Breaking Point: A Steamy Billionaire Romance

by BAKER, J. B.

  I can see that she has taken special care not to look too sexy for this meeting. It flatters me, even though I know that is the last thing she wants to accomplish. Under my scrutiny, Rachel nervously runs her hand through her blonde hair. I study her glowing porcelain-coloured skin that is completely flawless. I nod appreciatively; deciding that her heart-shaped face is her most striking attribute.

  Chapter 6

  RACHEL

  I feel like a specimen of prize livestock being examined by an expert appraiser. It is evident by the way Sean watches me that he is a connoisseur of women’s flesh. The notion sickens me, but at the same time, it makes me feel strange. It’s an emotion I haven’t known since school when another girl got better grades in an exam. Am I jealous of the fact that he has had other women? But that is ridiculous. The man’s a notorious rake.

  I can’t deal with the guy much longer and remain calm. His feigned ignorance is so irritating. But is it possible that he didn’t know what he was doing back then? I quickly discount the notion. Everything Sean did was planned.

  “You’re the one buying up my biggest client.” I explain, letting the air hiss passed my lips. At last, the cat was out of the bag.

  Sean grins lopsidedly. “Yeah, I’ve bought your biggest client. What of it? It’s not like it’s going to change all that much for you.”

  I swallow. “Mm, well, ah.”

  “Is that all you got to say?” He throws his head back and hoots his mirth.

  I can’t help but add a small giggle. He’s so full of life. He’s just the same as he always was – always shooting from the hips and asking questions later. I notice him studying me. His smaragdine eyes boring into me, making the heat rise up to my face for the hundredth time since stepping into his office. I feel as if he is undressing me with those eyes that act like scanners. For a split second, I feel like I am sitting naked on the chair opposite him. I feel self-conscious, forcing my slightly spread legs shut. It feels like he can see through the fabric of my pants and panties.

  Oh my God, the guy still exercises sexual harassment to the full. He’s even worse than he was back then. God help me. If I am gonna get out of here with my virtue still intact, it’ll be a miracle. However, I can’t help but think that the entire charade has been put on for my benefit. Nothing is too weird for Sean Courtney. He’d do just about anything to gain a tactical advantage.

  PING

  He pulls his phone out of his trouser pocket and starts to read the message. I can’t help but notice him smiling. It makes me think that only someone special can have such an effect on a person.

  In the silence, I have time to study his office more closely. I have seen many a CEO’s office in my time, but this one is seriously huge. Close to the floor-to-ceiling windows stands Sean’s huge contemporary glass desk. It is as large as a dining table and sparkles like the skyscrapers outside. It matches the coffee table by the couch. Everything else is white and anthracite – ceiling, floors, and walls. The only hint of old-style opulence is a humungous painting by the artist, Peter Paul Rubens. The canvas depicts a gathering of cupids, or something or other, with a group of corpulent women that are portrayed in the artist’s typical style. It is magnificent and offers a delightful contrast to all the modernity.

  “Nice, huh?” asks Sean, catapulting me out of my fascination with the intricately painted cupids and chubby Madonna’s frolicking about in a picturesque garden. Apart from the figures, the setting is full of abundant frondescence, colourful flowers and a pristine blue sky. All of which was meticulously brushed onto the canvas.

  “It’s superb, Sean,” I say breathily.

  “Yeah, took quite some effort to obtain. You know, with the French being all protective about letting their artwork go abroad.”

  I nod. I don’t know much about art, but I attempt to play along anyway. When Sean finishes regaling me with even more information on the painting, I can’t help myself from making a snide quip.

  “Aren’t those women a little, how should I say…corpulent for your taste?”

  Sean guffaws. “Size never mattered to me. I love women in all shapes and sizes. As long as they’re wet in the right spot.”

  I arch my eyebrows and gulp at the crudeness and chauvinistic nature of his comment. I actually believe him though. Sean probably has the most voracious libido on the planet – I guess he’d do it with just about any woman who is remotely attractive. Thinking about it makes me wet in the core. I don’t know why. It just does. Entering Sean’s office is like setting foot in a different world where only hedonistic vice reigns. I scowl, forcing his sexual proclivities from my mind.

  “Okay, Sean, enough of this. We have had our little catch-up and banter. It’s time to talk about why I’m here…”

  There’s a knock on the door. He snaps a command and, promptly, Stacey walks in with a tray of champagne and strawberries. She carefully sets it down on the glass table and moves to take the bottle.

  “That’s okay, Stace. I’ll take it from here.” Sean looks at his watch. “Oh, honey…”

  Stacey turns around. “Yes, boss?” The way she said it causes my eyes to roll. Also, the interruption pissed me off royally.

  “Be a darlin’ and bring Rache and me some lunch.” He turns to face me. “You eat everything?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Good. Stace, bring us two steak sandwiches with fries please.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” Stacey lingers a while longer, expecting another command.

  “You can go now, honey,” says Sean, beaming her a mega-watt smile consisting of two rows of perfectly aligned choppers.

  Stacey grins and leaves the office.

  I swear there’s a connection between those two. They fucked all right. My breath hitches in my throat. I can’t be – no way, I’m not jealous.

  “My name’s Rachel and not Rache,” I snap, venting off my steam inappropriately. The way he makes me feel confuses me. I both hate and somehow admire the man.

  “Whatever.” Pop! Sean opens the bottle.

  “I don’t drink…”

  “You don’t drink, you don’t fuck, next thing you’re going to tell me is that you don’t like strawberries and you hate kids.”

  Sean holds out the flute with the champagne in my direction. Reluctantly, I take it.

  “To us meeting again,” he says happily, clinking his glass with mine and taking a huge swig.

  I have to admit that the champagne tastes great. I can’t stop myself from following through with another sip.

  “Here, try one of these,” he says, holding out a strawberry.

  I lean forward to take one from the silver bowl on the table.

  “No, no, this one’s got your name written all over it.”

  With lightning speed, Sean gets up and moves around the table until he is right before me. Quicker than it takes a puppy dog to wag its tail, he forces the fruit into my mouth that was agape in shock at his familiarity. I automatically chew, my mouth half full of flesh and juice that threatens to permeate the sides of my mouth.

  “Mm, yes, so sweet,” I say, not knowing what else to say.

  “I know, right. They’re Californian. The very best.”

  He too takes one and pops it into his mouth and chews happily. He sits back down again.

  Jesus, the guy’s an intimidating pain in the ass. But somehow, I don’t feel as uncomfortable as I did when I stepped into the building and all of those years ago on his boat after he dumped me. Something is different. Sure, Sean is still an overbearingly shallow womanizer, but he effuses something else that I can’t quite place yet. It is something that had not been there four years ago.

  After both of us take another sip of the champagne and a strawberry each, I grab my bag, remove some papers and shuffle them around on the glass coffee table. Sean looks at me with a bemused expression on his face.

  “So, Sean, let’s get down to business. I have a proposal for you.”

  He arches his eyebrows. “Go on.
”

  I know he doesn’t like the fact that I changed tack. He wants to fool around a while longer. I will him with my eyes to stop me. To my surprise, he doesn’t. He lets me say my piece.

  “Your company recently bought Sunbeam Energy for a ton of money, making Courtney Holdings one of the largest energy conglomerates in the world.”

  Taking a sip of champagne, Sean nods. There is no emotion on his face – He is all business again. I cannot discern whether he feels pride or anything else. As usual, when Sean wants it, he is impossible to read. It is like when the haze descends over the fields in the morning, leaving a seemingly gossamer veil over the grass that is actually opaque. I realize that this man, no matter how playful, has become even more ruthless than ever.

  “As you already mentioned, when you bought Sunbeam, you also bought my biggest client…”

  “To cut to the chase, you have no other clients,” interrupts Sean. He then goes on to explain that Michonne and I have shed all of our other clients over the years in favour of this one big client, Sunbeam. “So, what you want to know is whether I still need your services after the take-over, even though my firm does all of our communications’ work in-house?” He drains his champagne. “That’s about it in a nutshell, right?”

  I nod. It always amazed me how quick Sean’s mind works and how unafraid he is to nail the nails in the coffin. “Yeah,” I gulp.

  Sean thinks it over for a moment. He takes a painstakingly long time refilling our flutes with champagne. After, he devotes all of his attention to a strawberry for God knows how long. Suddenly, he clears his throat. “Okay, this is what I propose. I will take on ten people from your firm…”

  “Thirty!” I cut in like a razor blade.

  He grins. I can see he loves negotiating. “Twelve.”

  “Twenty-eight.”

  He chuckles. “I’ll take twenty and not a person more, okay.” It is not an offer or a question. Sean has announced the end of the negotiation on that front and I know him well enough not to push my luck.

  I nod. “Twenty it is.”

  “Good. I will also have Michonne Mitchell and you.”

  “Do we continue to work as a stand-alone entity or…”

  “No, I will integrate your firm into my communications’ division,” he interrupts again. Sean is one of those people whose brain works a lot faster than most people’s. Sometimes, it operates even faster than his mouth.

  I don’t know whether to jump up and start shouting out my happiness or cry. Sean’s proposal is a two-edged sword and I am intelligent enough to know it. Sean proceeds to tell me about the rest of his offer.

  “I will, of course, buy you out. How does twenty-five million Dollars sound for your firm and a position at Courtney’s as chief communications officer?” He interlinks his fingers. It is not a nervous gesture, just a habit of his. “You’ll have a very competitive salary and benefits,” he adds. “But, you will be based out of London in this building.”

  I feel the heat rise up to my cheeks. Sean’s offer is beyond belief. As my elation plays tricks with me, I remember some words that Jeroen, the guy from my first real job in Amsterdam, once told me: when something sounds too good to be true, it usually is.

  “What do you want in return, Sean?”

  He chuckles. “Your expertise and…”

  “You can’t go in there, he’s…”

  Chapter 7

  SEAN

  “As you know, I am Sean Courtney’s daughter, and I’ll go in there whenever I like.”

  Ignoring receptionist Number three and four’s protests, my daughter, Portia, storms into my office.

  “Dad, we have a serious situation at the shelter. I need your advice.”

  I see Rachel arch her eyebrows. I don’t know whether she ever met my daughter while she still worked for me. I doubt it; she was far younger back then and never made it to my office all that often. That has changed considerably in the past few years. Ever since turning sixteen, Portia has become a force to be reckoned with. Her mother was a personality while she still lived, but my daughter is in an entirely different category. It is like comparing a category three and a category five storm.

  Portia exudes great confidence for someone so young. She is a spitting image of myself, only more feminine and blonde like her mother. She is tall and has a well-defined angel face with lines that are perfectly formed. Like mine, her eyes are emerald green. It always makes me smile when they sparkle at me like they are doing now. She wants something and it is going to take all of my power to stand up to her. To me, Portia is the prettiest thing in the world.

  “Sweetie, I’m in a meeting.” I indicate with my head to Rachel.

  “I can see that, dad.”

  Portia looks at Rachel and smiles. She walks up to her and holds out her hand. “Hi, I’m Portia Courtney…his daughter. The almighty.”

  I see Rachel smile at my daughter’s quip. I can see she agrees with her.

  “Pleased to meet you, Portia. Call me Rachel.”

  Portia nods. “I will. It’s good to meet you, Rachel.” She looks at her some more. “You are very beautiful.”

  Rachel’s cheeks redden slightly. The sight makes me smile.

  “Thank you. That’s so nice of you to say so.”

  “Daddy likes beautiful women. I suppose most men do. It’s the same at school. All of the pretty girls get the attention of the boys.” The expression on Portia’s face softens. “You should have dinner with my father and get to know him better. It would be nice to have a woman’s help, you know.”

  Rachel nods meekly. I can see that she is in a state of total shock. I glower at my daughter fiercely. What the hell does she think she is doing? She takes no notice as she turns back to me. “Jamie, Jack and Susan are poorly. They need medical attention asap. It’s the flu season starting up all over again,” she says as if the entire episode concerning Rachel and I is something that is months in the past.

  “Sweetie, why are you not at school?”

  Portia’s voice promptly adopts a softer tone.

  “I was, but Carrie at the home sent me a text telling me what happened. I went right over. Dad, you’re the only guy I know who can do anything about this. I Promise I’ll do all of my homework by the time you get back tonight.”

  “Darling, of course I’ll help. What is it that I can do?”

  I listen to my daughter as she gives me a brief outline of the situation. I nod approvingly. I have taught her well. My base tenet in business is, if you’re not able to state your case in a few sentences, go fuck yourself.

  Portia flashes Rachel a triumphal grin when I pick up the phone and start barking orders. When I am done, I tell my girl to wait outside and that I’d join her soon. In the meantime, a team of people would take care of the situation. Portia runs up to me and gives me a hug. It takes a lot of reluctant persuading on my part to free myself from my daughter and get her out of the office. Usually, I would bask in any affection she shows me for as long as I can because it has become less since her last birthday.

  It’s like the step into adolescence robs your child of every shred of love they harbour for you. When you want some, it’s like squeezing blood out of a stone.

  Portia is the reason I do everything I do. The day my wife died in a car accident thirteen years ago, I promised myself that I would never let anything come between us. I’ve never had a meaningful relationship with a woman since. They were empty vessels that served only one purpose - sex. That was until I met Rachel. The damn woman so confused me. I had treated her like other women, but in doing so, I punished myself.

  For years, I tried to keep her out of my mind and banish the memory of our togetherness forever. At first, it worked. Yet, after the anger of her having sued me died away, the old familiar glow returned. Not a night went by that I didn’t have visions of her face, that perfect face, seraphic and softly sculptured with seamless, fluid lines. Eyes the colour of the sea under a blue sky. The full natural arch of her eyebrows
above them gives her a natural freshness, unlike anything I have ever seen in a woman.

  There is vulnerability about her that I can’t quite describe. Yes, it was the way she had looked laying in my arms after we had made love two years ago – so loving, at ease and happy. I see it again today. She hides it well under a veneer of professionalism and forceful words, but she is still that woman. I nod as the idea I had planned for nearly two years settles in my brain. Portia supports my decision. She did from the day I suggested it. It’s only up to Rachel to play ball.

  “You have quite a daughter there, Sean,” says Rachel as I return from the door.

  “Yeah, I know.” I am a little embarrassed. Yet, my pride usurps that sentiment promptly.

  “What’s this about a home?”

  I shrug. “I built her a homeless shelter and staffed it for her sixteenth birthday. Portia spends every free moment there helping people. She’s got a huge heart. I help out now and again when I have the time. When she turns eighteen, we’re going to open many more of them throughout the country.”

  I see that Rachel likes my notion of helping the less privileged. I chuckle quietly because she is totally useless at hiding her surprise. I would wager a small fortune that she thought I spent nearly all of my preciously valuable free time fucking blondes.

  Sorry, girl. I have to disappoint you there. My daughter holds poll position in my life then comes my firm. Just, since I met you, I am having a bit of trouble with the rankings. I am only hoping you will help me out with that in the coming months, preferably weeks because I am the most impatient man in the world.

  “Okay, now that my daughter’s out of the way, let’s get back to business. You’ve heard my offer and this is what I want in return. We will discuss the fine print over steak sandwiches and some more champagne,” I say, clearing my mind and focusing on the task at hand.

  Chapter 8

  RACHEL

  I never thought of Sean as the philanthropic type. I never thought of him as a good father. I never thought of him as a husband, and yet, he is and was all of those things. Our discussions after Portia left had been good, very fair and emotional. I just can’t make my mind up whether this is what I want. I had spent the entire flight back to the states thinking about it. It was the only time that I more or less got to myself.