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

by Lexi Duval

  I look at my watch purposefully, and my contact sees me do it.

  “Right, to business,” he says.

  He opens his laptop, and begins typing and clicking, before turning the screen to me. It's littered with small boxes and numbers, but in the middle is a loading icon, with the number 2,000,000 written onto it. It moves at pace, and quickly completes.

  “There you go. Two million, wired to your account. Now, let me have the merchandise.”

  I reach into my purse and remove the earrings, placed into a new box without a tracker. I pass it to my contact, who opens it up, inspects them quickly, and shuts it just as fast.

  “Excellent,” he says, before standing abruptly.

  He takes my hand, and kisses it.

  “If we don't see each other again, it's been a pleasure buying from you.”

  He winks, pops the earrings into his bag, and sets off toward the exit of the airport.

  Around me, the world hums and drums, crowds of people moving in a thousand directions with a thousand voices in the air. I look up at the departures board, and see that my flight is due to depart soon, and that boarding has commenced.

  I stand, small suitcase in hand, and begin making my way through security. I contain a little chuckle as I pass through, these people having no clue who I am, and than I'm responsible for one of the biggest jewelry thefts in American History.

  The Night Panther strikes again.

  That is the headline this morning. The story already leaking out that the world famous necklace was taken, daringly, from the neck of the hostess of a high society party at a mansion on Long Island.

  If the press are anything to go by, the cops have no real leads whatsoever, but the media seem to have already concluded that it was the infamous Night Panther once more.

  And yet here I am, walking through security at one of the largest airports in the world without a second's hesitation. Without my heart rate lifting even a single beat beyond its normal pace.

  Because I know that no one knows me. I am anonymous, never brought in for questioning by the police, never even looked upon by a single law enforcement officer with any hint of suspicion.

  I pass through security, and laugh as I do, each step taking me one step closer to total freedom. I pass a man waiting in a seating area for his flight to be called, and my eyes drift to the newspaper in his lap.

  I see the headlines again, and take in the image of the necklace that's now on the tips of everyone's tongues.

  The necklace that only two nights ago fell around my neck as I lay under Sage, feeling the thrust of his loins. I wonder what he's really going to do with it. Whether he'll try to sell it on and cash in his chips.

  He will never be able to tell anyone about it, save his closest confidants, and I find it hard to understand the obsession that people have with storing stolen pieces of jewelry and works of art. But, for me, that's been my life, delivering these items.

  And frankly, I've never questioned a buyer's intentions until now. Because Sage wasn't just any buyer.

  He was something a lot more...

  The sound of the speakers dotted around the airport blare once more, and I hear the last call for my flight. I search the boards, check the gate, and begin making my way through the departure lounge.

  I get there just in time, tailing onto the back of the line as the final few people get checked for their tickets and walk up the tunnel to the plane. Excited faces are everywhere – faces of those going on vacation, escaping their lives for only a week or two.

  It's not the same for me.

  I'm escaping my life forever.

  Up the tunnel I go, last to step onto the plane, and into my seat in first class. I decided that I'd treat myself on this occasion, wondering if it might be the last time I leave these shores.

  If that's to be the case, it might as well be in style.

  So I settle into my luxury seat, and gaze out the window at the wide stretch of tarmac, lined with plane after plane. And I look at the world beyond as we begin taxiing out onto the runway, waiting our turn to launch into the sky.

  And as the plane begins to shake and charge down the runway, I feel no spike of adrenaline. My heart doesn't begin to pace. All I do is sit and watch the world rush by, see the airport grow small in the distance, and set my eyes over the nation of my birth for the last time.

  And when we're level, and the seat belt signs have stopped glowing, a stewardess comes to me with a glass of champagne.

  “Champagne, Miss?” she asks.

  I take the glass and thank her and, looking once more out of the window, toast the nation I'm leaving behind. Toast the life I'm leaving behind.

  And finally, I toast Sage.

  For setting me free.

  Chapter Five

  I've spent little time on the beach in my life. Vacations when my parents were alive, and I actually had a family, weren't quite so lavish as to include beaches or mountains.

  But as I sit under the sun, a cocktail to my side and a trashy magazine in my lap, I realize that perhaps I've been missing out all these years.

  Ahead of me, the ocean laps gently against the shore. Further out, waves crash and swirl, tossing amateur surfers in the tumult. Some ride confidently, though, looking lean and slick as they cut across the surface of the water.

  And I think to myself, that maybe I should take it up.

  But not today.

  Today I'm relaxing, as I've been doing everyday for a month now. A month of acclimatizing, or finding my feet. A month of figuring out whether I want to stay here, in this tropical paradise with all the comforts of home.

  Bali.

  That's where I am, and not only because it's got all a young girl could need. I'm also here because, well, there's no extradition with the US. So, in the unlikely situation that I am found out, there's just about fuck all anyone can do about it.

  I've been weighing through my options, though. Buy a beach bar was one of them. I've had a few fun nights out locally, and have managed to ingratiate myself with some of the locals well enough. They seem like a friendly bunch, and maybe I could join their little fraternity for good.

  I could buy a diving school here, or maybe on another part of the island. Of course, I don't know the first thing about it, but I've had a few goes now under the waves and each time I come up I just want to go straight back down again.

  It's like visiting a whole new world. There's a simplicity to it all, an innocence of nature that really appeals to me. All these creatures going about their business, following their instincts and nothing more.

  And that's really what I'm looking for now. The simple life, away from the pressures of the world. Something that will give me peace and let me rot away without any interference.

  That's what I desire most.

  The good news is, it's all so cheap out here. I could buy a diving school and a beach bar and a nice villa with a pool and have plenty left over. I could become a part of this little island and actually have friends.

  Friends...

  The world has become so alien to me over these last few years. I guess, for as long as I can remember, I've been alone. Never settling anywhere or getting to know anyone. Perhaps it's time that changed.

  The great irony is that only Sage truly got through my defenses. The mark became the only person who was actually close to me, who began to get to know the real me.

  And, strangely, he's the only person I actually miss.

  I wonder if he misses me, though? That night, after we'd had sex in the living room, with me wearing only the necklace and earrings, I left as he slept. He took me to bed, and we fucked once more, and once he'd been overtaken by exhaustion and alcohol, I slipped away in the dead of night, creeping over the same wall I'd climbed over to steal the earrings several weeks before.

  I did it that way because that's just me. I had to cut things off right then and there, just in case I got in too deep. And already, he'd begun to push at my buttons, to get inside my hea
d.

  It was too much, so I left him there, naked in the bed, with one final glance at his face as he slept. I left the necklace on the bedside table next to him, leaving the earrings on my ears, and escaped.

  And before two days had passed, I was on that flight to Bali, leaving my world behind, and never intending to look back...

  The sun continues to beat down on me, and I continue to sip at my delicious cocktail from a twirly pink straw. I read my magazine, listen to the sound of the ocean, and slowly begin to feel drowsy, the heat and alcohol combining to send me into a peaceful little siesta.

  I'm awoken by the blocking of my sun, the world suddenly growing cooler and darker.

  My eyes crack open, and I peer from behind my shades at the shape of a man, standing right in my light. I pull my shades down, blink hard to try to recover my eyesight, and gradually, some features comes into view.

  Sharply cut hair, dark, almost black, eyes, and the frame of an athlete, strong arms sprouting out of the arms of a t-shirt.

  “I've been looking for you Kristen,” comes a deep voice. “You ran a long way...”

  The shadow continues to grow in clarity, and I see Sage's white smile shining from within his firmly set jaw.

  “Bali,” he says. “Very smart. No extradition. You planning on staying?”

  He sits down on the sun lounger next to me, clearing the path of the sun. It half blinds me again, and I shield it with my hand.

  “What the hell are you doing here?!”

  He shrugs, and speaks casually.

  “Like I said...I've been looking for you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I never really got a chance to thank you. Not properly, anyway...”

  “You did thank me. You did more than enough for me, Sage.”

  “But I'd like to do more, if you'd let me?”

  He leans forward, and sits on the lounger facing me. His fingers drift to the shades on my head, pulling them from my hair.

  “I wanted to ask you something...not order this time. Just ask.”

  My heart flutters slightly, jumping a beat.

  “What?”

  He assumes of posture of significance, like he's about to reveal something really serious. And then his face breaks into a smile.

  “I'd like to ask you to dinner, Kristen. So...what do you say?”

  “So this one isn't an order?”

  “I'd never give you another one...”

  “Well, in that case, how could I refuse.”

  And with that, he leans in to kiss me. And I know that, perhaps, even though I'm on the other side of the world, the best thing that I left behind has just caught up with me.

  BILLIONAIRE STEPBROTHER

  PART ONE

  Chapter One

  My heart is pounding so damn hard I think it might just explode.

  I fidget excessively, not quite knowing what to do with my hands and arms, not knowing whether to sit comfortably and wait, or stand at the door, spying the corridor outside through the peep hole.

  I obsessively check my cell for the time, watching time slow down to a trickle as I nervously, anxiously await my guest.

  I'm in a hotel room in Manhattan. Nothing particularly expensive, but not cheap either. The guy I'm meant to meet, thankfully, told me he'd be happy to pay for it.

  Of course, that made me feel even more cheap, but given my current financial state I was only too happy to accept.

  Vince. That's what he called himself on his online profile. Nothing more than that. No surname, no real details of what he does or anything else beyond a first name and a series of unforgettable photographs.

  And wow...those photographs. They're the reason I'm here. I mean, he had to be something truly special to get me into this situation, standing in a hotel room, waiting for a guy I've never actually met to come and fuck me.

  If I described all of this to a person who didn't know me they'd think I was an absolute, bona fide slut. But that's not true, at least it's never been true until now.

  The more pertinent point is that I haven't had sex for two years and, well, I'm in serious need of some. Something completely non committal. A single night of well earned passion without any strings attached.

  I keep fidgeting, going in circles round the room, intermittently checking through the peep hole to see if he's coming.

  Nothing...

  He's late. Over 20 minutes late, and I'm starting to think that this is some massive wind up.

  There's a mirror up on the wall above an ornamental fireplace that I continue to check my look in. I'm wearing a light summer dress, and some frilly lingerie underneath. It's what he'd suggested – ordered almost – during our brief online correspondence.

  Frankly, with those pictures, I wasn't going to deny him that. To fuck a guy that hot, I'd dress up like Batman if he wanted me to.

  My hair is blonde, straight, and long. Not peroxide blonde like some bimbo barbie doll. More of an earthy blonde, a more natural tone. It goes well with my blue eyes which carry a hint of green in them if you look close enough.

  From his pictures I know that he's largely the opposite of me. I'm short, only 5'4'', and he's tall. His profile said 6'2'', and that looks about right from his pics.

  I'm blonde, and he's dark. Not ethnically dark or anything, just dark, brooding features. Dusty brown hair, deep chestnut eyes, a skin tone that speaks of plenty of time spent under the sun.

  He looks athletic, too. Strong build, but not overly developed like a football player. More like a swimmer, one of those sprint swimmers who look like they're carved from rock, with long arms and lengthy, ripped torsos.

  I quickly pull out my cell and look at the pics again, which I'd taken the liberty of saving to a special file marked 'Vince.”

  I swoon, and feel my thighs burn, and remind myself that, yes, this is actually a good idea. I mean, the guy might be a total jackass, but I don't care if he is. This is only going to be about sex. Nothing more. No second dates, no matter how good he is.

  It's all just one night...

  Well, if he ever turns up, that is.

  I continue pacing, checking my look in the mirror, looking at the time as the minutes tick by. If he doesn't turn up, not only will that leave me completely sexually frustrated – a state I've occupied for some time now – but I'll have to pay for the room too, something he'd assured me he'd be able to do.

  A double dose of disappointment, and not exactly what I need right now in the state my life is in. Basically, the nutshell version of that is that I'm currently jobless, about to be homeless, and have little to no prospects currently on the horizon.

  That was my damn fault for doing a stupid arts major in college. Not exactly the most forward thinking thing I've ever done.

  Jeez, where is he?

  It's been half an hour now, and still no sign. I mean, the pictures I sent him were pretty good I thought. Surely he's not having second thoughts? I even took one of me topless just to give him a bit more to think about. With perfect lighting, that picture really accentuated my breasts nicely. Well, at least that's what I thought.

  For the next ten minutes, my mind turns to the likelihood that this just isn't going to happen. With that thought starting to dominate, I feel my heart losing its pace behind my ribs, my body coming to terms with the fact that I'll be spending the night alone in this hotel room.

  So, I begin thinking of a contingency. I'm here now, so might as well make the most of it.

  I take a seat on the bed, my sexual frustration building to bursting point, and quickly realize that the only way of solving that issue is by enjoying a bit of self administered pleasure.

  In my bag is a special toy for that purpose, my trusty ally in times of need who's got me off more than any guy ever has. I lift the vibrator from my bag, hitch one leg up onto the bed, and begin slowly probing around the edge of my vagina.

  The effect is immediate, the pink vibrator quickly getting to the heart of the matter and massaging my cli
t in its own very special way.

  Within a few minutes, I've begun slipping it inside me, my lips growing wet as I prod and probe.

  I even let out a few moans, lie back, and imagine that it's a dick, tongue or finger that's doing the job, and not this man made contraption designed for those who don't get laid enough.

  That describes me nicely. I'm the perfect target audience of the dildo...

  Just when I'm about to step it up a level and start launching myself toward yet another self induced orgasm, there's a loud knock at the door.

  I freeze, my hand seizing, and quickly drop the vibrator to the floor in my panic.

  Without thinking, I call out, my voice cracking and nervous.

  “Who is it?”

  “It's Vince,” comes the immediate reply.

  My heart threatens to explode once more, hammering so hard I swear I can feel it pushing against my ribs. I jump to my feet, hide the vibrator in my bag, pull my panties back into place, and let my dress fall down. A quick check in the mirror tells me I'm sufficiently straightened out to open the door.

  Before I do, I hold my breath, look through the peep hole, and pray that he looks even remotely close to his pictures. Pray that they weren't taken 10 years ago or he'd gone and lost 3 teeth and developed a beer gut since then.

  Thank fucking God...

  Through the hole in the door stands Vince, tall as expected, dark as expected, and potentially even more delectable in the flesh. He's even grown a light blanket of stubble over his cheeks and chin that makes him look just that little bit more rugged.

  As I watch, I see his reach forward, his arm slipping out of a leather jacket, and knock again.

  “You gonna let me in or what?”

  Somehow, he doesn't seem overly pleased to be left waiting out there, even if it's only for the shortest of moments.

  Well he can fuck off, he's kept me waiting here for nearly an hour.

  I open the door, and see his full form for the first time. Leather jacket draped comfortably over his wide shoulders, white vest beneath that hangs low and displays the curve of his pecs below his collar bone.