Billionaire's Matchmaker

by Sierra Cartwright

  “Stop.”

  He stood and came around to her side of the table. She almost died when he flipped back the tablecloth and removed her napkin from her lap.

  “Everything okay, Mr. Sterling?” the waiter asked, hurrying over.

  “Fine, thank you.”

  With a nod, the man left them alone.

  “Put your hands on the table, sweet Hope.” He devoured her defenses, seeing straight into the secrets she hid in her soul “And leave them there.”

  “Yes, Sir.” All the while, the sensations continued.

  “We’ll start again at ten.”

  What little remained of her composure threatened to splinter.

  He snugged the crotch against her pussy. “That’s better.” He returned to his seat.

  Tears of need and subjugation flooded her.

  Once he held his coffee again, she started at ten. Her voice trembled, shook, broke as she fought off an orgasm, and more, tried to please him. Hope clenched and unclenched her hands with no attempt to hide her emotions. And when she reached zero, he shut off the vibrator.

  Out of breath, proud of herself, delirious with joy, she sank back.

  “I appreciate your efforts. You and your tears sustain me.”

  “Thank you…Sir.” Pleasing him fed something deep inside her as well. Was that fucked up? Or was it perfect?

  “Dessert?” he suggested, moving the ramekin toward her.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “It’s a beautiful evening. How about a stroll before we head back to the Parthenon?” Rafe suggested when they were outside on the wraparound porch.

  While that sounded wonderful, she was still turned on from the incident with the panties, and she was anxious about the rest of the evening. “With these shoes, Mr. Sterling, it will have to be a short one.”

  “I’ll carry you if you need me to.” His tone was dead serious.

  The image of her held in his arms made her giggle. “I think that would count as cruel and unusual punishment.”

  He held on to her as they descended the front steps.

  When they arrived, she hadn’t realized how astounding the grounds were. The privacy of the patrons was protected by miles of hedges. No one, even on the river, would be able to peek inside. In front of them was a parking area surrounded by a giant sculptured hedge. Arm in arm, she and Rafe had explored the water fountain topped with a four-foot-tall carnival mask. Four curved concrete benches framed the area, with narrow paths between each leading toward the fountain. The edge was high enough to sit on.

  Beyond, closer to the road that they’d arrived on, was a maze that he vowed to take her through on a future visit. As they watched, four people approached the entrance. The man stated the three women would receive a head start. Whoever made it out before he did was safe. Whoever didn’t would be flogged while the others watched.

  She gasped.

  “Shocked?”

  Unable to answer him, Hope stubbed the front of her shoe into the ground. The truth was, she was aroused.

  Two of the women giggled and headed into the maze. The third was slower and got her ass swatted. Her yelp carried across the distance as she scurried off.

  After checking his watch, the man strolled into the maze.

  “I’m guessing he’s done this before and knows the way.”

  “So, he’s cheating?” Hope asked.

  “I prefer the phrase playing to win.”

  The enthusiastic squeals and laughs receded as she and Rafe walked toward a topiary garden. Instead of gorillas or giraffes, these bushes had been shaped like masks, handcuffs, a harlequin, all the shapes that appeared on a card deck, even a mermaid. “This is astounding.”

  “I thought you’d enjoy it.”

  “Are we allowed to take pictures here?”

  “As long as they don’t include people, yes. And they cannot be posted to social media.”

  She fished her phone from her purse. When she was going to take a selfie, he asked if she wanted him to take her picture.

  “Thank you.”

  He instructed her to stand near the harlequin. But that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted her to lean one way, prop her hand on her hip, glance sideways at the topiary. “Bossy.”

  He snapped dozens of pictures. Then, when she was certain he was done, he took his phone from his jacket pocket. “More cleavage, please.”

  Her heart accelerated as anxiety and excitement tripped through her. But she did as he asked, parting the material a little more, then tucking it under so it stayed in place.

  “Even more beautiful.” As he snapped and zoomed and turned the phone to different angles, he walked toward her until he was standing next to her.

  He tapped an icon to the front-facing camera. Then he draped an arm around her shoulder. “Say ‘spank me, Sir.’”

  “Cheese!”

  He dropped his hand from her shoulder, reached down, hiked up her dress in the back, then pinched her ass hard.

  “Spank me, Sir!”

  “I love it when you behave. Again.”

  The warm air wrapped around her, and she was grateful for the panties preventing her from overexposure. “Spank me, Sir!”

  With a carefree grin, he pressed the button on his phone. Then he did it a second time, creating a rapid burst, filling the screen with a dozen images of them together.

  He reviewed the photos. “Perfect. Let’s get you back so I can give you the fucking you’ve earned.”

  Hope couldn’t breathe. Emotional weight constricted her chest. Desperate to escape her relentless thoughts, she eased herself from beneath Rafe’s muscular arm. He held her tight, even though he was asleep. When she was sure she hadn’t disturbed him, she slipped from the bed.

  She tiptoed to the bathroom and pulled out the fluffy white robe, tying the belt as she crossed into the living room. Hope checked over her shoulder, waiting for sounds that he was still asleep before opening one of the French doors that led to the patio.

  Outside, she turned on the landscape lights. She found the switch for the tub’s jets. Seconds later, the pump roared, and bubbles shot through the water’s surface.

  Just to be sure, she dipped a toe in the water to test the temperature. Finding it perfect, she slipped off the robe, tossed it over a chair, then paused on the first step to give her body time to adjust to the heat. Once she was in, she laid her head on the back of the hot tub and watched clouds play peekaboo with a sliver of moon.

  Though she was trying to unwind, she couldn’t shake memories of Rafe’s demands.

  After they’d arrived back at the cottage, he’d stripped off her panties and as she stood in the middle of the room, gotten on his knees, and delved between her legs, playing with her, eating her out. He’d rewarded her courage with a mind-destroying orgasm that left her on her knees too, holding on to him.

  As if she were precious, he’d stood, scooped her up, and taken her to the bedroom, where he’d made love to her. There’d been nothing but appreciation and caring in his touch. Though their coupling had lacked the physical sensations involved in one of their scenes, it had been so much more intense than anything else they’d shared, and it was devastating to her emotional well-being. When BDSM was involved, she could surrender her body while keeping her heart shrouded.

  But a couple of hours before, he’d stripped that protection from her, leaving her emotions raw.

  Afterward, Rafe had removed the collar so she would be more comfortable. She hadn’t been. Rather, the absence of its inflexible weight bothered her. When she admitted as much, he nodded, and she pretended everything was okay.

  He’d taken her to bed, then wrapped his arms around her until they both drifted off.

  Hours later, the touch had suffocated her, and she’d needed to escape.

  Warm water bubbled around her, the citrusy scent of magnolia drifted on the air, and cicadas buzzed in the nearby trees, yet Hope’s thoughts roiled.

  Out here, under the night sky, she could no lo
nger hide from the truth.

  She was halfway in love with Rafe Sterling. He’d been clear about his determination not to ever fall in love. Which meant she was invested in their relationship in a way he wasn’t. Experience had taught her that could be disastrous. A wayward part of her heart wanted to shout yes to him, his domination, his lovemaking, his proposal. Her brain zinged with warning bells. Loving him without being loved in return would destroy her.

  Afraid of waking Hope, Rafe snatched up his phone that was jumping across the kitchen counter.

  He sighed when he saw Celeste’s name on the screen. Rafe still expected his father to show up and do his duty.

  “Judge Anderson is willing to allow you to attend the planning meeting,” she said without preamble. “Be in the Grand House at ten.”

  “Thanks.” He dumped grounds into the coffeemaker, then turned the machine on.

  She didn’t immediately ring off, so he waited.

  “The woman you asked us to look into? One Elizabeth Martin doesn’t exist.”

  The fuck? “What do you mean Lillibet doesn’t exist?”

  “We accessed human resources files. All on paper. It would’ve been so much easier if they had been digital.”

  In other words, Fallon and Associates were already guilty of breaking and entering.

  “Her resumé was made up. The club doesn’t require an extensive background check, just calls to former employers and supplied references, none of whom we can locate. None of her coworkers know much about her, said she didn’t talk much. Didn’t show up for happy hours or participate in office gossip. Her colleagues thought she was a bit too friendly with some of the older members, but there had been no complaints about her work. One day, Elizabeth didn’t show up for work. Her employer tried to contact her with no luck. On the second day that she didn’t show, her boss went to her home. Which doesn’t exist.”

  “What about her paychecks?” He paced the room. “Can we see the bank records?”

  “She never cashed them.”

  What the hell were they dealing with?

  “How much money do you want to spend on this?”

  “How much are we talking?”

  “We’re already ten thousand in. I should have consulted you before, but I figured you’d want those results, at the least.”

  She was right.

  “I’ll need fifty thousand as a retainer.”

  He dug a hand through his hair. With the stakes and unanswered questions, Rafe had no choice.

  “I’ll need access to your dad’s phone records. He was contacting Elizabeth somehow.”

  Rafe had no idea whether Theodore’s line was on a company account. “It’s possible his assistant has them. Or…better, let me contact our IT department.”

  “Let me know. I’ll start to work on it from this end if needed.”

  A pit grew in his stomach.

  After he ended the call, he pressed redial on his dad’s number. As expected, Rafe reached voicemail. This time, instead of hanging up, he left a message. “We need to talk.” He paused, not for dramatic effect, but to figure out what to say next. Accusing his father’s paramour of something would further alienate him. “A package arrived for you. A contract for a house in…” Where? “Barbados. Do you want me to forward the paperwork?”

  Next, Rafe sent a message to the head of IT. Then he texted his mother to ask if his father had a personal cell phone account, and if so, were there any bills at their home or did she have access to an online account?

  When no response was forthcoming, he forced himself to put down his phone while he poured two cups of coffee.

  He carried them to the bedroom and found Hope snuggled deep beneath the comforter, her brunette hair spilled across the pillow. This morning, the sunshine reflected off it, giving it streaks of copper. Her head was tipped back, exposing her throat, the one he’d collared yesterday. Last night had been everything he’d hoped. She wasn’t just the perfect submissive. She was the perfect woman.

  Since she didn’t stir when he walked into the room, he left one cup on a small table, then walked across the room to stand next to her with the other. He moved a hand through the steam, wafting it her direction.

  Breathing out a sigh, she curled into a tighter ball, so he continued until she flipped onto her back.

  “I think I’m having a dream,” she said. “I don’t want to wake up to find it’s not real.”

  He swept the scent toward her one last time, and she pushed up onto her elbows. “This is real? There’s coffee in that cup?”

  “Indeed.”

  She scooched around, sitting up without dragging the sheet across her chest. His Hope had become emboldened.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and handed it over.

  “How do I make this happen every day?”

  “I think you know.” He smoothed tangled hair back from her forehead.

  After taking a sip, she purred. Then she drew her eyebrows together in a tiny, questioning furrow. “Are you telling me that if I marry you, you’ll bring me coffee every morning?”

  “We can write it into the vows.”

  “If you had said so on Wednesday, we could have saved ourselves a lot of time.”

  He smiled. “I’ve found the way to make you mine?”

  Over the rim, she grinned at him.

  “My meeting starts at ten. I thought I’d see if you wanted to go for that walk I promised you. We could have breakfast at the Grand House. You can sign up with the concierge for a massage or pedicure or whatever women do to their faces. Or you can spend the morning relaxing on the grounds or in the cottage.”

  “Sounds good. How much time do I have?”

  “Fifteen minutes?”

  She nodded, and before he could grab the shower, she claimed it for herself with a short laugh. He considered getting in there and heating her ass, but he’d be late for his meeting.

  After a quick wash, she stepped out, and while he showered, she dressed in the bathroom. “You’re making me horny,” he said, washing his hair.

  Hope lowered her mascara wand to bat her eyelashes at him.

  “I’m warning you, Hope. This is your version of living dangerously.”

  “Is it, Sir?”

  He was already anxious to get his meeting behind him.

  Within the allotted time, she was ready to go, dressed in formfitting white capri pants, a bright peach shirt, and a sensible pair of athletic shoes. If he made her drop her pants and ride him, the morning would be a complete success.

  Outside, the golf cart that he’d ordered earlier awaited them.

  “Is this your idea of a morning walk?” she teased.

  “It will get us to where we’re going faster.” Like a proper sub, she waited for him to help her in. “Doing what I ask of you…is it getting easier?”

  “It is.”

  He drove her toward the amphitheater known as the Acropolis. The clearing was shrouded with majestic Southern live oaks, lending an elegant air. Over the years, the seating had been expanded and now had nine tiers, all facing the enormous stage. “The facility holds just under a thousand people. We have entertainment here, lectures, discussions.”

  “It’s really impressive.” She pointed to the stage. “So, this is where the sacrifice happens?”

  “Fishing for information again?” Expecting nothing less than her full persistence, he grinned. “It’s a bonfire.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Doubt wrinkled her nose. “You’re sticking to that story?”

  Because this part of the country was infamous for its heat and humidity, the seating area was covered by massive peaked canvases with fans hanging from the beams. “There’s an elaborate sound system, which is in storage most of the year.”

  “Where does everyone stay?”

  “About five thousand people show up over the course of the two weeks. Since we don’t have enough lodging, we have a number of RV sites. More adventurous souls can pitch a tent under the shade trees. A lot of members sta
y in New Orleans, and we run a shuttle service back and forth.”

  “And the Maison Sterling offers discounts during that time?”

  “Absolutely not.” He grinned. “We charge full rate if we know we’re going to sell out.”

  “Is it true that some of the biggest rock stars have appeared at the opening night’s ceremony?”

  “The press does love to speculate.” He parked the golf cart under a tree. “Shall we take a walk along the river?” he asked, assisting her out.

  “We’re going to walk?”

  “I think you might enjoy it.” He held her hand as they walked up the berm that kept the mighty Mississippi at bay.

  “This… Wow.”

  He understood. Being so close to water, seeing the vast distance across and its churning tumble toward the Gulf of Mexico was stunning.

  “I’ve only ever seen it from the Riverwalk in New Orleans. With a to-go cup of café au lait.”

  “After a plateful of beignets?”

  “I’m not confessing.” She watched the river for a minute before shaking her head with awe. “It’s so different.”

  The Port of New Orleans and the Riverwalk were a big commercial network, with barges, tugs, tankers, cruise ships, even paddlewheel boats that hosted dinner cruises. On this bank, they were alone for miles.

  “It feels as if time has stood still,” she said. “I can imagine it looked like this a hundred years ago.”

  “No doubt it did.”

  For quite a distance, they walked along the top of the bank.

  “Do you do this a lot?”

  “Stroll? Relax? No.” He was so caught up in life, in responsibilities, that he rarely took time to enjoy the solitude. “That’s unfortunate, I suppose.”

  A man in a small fishing boat passed by, and they watched him maneuver around a massive log bobbing along on the surface.

  They walked for another ten minutes, mostly in silence, before turning back. Being unable to reach his father preyed on Rafe’s mind, and now, with the unsettling information about Lillibet, something had to be done.