prepare me for the next few days of getting through the contracts.

  Keep reading Bought Out By The Billionaire – it is available online, check Lexi Aurora’s author page for its availability.

  PREVIEW: Bound by the Billionaire by Lexi Aurora

  Bound by the Billionaire
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  I wanted her the moment I saw her. I never thought she would get caught up in one of my games. I’ve never been with someone who was both soft and willing and yet somehow so hard to get. But my world is changed now. If only I knew how to change hers for the better.

  Kim Davidson:

  I have responsibilities to take care of. I have a son.

  I can’t keep letting him take me like this.

  In the storage room at work.

  True, he owns the building, and many more like it.

  But I’m not ready to fall in love again no matter how he makes me feel, and especially someone as unstable and eccentric as him.

  If only my body would let me forget the first time I tasted him and felt those hands.

  The way he bound me as part of one of his bored rich boy games.

  Warning: “Bound by the Billionaire” contains adult language and situations. It is intended for mature readers. There is no cheating and a HEA is guaranteed.

  Chapter 1

  Kim Davidson tried to pull together some energy. Her shift at Elixir had been crazy busy. From the minute she’d arrived, she was running. Her boss’s mother-in-law was turning seventy and the party of twenty was demanding and, worse still, bad tippers. That would mean less money this week, and already her mother was complaining when she’d left in the morning.

  “You know Derek really needs some new shoes. His feet are cramped in these,” she said while getting Kim’s son ready for school.

  “I know, Ma, I’m trying. I start the new cleaning job at the gallery tonight that’ll help. Things will be better. Promise.”

  Her mother kissed her on the cheek. “Kimmy, honey, I know you try so hard. Your ex-husband should be paying for some of this, you know. Useless man!”

  “Please, Ma, I don’t want Bruce involved in my life, or in Derek’s life. We’ll be fine.” She bent down to her son. “Won’t we, D?”

  “Yes, Mama,” the little boy said.

  Kim kissed him. “You be a good boy at school. I’ll try to get home before you fall asleep.”

  Her mother didn’t understand. Yes, she’d like money from her ex-husband—that would make everything easier—but the price she’d have to pay would be too much. He wouldn’t just give them money and leave them alone; she knew him too well. If he gave them money, he’d expect to be involved in their life, and she would not have that. Never again. She was fine without a man, better than she’d ever been. She was in control of things. This was all just a tiny blip; she’d soon be back on track. Just a bad patch to get through. Once she got going with this regular job cleaning at the gallery and then with the two waitressing jobs, she ought to be able to save some money and get them all sorted out. It’d been tough for her mother too ever since her father died—one of the reasons Kim lived with her. But Kim was going to get them all out of trouble. They’d be fine; they just needed to give her a bit of time. There was no need to get her ex involved in things. Kim was done with men anyway. She’d learned her lesson; life never was a fairy tale. No prince on a white horse was going to save her. She would need to do it for herself.

  She arrived at the front of Rive Gauche Gallery and tried to forget the five hours of running around waiting on demanding old women and men with grabby hands. A new job needed new energy. She took a deep breath and opened the door. She entered the glass-fronted building and found a security guard at the reception desk.

  “Are you here for the opening?” he asked.

  “Opening?”

  “The opening of the Clara Dancy exhibit?”

  “No, I’m part of the cleaning crew. My first night.”

  “Oh?” The middle-aged man’s voice went up as if somehow his prospects had just improved. “So you’ll be working nights? With me?”

  Kim looked him over. Obviously Italian. Obviously middle-aged. And obviously married. What was it with men? Why did they think every woman was interested in being hit on?

  She ignored his question. “Where’s Sonya Lando?”

  Sonya was Kim’s friend from high school. While Kim had gone off to her disastrous marriage with Bruce, Sonya got straight to work. Though she only had a high school diploma, she’d done well for herself. She was already a manager at Rive Gauche and had helped Kim get this new cleaning job.

  “She’s at the party in gallery one, down that hall.” The security guard pointed to the left, and Kim set off in that direction.

  “I didn’t get your name,” he called after her.

  “Because I didn’t give it to you,” Kim said, walking away.

  Kim knew which room it was because she heard the music and talking from quite some distance. At the entrance, she saw that she was underdressed in her jeans and blouse, so was reluctant to get inside of the room. Most of the men were in suits and many of the women in long evening gowns. Kim’s gaze was drawn to the paintings on the walls, big bold colors in purples, dark blues, splashes of red. And everywhere on the wall, figures of women, their beautiful bodies draped across beds, entangled in the arms of their lovers, gently holding their children. The paintings were so gorgeous Kim was swept away and didn’t notice when Sonya came up to her.

  “I remember in high school you were a beautiful painter,” Sonya said.

  “It feels like a million years ago.” Kim smiled at her friend, who looked sophisticated in a long black sheath with a massive silver necklace and strappy silver sandals to match.

  The memory of how she used to love painting made Kim sad. She was suddenly being reminded of her life before Bruce. Her life when it had so many possibilities, when she was going to be a painter— the time when every day brought a new dream. The time before he crushed her aspirations with his constant talk: telling her she was nothing, telling her she could never do anything with her life. And now here she was, a single mother waiting tables and working as a janitor. Maybe he had been right about her. In any case, those dreams of becoming a famous painter seemed destined to never be fulfilled.

  She shook her head, attempting to shake those horrible memories back to where she kept them locked-up. She’d learned how to ignore the things that brought her down. Those were Bruce’s words anyway, not hers, just words with no meaning. She knew one day she’d be back on track and all of her still-to-be-discovered dreams would come true; they had to, not only for her, but for her son Derek too.

  “I’m here and ready to work,” Kim said. “That’s some security guard you got there, already trying to make his moves on me.”

  “Who? Frank?” Sonya laughed. “Ignore him. It’s just his way; he’s a nice enough guy.”

  “So where do I start?” Kim asked.

  “Wow, you’re an eager beaver! Chill. You can’t do much until the opening is over anyway. Do you want to vacuum around these people?” She laughed at her own joke. Kim smiled. What she really wanted was to finish as quickly as possible, get home, kiss her likely already sleeping son, and climb into her own bed. She didn’t say that to Sonya though.

  “Let’s go and get some champagne,” Sonya said, taking Kim’s arm to lead her inside.

  Kim stopped. “I don’t know. Maybe I can wait out with Frank until the party’s over.”

  “Don’t be silly! Why do you want to pass up free champagne? That’s not the Kim Davidson I used to know.”

  Kim knew she wasn’t the Kim Sonya used to know. But that was not the problem. “I don’t think I’m dressed appropriately.”

  Sonya looked her up and down. “Artists don’t care about such things. You should see what the woman who painted these paintings is wearing. I think it’s her smock she wears in her studio.”

  Kim still hesitated. Sonya pushed her around the corner. She took her necklace off and put it around Kim’s neck, pulling the collar of her white blouse up for effect. She took a bright red lipstick from her silver handbag and quickly swiped it across Kim’s full lips, then dabbed it with a tissue from her bag. Then she pulled the hair tie out of Kim’s long blonde hair and fluffed it up it so it fell around her
shoulders in long golden waves.

  “Jesus!” Sonya said, standing back and looking at Kim. “You’re more beautiful than you were in high school, and in high school I was so jealous of you I could have bit your nose off if I got the chance.”

  They both laughed at that. Kim caught a reflection of herself in the shiny plating on the corner of the wall, and she was shocked. Was that her? She worked all of the time, and when she wasn’t working she was trying to spend time with Derek or sleeping. Taking care of herself had fallen off the radar. There was just no time for that anymore. Who was that woman? Kim thought when she looked at herself. Where had she gone?

  “I’m simply dying of thirst! I might collapse right here if I don’t get some champagne. Can we go into the party now? Please!” Sonya begged Kim.

  Kim laughed. “Always the drama queen, hey, Sonya? Okay, let’s go!”

  Chapter 2

  Robert looked out at the calm surface of Lake Michigan and wished he was somewhere else—anywhere else. Anyone looking at the scene would have thought he was crazy. A beautiful summer day, out on his own yacht, beautiful women at his beck and call, champagne, waiters to serve them—how could anything be wrong? It was everyone’s dream. Robert wondered what was wrong with him. He had everything, but he felt so empty, as if he had nothing.

  He had arrived at twenty-six, a billionaire with companies and properties all over the world. His legacy was well-established; he had nothing to prove anymore. Why was that not enough? Why did he feel so restless and unfulfilled? Why did this life he lived seem so pointless?