Romance: The Billionaires Collection (Watched By A Billionaire, Stranded With A Billionaire, Caught By A Billionaire, Billionaire Stepbrother)

by Lexi Duval

“Don't move. Stay right where you are.”

  Behind him, I see two guns trained on me, both held firm in the large grips of his twin bodyguards. A murmur runs through the bar from its sparse occupants, but there's no panic. The clientele here seem like the sort who are used to seeing guns and violence.

  “Tanner, clear the room,” says Sage, eyes still linked to mine.

  At his back, one of his bodyguards calls loudly.

  “Everyone get out of here, right now.”

  There's quick movement, and Tanner ushers them all out into the cold, including the disgruntled looking barman.

  The other remaining bodyguard steps forward, passes Sage a pistol, and takes a few steps back.

  I control my breathing and study the man. His eyes are so dark they're almost black, his hair short and functional, his body tall and strong looking beneath a tailored suit.

  He holds the gun casually at me while stepping forward and dropping into a chair on the other side of the table.

  “Check her,” he grumbles, and the remaining bodyguard marches toward me.

  His hands thrust around my body as I lift my arms into the air.

  “I'm not armed,” I say, but he doesn't listen. His hands explore every inch of me, slipping up and down and then checking my bag.

  I can't hide the grimace from appearing on my face as he pulls out the box with the earrings inside.

  Sage smiles, and looks at me with an air of reverence.

  “Impressive,” he says.

  “She's clean, Sir,” says the guard.

  “Thank you. Now go and wait outside. I'd like to speak with the lady alone.”

  The guard nods and retreats, leaving only the two of us in the bar.

  Sage reaches forward and digs his hand into my handbag, retrieving my I.D. He glances over it, then up at me, and a frown furrows his brow.

  “You're looking different today, Miss Wright. I think you look better with the dark hair and eyes.”

  He smiles and places the I.D back in my bag.

  “Now, do me a favor and lose the wig and the contacts. I want to see who I'm really dealing with here.”

  I hesitate, but the tapping of his pistol on the wooden table makes me spring into action. I pull the wig away, revealing my bunched up brown hair, and carefully extract the blue contacts from my eyes, discarding them to the floor.

  “Much better,” he says, gently laying his pistol down on the table. “Now, Kristen, I think we need to talk, don't you?”

  I slowly nod.

  “How did you find me?”

  “Now isn't that the question,” he says, opening up the little box with the earrings inside. “There's a tracker in the lining. Very simple really. I'd have thought the Night Panther would have been cleverer than that...”

  “How do you know I'm the Night Panther?” I ask.

  “I don't. Not for sure. Are you saying you aren't?”

  I don't answer, but maintain a stoic and unreadable expression. Inside, I'm just trying to fathom a plan. Some way of getting out of this. Working through the options I have, trying to figure out what game he's playing. Because I haven't heard the sound of a cop car yet, and I get the impression that he's got some other agenda...

  He leans closer into me, peering into my eyes, running his gaze over the shape of my body.

  “Oh you're the Night Panther alright,” he exhales with eager eyes. “Sleek and cunning as a cat...but outwitted by a tiger.”

  He leans back again, and turns to the bar, before taking his pistol and standing up again. He saunters over behind it, and pulls a bottle of whiskey from the back counter, filling two glasses and returning.

  He pushes one glass over to me, and takes a sip of his own.

  “What do you want with me?” I ask, noting his obvious enjoyment at toying with me.

  “To strike a deal,” he says casually.

  “What kind of deal?”

  “The kind that will keep you out of jail, as long as you do what I say.”

  His mention of jail has a very real impact on my usually calm expression. I grimace at the sound of the word and the floods of memories that it brings to my mind. It's a place I never, ever want to return to. A place I'd do anything to avoid seeing again.

  I reach forward and take a gulp of whiskey, the amber liquid soothing my beating heart and frazzled nerves.

  “I need you to perform a job for me,” he says, his eyes loitering on me again, melting into me with a lustful stare. “But first...there's something else I want from you.”

  “And what's that?”

  He takes another sip of whiskey, as if to prolong the moment.

  “You,” he says simply. “I've fantasized over meeting the Night Panther for some time. And now that I've met you, well, you more than meet my expectations. Let's just say, you've further piqued my interest.”

  I wait for him to continue, the expression on his face suggestive of where he's going with this.

  “Tomorrow night, you will return to where you took my earrings. You will wear a black dress, black make up, black heels. You will arrive at the gate at precisely 7 PM. And you will,” he says, lowering his voice, “do exactly what I tell you to do. Is that clear?”

  “And if I don't?” I ask.

  “You know who I am, and you know just what will happen if you don't.”

  He leans closer to me, a light cologne filling my nose, and his eyes droop over my lips, plastered in red lipstick as part of my now discarded disguise.

  “Kristen, I have no intention of sending you to jail. You're far more use to me out of it. Now, I'll see you tomorrow evening.”

  He stands up, holding his pistol loosely, and speaks one more thing before leaving me there alone.

  “And make sure you're clean shaven,” he says, glancing down between my thighs. “I prefer a hairless pussy.”

  And with those words lighting a strange fire inside me, he turns on his heels and walks back out into the cold.

  Chapter Four

  It's a strange sensation, returning to the scene of the crime.

  Generally, it's a death sentence for any criminal to do so, and I've always been sure to get as far away as possible after a major score.

  But not this time. It's only two nights since I infiltrated Sage Dalton's mansion and here I am once again, this time entering by invite and making my way toward the front gate.

  I arrive in a cab, the driver unable to hold his restraint at seeing the grand gate and estate beyond.

  “Whoa, you live here or just visiting?!” he asks.

  “The latter, fortunately,” I say. “Who'd want to live in a museum like that?”

  The cabbie shrugs.

  “Better than the hovel I live in,” he jokes, before greedily taking the hefty fare. “Have a good evening Miss, and call me if you need a ride back to town.”

  He passes me a personal card, which I didn't think cabbies held, and I stow it in my purse, knocking it will see the first trash can I pass.

  He skids off down the road and I approach the gate, thinking that it was pretty stupid to let the driver go before taking me closer to the house. Beyond the gate, the driveway leads for a good quarter mile to the mansion, and I'm already growing bitterly cold in the fierce breeze.

  The guard eyes me closely, and I wonder if he knows I was the one who got past his watch the other night. In fact, he probably wasn't on duty then. I'm sure that particular guard will have been fired already for letting me slip through the net.

  Still, he's got a look of suspicion on his face as I tell him who I am and he waves me through. The gate opens with a groaning metallic creek, and I begin making my way up the long tree-lined driveway toward the giant mansion in the distance.

  As instructed, it's 7 PM on the dot, and the night is already dark. Yet still, the main pathway is well lit, the glow of dozens of lights spilling down on flower beds and statues and fountains as I pass.

  After a brisk five minute walk, I arrive at the main steps to the mansion, a
nd climb them to the front door. When I ring the bell, I'm greeted by a woman wearing an apron and a stern expression.

  “You must be Miss Wright.” She doesn't wait for me to answer. “Please, follow me.”

  She ushers me straight into the house, and I see it for the first time lit and alive. It seems even more grand when bathed in the soft glow of a hundred lights, the ceilings high and the walls carved and covered in art and beautiful furnishings.

  Personally, it's not for me. Too archaic and palatial. Much more than a girl from a humble background could ever get used to.

  But still, I can see the appeal for a man like Sage Dalton. I think of the sort of parties he could host here. The simple egotistical pleasure of knowing that you live in the grandest estate in town. As if it's just one massive game of my dick's bigger than your dick.

  The housekeeper leads me on into a living room. There's a roaring fire, bookcases on the walls, large sofas dotted around lush carpets. It's opulent and stately, but feels homely in its own way.

  Sitting in a chair, I see Sage, dressed in a gray suit, legs crossed over each other. He nurses a glass of scotch, his fingers lightly tipping it to his lips. He doesn't stand as I enter, only sits there watching me as the housekeeper announces my arrival before beating a hasty retreat.

  “Come in, Kristen,” his voice booms from across the room. “How does the place look to you with the lights on?”

  I walk in, maintaining my poise and confidence.

  “It looks how it looks,” I say. “I've never much cared for such grand spaces.”

  Sage laughs, and invites me to sit on a sofa opposite him. I do, where a glass of scotch already awaits me on a side table.

  “Now tell me, how did you know where to find the earrings? I take it they were why you came here two nights ago?”

  I sit down, sizing up my adversary, and relax as he is with my scotch in hand.

  “I have my means, Mr Dalton...”

  “Please, call me Sage. By the night's end, we'll be on a first name basis I can assure you. Might as well get started now.”

  “OK, Sage. I came for the diamond earrings, yes. I had heard about them a while ago through rumors and hearsay. They were for your ex wife, were they not?”

  “They were. But she didn't suit them well enough. Or me. And how about the safe. You knew where it was, and you knew how to get inside. I must say, I am impressed.”

  “You shouldn't be. Once inside the house, getting the earrings was the easy part. You really must bolster your security. I managed to discover the whereabouts of the safe through blueprints. The code was easy to see by your fingerprints. You just need to look through the right spectrum, that's all.”

  He'd nodding, clearly impressed.

  “I'll take your advice on board, Kristen. I must say, you're a fascinating character. I'd love to hear about how you got to this point in life. The Night Panther. You're fast becoming a legend...”

  He stands and moves toward me, and refills my glass of scotch before settling back down.

  “Dinner will be up shortly. I'd like to hear your story then.”

  “Some things I'd prefer to keep quiet,” I say.

  His expression changes, his displeasure obvious.

  “Do you not recall what I told you yesterday morning? You will do everything I say. And that includes telling me what I want to know. Don't worry, it's just between me and you. As long as you do what I want, I'll forget about this whole episode. Fair?”

  I nod, knowing it's more than fair. The guy's got me right where he wants me, and frankly there's little I can do but concede to his demands.

  And I know just where those demands will take us...

  Before long, the housekeeper reappears to announce dinner, and Sage leads me through into a grand dining room where we sit and eat.

  As soon as we've started, he tells me to start recounting my story.

  “Now, Kristen, I want you hear about your life. I've never met anyone like you, and that's rare in my world. So please, enlighten me. Tell me what makes you tick.”

  So I tell him, and hold less back than I thought I might. I talk about my childhood, going from foster family to foster family. I tell him about my late teenage years, the petty theft and burglaries I got into and the time I spent in jail.

  Somehow, as more alcohol passes my lips, I find myself telling him more than I ever have anyone. I put it down to the lowering of my inhibitions through alcohol, but I find it all strangely cathartic. It's all stuff that I've had bottled up for years, and it actually feels pretty darn good getting some of it off my plate.

  Soon, I'm asking my own questions of him, and he's opening up too. His world is nothing like mine, pretty much the opposite actually. A great upbringing, great family, all the money in the world. The only thing we have in common, however, is that we're both now parentless.

  “This house was my parent's place,” he says. “I didn't buy it myself. But I grew up here, and I know it inside out.”

  “And how did you parents die?” I ask, already having told him that mine both succumbed separately to drug overdoses before I was old enough to know what an overdose was.

  “In a plane crash. They were returning from vacation, but were lost in a storm. The remains were never found.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “Don't be, Kristen. These things happen. It's life.”

  He seems quite callous, although I can tell it's a front. It's the same armor I wear. In some ways, I feel as though I'm looking in a mirror at him. At someone so similar, yet so different to me at the same time. It's a strange sensation.

  We eat and drink together for more than two hours, and I find that I'm actually enjoying the evening. Against all expectation, I find him as fascinating as he finds me, and I start to grow excited at the thought of where this night is going to lead.

  We dance around each other, two adversaries squaring up and coming out the other side on equal terms. And then, when he tells me dinner's over and we're going upstairs, I realize that we're not equal at all.

  That he's the boss. That he's holding all the cards. And that this night is only just getting started...

  Chapter Five

  We're in a bedroom on the first floor, colored in crimson and gold. For the last few minutes, Sage has been watching me strip, watching as I slip out of my little black dress and show him everything I have beneath.

  His eyes, clouded with alcohol and erotic fervor, stare at me from across the room, black lights in the shadows against the wall.

  “Move back to the bed,” he tells me. “It's time to get started.”

  I step backward, my body shaking with an excitement and a throb of nerves. But it's more anticipation at what's to come, at the idea of sex with the man. It's been a while since I was penetrated, since I felt the sting of a man's cock, the touch of his lips, the groping of his fingers.

  Tonight I'll feel them all.

  I'm wearing only heels now as I drop down onto the bed and sit on the edge. In my professional life as a thief, I'm completely comfortable, completely confident. But here, I'm entering a world that's been alien to me for some time. A place I used to know well but have since abandoned.

  So I sit, my legs closed tight, and wait for him to tell me what to do next. Now, with my own blood coursing with scotch and wine, I'm happy for his orders. Happy he's the one telling me just what to do and when to do it. If he wasn't, I might have found myself lost, not knowing quite how to behave, as if my long barren spell has turned me back into a virgin.

  Still, Sage sits in the shadows, unmoving.

  “Open your legs wide,” he says.

  My pulse leaps, and I slowly, sensually, uncross my legs and spread them open.

  “Wider.”

  I'm agile, and flexible, and clearly he knows it. Soon my legs are completely open and my pussy on full display, neat and cleanly shaven.

  “Play with yourself,” comes the next order.

  Continuing playing the part, I slide my l
eft hand down over my navel, through the sensitive skin of my groin, and between the slits of my cunt. I run my fingers between the folds, up and down in a motion I think he'll enjoy.

  Then I creep inside, pushing an index finger through the lips, feeling the sticky wetness within. No further orders come, so I continue to play, my index finger joined by my middle finger, my digits working together, rubbing my clit, bringing pangs of pleasure through me.

  And still, the billionaire remains seated, hidden in the dim light. It makes me wonder whether he just likes to watch, or whether soon he'll join me...

  “Now turn around, bend over, and spread your legs.”

  His words interrupt me just as I'm getting started, almost forgetting he's even here with me. In the throes of it, I'm starting to let go of myself. I stand, spin, and bend down onto the bed until my breasts are lying against the soft and silky duvets on top.

  I widen my legs again, showing him a full view of my vagina from behind. And without him asking this time, I reach back between my legs and start rubbing again, picking up where I left off...

  “Good. You know what you're doing.”

  Bent over and looking the other way, his voice sounds suddenly nearer. I hear him stand and step toward me, but I don't stop.

  Now I feel the touch of his fingers. They fall onto the flesh of my ass, and I can hear him breathing more heavily. A heavy inhale of lust at the sight of my ass, my fingers still working at the folds of my pussy, still digging their way inside and coming out shiny.

  Both his hands meet my flesh, and slowly work around my cheeks and up my lower back. One drifts lower, and makes contact with my sodden digits. When I feel the shape of his large finger entering me, I gasp as a new buzz rattles through my insides.

  But his finger soon slips out, and doesn't return, and I continue to rub and finger myself.

  “Do you play with yourself a lot?” Sage asks behind me, his voice husky now.

  I twist my neck and look back to him, maintaining my bent over pose. He's looming behind me, eyes slowly lifting from the sight below his eyes and up to my face. I smile sexily, belying my relative and recent inexperience.