His to Have: A Billionaire Romance

by Hayes, Piper

  “Fine,” I say. I just want out of the car. My night with Blake had melted away all of my worries. Ten minutes with Ben had brought them all back with a vengeance.

  “About how we left things,” he adds.

  “Ben,” I protest.

  “I told your brother about us. That’s why I had to leave. He and I were out at a club in the city. He had paid a small fortune to get fake ID’s made. It was late at night, and we had been drinking, and I decided I couldn’t wait another minute without letting everyone know how I felt about you.”

  Ben pointed to the side of his head. He said he knew I’d been fucking you, and that he was going to kill me. The bottle opened up a three-inch gash in my scalp. The next thing I knew, I was in the hospital, and your family lawyer was talking about pressing charges. At first I didn’t know what to tell you, and I was embarrassed and ashamed that I had let something like that happen, and then too much time had passed. My mother decided to pull me out of school, and I did my final year of high school at a school North of Boston. Look, I don’t expect you to forgive me for how I left things, but I want you to know that I’m sorry, and when I saw you coming out of Blake Bennett’s place, I knew I had to tell you at least some of what’s going on.

  “Is this it?” the driver asked as he pulled up to the curb in front of my building.

  I’m breathless, and I don’t know what to do. I place my hand on Ben’s for a second. There’s so much I want to say to Ben. I want to yell at him for not telling me this years ago, I want to tell him that it’s not his fault, but I know nothing I can do will change the past. “Yeah,” I tell the driver. “This is it.”

  Ben slips a piece of paper into my hand. He’s written his number on it. I shove it into my pocket and step out of the cab. Suddenly I know why Blake is so thrilling. There’s no past with him. No unspoken regrets, nothing like that. There’s only the present. Too bad Ben just told me it’s all a lie. I stop just short of the front door and turn around. Ben is still there. There’s a whole mess of emotions tangled in my gut as his eyes meet mine and the cab slowly pulls away.

  ***

  I can see the envelope from down the hall. At first I assume someone has stuck a flyer of some kind to my door, some notice about elevator maintenance or a noise complaint, but as soon as I get closer, I see it’s just an envelope with the word “occupant” printed on the front. I pull it down and pull out the letter. I get to the words “early termination of lease,” and “outstanding balance,” and stop. When an ordinary person gets evicted, there’s a bright orange notice that says get out. I get a polite letter from a law firm downtown informing me that my father hasn’t paid the rent in three months. I force myself to read the rest.

  I have until the end of the month to move my belongings off site. There’s nothing about me getting kicked out. It’s all passive and cordial, and it makes me want to scream. Once I’m inside I throw my purse to the ground and lie down in the middle of my living room floor. Just when I thought things were starting to turn around, life found a way to pull the rug out from under me.

  What the hell am I going to do? I’m still holding out hope that there was some kind of mistake. My father promised me that the rent had been paid through the end of the lease, which would mean at least another month. I reach over and dig my phone out of the purse. I swallow my pride and dial. My blood pressure rises with each ring. I don’t know if I’m annoyed or relieved when it goes through to voicemail. “Leave a message,” is all the recording says.

  “Dad, call me back when you get this. It’s urgent.” I hang up and lie back down. A moment later, the phone starts to buzz.

  “Hello?” I say.

  “Morning,” says the voice on the other end. This is not my father.

  “Blake?” I ask.

  “Were you expecting someone else?” he says. “You sound disappointed.”

  “No, relieved. I just, um, what are you calling for?”

  “What are you doing right now?” he asks.

  “I’m sitting in the middle of my living room floor, talking to you.”

  “I want you to join me for dinner tonight. Are you in?”

  “I don’t know if I’m in the mood for it,” I say. “This day hasn’t gotten off to the best start.” I wonder how much I should tell him. It’s embarrassing, deeply embarrassing. I’ve never had to worry about money or status in my life, and here I am about to spill all of my feelings to a guy I barely know.

  “Rather hang out on the floor?”

  “I just got some bad news, that’s all. Can you give me some time to think it over?”

  “Sure, but in exchange, I need your address.”

  “Why?” I ask. “Planning on coming over to give me a little convincing?”

  He laughs. His laugh is deep and warm and full, and hearing it makes me feel a little bit better for a moment. “Careful, Cat. You might just convince me that’s not a bad idea. Is there room for two on that floor?”

  “What do you think?” I ask.

  “Give me the address and I’ll let you know.”

  I tell him my address, and he tells me I’ll have his answer soon, and I find myself waiting. I’m staring at the door as if he’s going to magically appear. Ten minutes pass. Then twenty. What the hell am I doing? I ask myself. I have a hundred other things to worry about right now, and whether or not Blake is on his way over shouldn’t be one of them. But it is. It’s the only thing I can think of. And I nearly jump up when I hear the knock on the door. How the hell did he get past the doorman? Do I even want to know?

  Another knock. I straighten my hair as I scramble to the door. I pull it open and find myself standing face to face with, well, with a large box.

  “Ms. Carlisle?” A man asks. “I have a delivery from Mr. Bennett.”

  “Of course,” I say. I turn and tell the deliveryman to leave the boxes on the counter. Once the boxes are down, I realize he’s wearing a suit and tie, and doesn’t look much like any delivery man I’ve ever seen. I also realize he’s looking straight at the letter that says I’m getting kicked out of my apartment. Shit. He looks away before I can say anything, and I wonder if it’s better to just pretend it was nothing at all. He hands me an envelope, and I tell him to hold on so I can find my purse and tip him. Maybe that will be enough to help him forget about what he saw.

  “No need,” he says. He can’t help but break a smile. He looks familiar, very familiar, but I can’t place him.

  “Do I know you from somewhere?” I ask.

  “Possibly,” he says. He holds out a hand. He’s good looking, but not in the way Blake is. His hair is thinning and he has crows feet at the corners of his eyes, but he looks reassuring, or he would if I weren’t freaked out about him seeing the letter and mentioning it to Blake. “Damien Ross, I work for Mr. Bennett. I handle irregular duties for the company. Delicate situations, crises, etc. I actually live right around the corner from here. Nice place.”

  Great. Not only does this guy probably know I’m getting kicked out of my place, but he’s Blake’s personal fixer. I wonder if he’s here to negotiate some terms on Blake’s behalf or to make me sign an NDA. “So is this a delicate situation or crisis?” I ask.

  “I hope it’s neither,” he says. “I was heading home before heading to deal with a little flare-up in Boston.” He looks down at the letter. “Blake said to let me know if you need anything.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Of course,” he says. He turns for the door. “He likes you,” he says before letting himself out. “In all the time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him like this. The only advice I’ll give you is that no one I know has ever gone wrong taking a chance on Blake as long as it was for the right reasons.” Then Damien is gone, and I’m alone with two boxes. They’re numbered. One is white. The other is black. I open the black one first. Inside it is a neatly folded black dress and a small note that reads: “For Dinner.” The dress is my size, and it is beautiful. I wonder what’s in the
white box. It’s sealed tighter shut than the first one, and I have to get a knife to cut it open. I remove a layer of tissue paper. “For Dessert.” There’s more tissue paper and I pull it out until I find something cool and smooth. I pull it out and look at it for a minute. It’s a long strip of silk. I reach back into the box and find another. There’s something else in the box. I reach in and pull out a glass container. I know what’s in it before I even pull it out. It’s impossible not to. It’s ice cold. Apparently he was listening after all.

  I tear open the letter and read it.

  Catherine, I hope you’ll join me tonight. I think you’ll find the contents of each box well suited to their purpose. You lead me through dinner, and I’ll take care of everything from there.

  -Blake.

  I find my phone and call him back.

  “You got my message?” Blake asks.

  “Loud and clear,” I say. “I thought this was about business not pleasure.”

  “There’s no reason why it can’t be about both. How about I pick you up at seven?”

  I unscrew the contained and pick out a piece of ice, letting it melt in my palm. “What if I’m not interested in waiting that long?”

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says. “And remember anticipation makes everything that much sweeter.”

  “Is that so?” I ask.

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” Blake says. “See you tonight.”

  “See you then,” I say. I hang up, deciding I want at least some control of the conversation. I take a long look at the ice and the silk ties, and I decide I’m going to enjoy myself tonight. Of course, that’s if the anticipation doesn’t kill me first.

  Chapter 5

  Catherine

  Blake stands in the doorway staring at me. “Cat, you look amazing,” he says.

  “You say that as if I didn’t look good before.”

  “I just wasn’t able to tell you last time,” he says. I’ll take the answer. He walks over to the boxes. “Did you open both of them.”

  “I have the other presents in my purse.”

  “I hope the ice will keep,” he says. He smiles and almost looks bashful for a second.

  “I meant the silk ties.”

  “I like to call them restraints,” he says.

  “Oh yeah?” I ask. “Why’s that?”

  “Because it will take an awful lot of restraint not to skip the dinner and use them on you right now.” He wraps his arm around me. “Now let’s go before I run out of willpower. I figure I can use the lulls in conversation to think of new and interesting ways of using them on you.” I wonder if I should abandon all pretexts and take him here and now, but instead, I follow. There will be plenty of time for that later.

  The dinner’s at the Stratus Room, one of those restaurants at the top of a too-tall building. I know the place well. It’s one of New York’s preeminent places to see and be seen. This is due in part to its exclusivity as much as its gourmet food and sweeping views. There’s a well-known joke that the only thing higher than its location is its prices, which is probably why it attracts every social striver from the tri-state area.

  During the ride across town, Blake briefs me on the dinner. “We’re meeting with Tom and Nell Peterson. Have you ever heard of them? Tom manages a swath of pension funds. Nell’s a member of the Junior League. They’re a few years older than I am, mid thirties.”

  “It’s a fairly common name,” I say. “Do you know where they summer? Hamptons? Nantucket?”

  “Tom’s folks have a place in Southampton, but he and Nell live in Greenwich.”

  “I don’t know them personally, but I might have gone to school with one of his cousins if it’s the family I’m thinking of.”

  “You should mention that.”

  I shake my head. “She had a bit of a reputation. Got caught in bed with another’s cousin’s wife. Her grandfather was the one who walked in on them. Can you imagine? I should probably mention that he’s a federal judge. Anyway, she and the cousin’s wife, ran off to Europe. I hear they’re quite happy.” I gauge Blake’s reaction. If he’s amused, he’s doing a good job of hiding it.

  “Maybe we should avoid that topic of conversation. Any other land mines to steer clear of?” he says.

  I walk Blake through the social entanglements of Southampton, but, in all honesty, a twenty minute car ride and a minute in an elevator isn’t enough time to scratch the surface. “Just be yourself,” I tell him as we head into the Stratus Room. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  “If I do something stupid just tap my foot under the table, and I’ll stop,” he says. Blake sees Tom and Nell already seated and leads me over. I wait for Blake to make the social faux pas he’s been predicting since the morning, but he doesn’t. He’s suave, and charming and funny. He seems right in place as he introduces me to the Petersons.

  I catch Tom’s eye as Blake makes the introduction. “Catherine Carlisle?” he asks. “As in Richard Carlisle’s daughter?”

  I nod. “Try not to hold it against me.”

  Nell laughs. “Don’t worry about us. I remember when I first met Tom, my parents told me I was forbidden from consorting with a Peterson. I don’t even remember the reason why,” she says. “Your thing will blow over.”

  Somehow I doubt her story includes a squandered fortune, a social fall from grace and the possibility of criminal prosecution, but I smile and nod anyway.

  “Just don’t tell your father that I’m meeting with the enemy,” Tom says. “Then again, if you’re dating the enemy, he probably has bigger concerns than me.”

  “The enemy,” I say to Blake, “I guess now I understand why I find you so appealing.”

  The Petersons laugh, and I laugh. We all laugh and talk and order dinner and have a generally wonderful time. There’s no way Blake needed my help in talking with these people. They adore him. It’s not hard to see why. I slide my foot across to his and tap lightly, catching his glance.

  “So how did the two of you meet?” Nell asks.

  “We met at a party, well outside a party. I took one look at Catherine and decided I didn’t want to waste another minute looking at anyone else. I introduced myself, and she promptly told me I could go to hell.”

  “I don’t quite remember using those words,” I say. I crack a smile, “but the offer still stands.”

  Nell laughs. “The two of you are just so charming.”

  I tap Blake’s foot again. “I’m going to run to the bathroom quickly,” I say. I give Blake an unsubtle look.

  “I’ll follow you over,” Blake said. “I still don’t get the layout of this place.” It’s a transparent lie, but he gets up and offers me his arm.

  I wait until we’re in the hallway before I set in on him. “What the hell am I doing here?” I ask.

  “What’s wrong?” Blake asks. “Dinner’s going great.”

  “They love you. You have absolutely no need for my help here,” I say.

  “Maybe I just want you here,” Blake replies.

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t stop thinking about you, and I don’t want to spend another minute apart, and I plan on spending the next hour undressing you in my mind.” Blake looks up and down the hallway and pulls me into a corner. He kisses me hard and slow, and I feel a rush of excitement as he slides his tongue against mine. I steal a glance over my shoulder and see that we’re alone. I rock my hips against him.

  “We could make some excuse and head out early.” I kiss his neck and whisper, “What do you think?”

  Blake slides a hand up the inside of my thigh and presses his fingers against my sex. He slowly rubs my clit with one firm finger, and I’m already wet for him. God, I want him. He slips my panties to the side and slides the finger inside me. I gasp in delight.

  “Do you remember what I said earlier?” Blake asks.

  I don’t remember anything. All I can think of is how badly I want to fuck Blake right this second. My breaths are getting hotter and heavier
on my lips. I can feel my cheeks starting to blush. As Blake strokes against my inner walls, each motion sends new waves of pleasure through my body. “I need you,” I say.

  I can feel that he’s getting turned on, too. I can tell that he wants exactly what I want. I contemplate dragging him into the bathroom and letting him take me against the wall. I’m so crazed with excitement that it almost seems like a good idea. I close my eyes as the pleasure deep in my core intensifies. I’m feeling weak in the knees, and I’m moments from climax. Just when I feel like I can’t take it for another second, Blake slides his finger out and kisses my cheek. I exhale sharply.

  “Anticipation,” he says, “makes everything that much better. Now let’s get back to our table before people start to wonder.” He pulls something out of his pocket and hands it to me. It’s another strip of silk. “I want you to think about how I’m going to use this on you once we’re alone.”

  It’s a request I can’t deny.

  The rest of the dinner is torture. The food is great, and the conversation is wonderful, but all I want is to get Blake in private so I can have my way with him. What’s worse, he knows how badly I want him, and he keeps looking at me with complete lust in his eyes. I wonder how much of this the Petersons notice, but I don’t really care. I’m thinking about the way Blake’s touch felt. I’m fantasizing about how he’s going to tie me up and take everything he wants. I want to feel Blake’s finger’s running through my hair as he pushes himself inside me. I want to feel his firm hands locked on my hips as he fucks me hard, and I don’t want to wait another second.

  It feels like an eternity before we’re alone again. As soon as we’re in the car headed back to his place, I want to tear into him, but he holds back. “Patience, Cat,” he says. He rubs the inside of my thigh again and kisses my neck.

  “Tell me what you want,” I say.

  “I want you,” he says.”

  “Tell me exactly what you want.”