Her Guardian Billionaire (Forbidden First Time Romance)

by Chastain, Belle

  But Anna forced her way into his mind and body before he’d known what had happened. Had she been there all along and he’d never known? He wasn’t sure. And in the moment, he didn’t care. She was his and he was going to show her the world. As if she’d heard his private thoughts, she sighed and turned her head, pressing her cheek into his chest and smiling.

  Yes. It felt right to be with her, to be her lover instead of her guardian. To see her as a woman and not an obligation. In the morning, he’d sign the papers and terminate the guardianship per the agreement.

  And then he’d ask her out on a date like a real man, not some coward hiding behind a mask. Fuck the paparazzi. With her wrapped up in his arms, he wanted to destroy his carefully constructed life and live. For her, he wanted more.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SUNLIGHT FILTERED THROUGH the plantation shutters and fell across James’s face. He’d been awake for a while, watching Anna sleep and thinking of the future. On any other day, he’d have been up checking his investments and tending to the business. But none of it mattered right then.

  Not when a gorgeous woman sprawled across his bed with delicious tan skin begging to be kissed. Malcolm hadn’t even delivered breakfast, but he’d probably put two and two together and left them alone. So considerate.

  With a smile, James bent to kiss Anna on the shoulder. If Malcolm wasn’t willing to intrude, he’d rustle up breakfast for them both as soon as he fetched her something to wear. Slipping out of bed, he pulled on a pair of lounge pants and padded out of the room.

  He felt lighter, freer than he had in years as he strode out of his wing and down the hall to Anna’s room. Busting in with a grin on his face, he scanned the room and paused. The whole place had been packed up and a collection of luggage sat by the far wall. Right. She was leaving.

  He hated to root through her things just to find her something wear. But maybe he’d get lucky and not have to dig. Kneeling at the nearest suitcase, he unzipped it and flipped the lid. A folder sat on top and he set it aside, shoving past sweaters, jeans, a robe. Perfect!

  He scooped up the robe, shoved all the clothes back into place, and grabbed the folder. And sent all the papers inside spilling onto the floor. Damn it! Setting the robe down, he bent to pick them up, stacking them into neat piles when one caught his eye. What the…? He swore it had his name on it. With a frown, he set the rest of the stack down and began to read.

  Dear Ms. Sinclair,

  We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the social psychology Ph.D. Program at New York University. Your thesis proposal—an examination of the effects of tragedy on both private and public figures—is unique and a perfect complement to our current faculty. The insight you will provide on a persona like James Davenport is incomparable will only assist you in completing your thesis in record time.

  Congratulations on your acceptance, we look forward to working with you. Sincerely,

  The Faculty

  James set the paper on the floor and took a measured breath. Had she really sold him out? Used his name and notoriety to snag a graduate school acceptance? He dragged his hand down his face and picked up the paper again, scanning for any other explanation. But he came up empty.

  If she’d promised insight into his life—a chance to slip behind the image he’d painstakingly built and air his secrets…He stood up and looked around the room, unable to focus as he pinched the bridge of his nose. She used me. She took my life and handed it to a bunch of academics to dissect and examine. Closing his eyes, he thought about the day before. How she’d come from the brush of his riding crop against her clit. How she’d run her fingers through his hair as he pleasured her. How he’d fallen for her in a matter of hours.

  And none of it was real. Flashbacks to a night more than twenty years ago flooded his mind. A girl, naked and tied to a bench, ass up in the air as a teenage James fucked her. Her moans and cries of pleasure echoing through the room right before his world crashed down.

  He shook his head and forced the memories back into the dark. She’s just like Bianca. She fucking used me to get into graduate school. God, how could I be so blind?

  There was only one thing to do. Pulling himself together, he pushed his hair off his face and stalked down the hall, anger building with every step. He passed Malcolm with a tray full of coffee and pastries and never broke his stride.

  “Your breakfast, sir,” Malcolm called out.

  “I won’t be eating. Call the chauffeur, Malcolm. Miss Sinclair is leaving. Now.” He kept walking, striking the floor with purpose as Malcolm struggled to catch up with him.

  “But it’s Sunday, sir. The chauffeur is off today.”

  “Then ready a car, I don’t care which one. She can keep it. But I want her out of here. Immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Slamming his palm out, the door to his wing flew back and crashed into the wall, shaking the entire hallway. He tossed open his bedroom door the same way as Anna sat up on the bed. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and smiled as he forced himself to calm. I was such a fool.

  In a voice that betrayed none of the rage simmering beneath, he addressed her. “Get out. Now.”

  “What? James, what’s happened? What’s going on?” She pulled the covers up to cover her naked body, and he laughed, mirthless and hollow. Stalking up to the bed, he ripped the sheets away from her, leaving her exposed.

  “You don’t deserve to hide from me.”

  “James!” Anna clawed at the bed, her breasts bouncing in the cool air as she tugged at the sheets and attempted to hide her bare skin. “You’re scaring me!”

  “And you’re using me. Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That you’d weasel your way into my bed, find out all my secrets, and then what? Use them to write your thesis? Make yourself famous?”

  “What are you talking about? I don’t understand!” She scrambled off the bed, backing away from him until her ass hit the wardrobe full of bondage gear. As she covered her breasts with her arms, her eyes widened in confused panic.

  He crossed his arms and jutted out his chin. “You used me. Just like Bianca. Did Malcolm tell you about her?”

  “No! He wouldn’t!”

  “Oh, so, you tried to get it out of him? How charming. And to think, I almost thought I loved you.”

  Anna paled, but stepped forward, reaching out into the empty air as her eyes filled with tears. “Tell me what’s going on. Please. There has to be a misunderstanding.”

  “There’s no misunderstanding. I read the acceptance letter from NYU. The one where they lay it all out—how you’ll give them insight into the James Davenport and get yourself a shiny Ph.D., too.”

  “It’s not like that. James, please, just let me explain.”

  “Save it Anna, I don’t want your excuses.”

  She closed her eyes and dropped her arms, revealing her naked body in all its glory. A pang of arousal rushed through him and he cursed his body’s reaction. He’d never touch her again.

  Opening her eyes, she stepped toward him. “James, I applied to the program almost a year ago, back when you never gave me the time of day. Hell, I don’t think we’d even had a conversation in months. What I told you before was the truth. I want to study tragic events—how terrible things shape people, transform them. I sure as hell know my life changed. It has nothing to do with you.”

  “They mentioned me by name, Anna.”

  Throwing up her hands, she shook her head in shock. “Of course they did. Everyone knows I’m the orphan you rescued. The one you vaulted from the depths of despair to luxury and riches. I’m a fucking cinderella story, remember?”

  She stepped closer, and he could see the shimmer of tears swimming in her eyes. “But I’m not cinderella and up until yesterday, you weren’t fucking close to a prince charming. It didn’t matter how much I crushed on you. Or how sexy, assertive, or compelling I thought you were. I was just a box you checked—orphan, one. Not a person, not a part of your life.
Not a woman standing in front of you telling you she loves you.”

  James closed his eyes and backed up. She wasn’t going to worm her way back into his heart. Not with her empty proclamations of love. He opened his eyes and ground his teeth together as he looked at her. “Good. Because I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself.”

  A tear spilled onto her cheek, and he could see the hurt blossom in her chest like a gunshot wound. She gasped and ran past him, not caring about her naked body, him or anything. He’d finally broken her—but instead of her body, bound and blissed out beneath him, he’d crushed her heart. And she’d deserved it.

  Anna ran, blinded by tears and anger into her room. She knew he could be heartless. But she never knew he could be so cruel.

  If he’d only listened, he’d have understood. She would never use him—not in the way he was thinking. Sure, she explained about him and her past in the application. But if she hadn’t, what would they have thought?

  Everyone knew who she was. The whole city watched when he took her in, expecting a little orphan Annie in the flesh. If she’d ignored him in her application, she’d have looked like an idiot. Going on and on about her mom, how her death at the hands of a Daven security guard changed her life, but never once mentioning him? Impossible.

  If he knew her need to understand grief and heartache, how she wanted to help people and not exploit him, he couldn’t hate her.

  Oh, James! She fell in front of a suitcase and tugged it open. Why did she have to fall for James? The sexy, handsome, unavailable man she’d lusted after for years. The man she’d watched from behind her sunglasses, longing for him to see her as a woman and not just an obligation.

  Damn him! For the second time in her life, he’d turned her world upside down in a single day and this time she’d fallen. Hard. She wiped the tears and snot from her face and pulled out some clothes. If he wanted her to leave, she’d leave. And she’d never come back. Fuck him and his problems.

  Tugging on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, she looked around the room. The room she’d come home to every summer for the past eight years. The room she’d never see again. Goodbye fantasy land, hello reality. Grabbing her purse, she dug for her phone when her hand brushed black velvet. The diamond.

  Pulling the box out of her purse, she opened it up and shook her head. It still glittered and sparkled like the expensive bauble it was, but all she saw was empty glass. He thought she was a liar? Someone hell-bent on ruining his life? Fine. She’d ruin something all right.

  Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she walked out of her room and down the hall to the front entry—a grand marble affair with curving staircases and an oversized mirror on the wall. Walking up to the mirror, she took stock. Hair a mess, eyes bloodshot and puffy—a disaster. Only fair that he had a mess to clean up, too.

  “This is for you, Mr. Davenport. You deserve it.” She pulled back and with all the force she could muster, hurled the diamond straight at the mirror. It hit with a sickening crunch and the mirror shattered—shards of glass spraying in all directions—destroying the image of a wounded girl surrounded by riches.

  Turning around, she headed for the front door when a voice called out. “Miss Anna? Please wait.”

  Anna spun on her heel and Malcolm rushed up to her. “I’m so sorry, Anna. I’ll talk to him. He’ll come around.”

  She smiled and patted Malcolm on the arm. “No he won’t, Malcolm.”

  “Give him some time. In the meantime, I’ll arrange for your things to be shipped to your apartment. They’ll be there in the morning.”

  “Thank you. I’m going outside to call a cab.”

  “No. Go to the garage, pick a car. It’s yours.”

  “What?”

  “James’s request.”

  She looked down and blinked. “I don’t want anything from him.”

  “Then don’t think of it as from him. Think of it as from me. A going away present. He did say to pick any car he had.”

  Anna raised an eyebrow. “Any car?”

  “Yes, miss. Any car.”

  She shook her head and reached out, wrapping Malcolm in a huge hug. He squeaked and hugged her back. “Thank you, Malcolm. Take care of him, will you?”

  “I always do, miss.”

  Anna stepped back, and Malcolm backed away with a nod.

  With a deep breath, she turned, standing tall as she walked out the front door and out of James’s life. A sob bubbled up from her chest, and she bit her knuckle to keep from crying out.

  If she’d only left when she was supposed to. Driven away before Malcolm had given her the invitation. Then she’d be miles away, living her own life without a hole inside her that she’d never be able to fill. Damn James and his fear.

  She ran to the garage, blinking back a fresh wave of tears, and stared at all the cars. Pushing her hair off her face, she tried to get it together.

  But all she could see was the future with James. The man she’d fantasized about for years and finally got. The man she’d foolishly given her heart. His hands as he stroked her bare flesh, his lips as he kissed her, his tongue making her come. She’d wanted to give him everything—her virginity, her love, all of her—and he’d thrown her out without giving her a chance.

  All she wanted was to hurt him back. To twist a knife in his gut the way he’d done to her. Her gaze flitted over the hoods—Mercedes, Porsche, Range Rover, Aston Martin. The Aston Martin.

  Smiling through her tears, she grabbed the keys from the wall and beeped the coupe open. Slipping into the leather seat, she rested her head on the steering wheel and took a breath. James babied the coupe. Only driving it when the weather was clear. A Sunday drive to air it out and keep it running. Sitting up, she stuck the key in the ignition and took a deep breath. Lucky me, it’s Sunday.

  Starting the car, she backed it out of the garage in a rush, squealing the tires and revving the engine. If the car was her parting gift, she was sure as hell going to use it. Punching the gas, she flew down the drive, through the gate and onto the narrow road. A few miles of curves and she’d be on the highway and away from the Davenport residence forever.

  She might as well see how fast the car could go.

  CHAPTER SIX

  PRESSING HIS HEAD into the bedpost, he closed his eyes and breathed in and out. The last two days meant nothing. She was gone and everything would resume as if she’d never disrupted his life at all.

  “She’s gone, sir.”

  Spinning on his heel, he ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Thank you, Malcolm.”

  “Can I get you anything, sir?”

  Amnesia would be nice. “No, thank you, Malcolm.”

  The butler nodded but stayed still, refusing to leave.

  “Is there something else?”

  “It’s not my place sir but…are you sure you did the right thing?”

  James snorted and stared past his butler to the open doorway, remembering her naked body as she tore down the hall. “What thing are we referring to Malcolm? Kicking Anna out? Falling for a charlatan? Please, enlighten me.”

  “She’s not a charlatan, sir.”

  “And how would you know anything about it?”

  “I’ve been her only friend for eight years.”

  James didn’t miss the regret laced through the butler’s words. “Did you tell her about Bianca?”

  “No. I did not.”

  “Well, someone must have. And she used it—it’s the past all over again—I let a woman into my life and look what happens. She betrays me.”

  “Are you sure about that, sir?”

  “Of course I’m sure! I read her acceptance letter for god sakes. They splash my name all over it.”

  “But do you know what she wrote them? What they based that acceptance on?”

  James frowned and focused on the floor. Did he? He’d read the letter. But she’d looked at him with such hurt and sadness. No, she couldn’t have been telling the truth. “It was right there in black and white.�
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  “Perhaps, if I might be so bold sir, you’d like to read her application.” Malcolm held out a handful of papers and James reached out to take it. Flipping past the biographical statistics, test scores, and the like, he sat on the edge of his bed and began to read. She’d detailed her ambitions, her goal to research grief and tragedy, just like she’d said before. He skimmed, searching for the proof of her cunning. When he glimpsed his name, he slowed.

  Mr. Davenport plucked me out of nothing and changed my world. Everyone remembers the story—a ready-made Christmas miracle to fill the nightly news. Girl, orphaned from an accidental discharge of a security guard’s gun. Taken in by the owner of the company—a billionaire no less—and given everything she’d never dreamed of.

  If he’d ignored me—thrown some typical apology into the press and had a Merry Christmas—I’d have been dumped into the system. A thirteen-year-old with nothing to call her own. What would have happened next? Probably the usual—depression, drugs, worse. I know because that’s all I wanted—to hurt myself physically, the way I hurt inside. I had no life, no family, no worth.

  But that didn’t happen. He saved me. I’ll never forget my mother’s funeral. His strong arm wrapped around my shoulder, the words of comfort. He’d suffered as a child too. But he’d succeeded, become his own man, built an empire. He might be flawed and distant, but he’d survived. If he’d had someone to care for him, maybe he’d be different today. I know I’d be different without him.

  It’s this type of past—those like Mr. Davenport’s and my own—that I seek to study. If I am accepted into the program, my goal is to work with trauma survivors to understand the effects of tragedy, the mechanisms of grief and how we can help children and young adults cope before they are thrust into the world on their own.