TYCOON_His Money. His Harley. His Control.

by Maggie Carpenter

  She explained the challenges of being an author, trying to learn marketing, copywriting, formatting and cover design, and so many other skills needed to self-publish. When they finally ambled up to bed, she nestled against him, and Pete curled up at the foot of the bed. They'd barely rested their heads on the pillow before they were drifting off to sleep.

  The warm memory was floating around her as she rolled over for a morning cuddle. Finding the bed empty, she let out a disappointed groan.

  "I'm glad you're awake. I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."

  Looking up she saw him standing beside the bed dressed in a dark grey, beautifully tailored, three-piece suit.

  "Who are you, and what have you done with my biker?"

  "Sorry, this is the stuffed shirt businessman you didn't want to meet."

  "Hang on a second," she muttered, running a hand over her face and sitting up. "Damn. If I'd known you looked like this I would've been in that hospital room faster than Pete can chase a squirrel."

  "That's pretty fast," he chuckled. "My car will be here shortly," he continued, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I must take my leave."

  "That's just not fair. What about Pete?"

  "Pete comes to the office with me."

  "Lucky dog," she mumbled, then tilting her head to the side, she broke into a mischievous grin. "Mason…"

  "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

  "You really do look incredibly sexy."

  "I'm sorry, Mary, Mary, as much as I'd love to ravage you, I have to go."

  "Um…about that homework you gave me, making notes from The Biker Who Spanked Me," she said coyly, "What if I was to tell you there's a scene in another book? Something I've never done but would absolutely love to."

  "I'd say, tell me more, except Herman will be here any minute."

  "Herman?"

  "My driver."

  "Never mind then," she said airily. "If you're not interested…"

  "Oh, no you don't. Tell me which book and which chapter. I'll read it today."

  "I'll do better than that, I'll email it to you, but l can tell you this much. It involves a billionaire dressed in a three-piece suit, and takes place in an office after everyone has left."

  "Say no more," he said with a wicked grin. "At precisely five-thirty this evening, a town car will arrive at your door and transport you to my building."

  "Really? Oh, my gosh! But if no-one's there how will I find you?"

  "The guard will let you into my private elevator. When you get out turn left. You'll see the double doors with my name on them. Just come on in. Your fantasy will be waiting."

  "I'm so excited," she whispered, kneeling up and extending her arms. "Please hold me for a second. I'm so happy I can't stand it."

  As he hugged her, she rested her head against the soft wool fabric of his suit and let out a long, contented sigh.

  "Is this an amazing dream?"

  "If it is, I'm dreaming it too, and it's the best dream I've ever had, but I have to wake up," he said, breaking their hug. "Make sure you dress nice. After our playtime we'll go to Giovanni's."

  "That sounds great. There's only one problem. How will I get through the day?"

  "You'll write."

  "That's exactly what I'll do, but Mason, you don't leave Pete alone in the office when you go out for dinner, do you?"

  "He hangs out with Herman. Sometimes they go for a walk, or he sleeps on the front seat while Herman reads. You don't have to worry about Pete. When I die I want to come back and have his life, but I love that you worry about him."

  "Where is he?"

  "Downstairs waiting. He knows the drill. Make yourself at home. Explore if you want. There's plenty to eat in the kitchen, and when you leave the gates will open automatically. The button for the garage door is against the wall when you walk in. You can't miss it. Bye, Mary, Mary," he finished, leaning down and giving her a quick kiss.

  "Bye, Mason. Have a super day."

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Carrying an innocent-looking shopping bag, George entered his workspace adjacent to Mason's office. Shoving it under his desk, he sat down and powered up his computer. An enigmatic smile crossed his lips. When he left, the bag would be filled with cash from Mason's safe.

  His adrenalin was already kicking in. He loved the feeling, but it was hours before the action would start. He needed to keep his cool. He prided himself on his brilliant schemes, and the great escape was one of his best. He'd used it before. It was simple, and simple meant less chance of things going wrong.

  Early that morning, he'd packed up his new car, filled it with gas, and left it in an all day parking garage.

  After everyone had left, and he'd forced Mason to open his safe and hand over the money, he'd leave him tied up and locked in his office, then drive his sleek black Mercedes to a crime-ridden part of town. He'd leave the key in the ignition, and his phone turned on hidden underneath a floor mat in the back seat. Catching a bus to the all day parking garage, he'd pick up his new vehicle, a nondescript blue compact, and drive off into the sunset.

  When Mason was finally found, the cops would zero in the cell phone in the dumped car. While they were on a wild goose chase, George would be cruising to freedom. Not only would he be untraceable, he'd be nailing Meeks at the same time. When the cops finally found his cellphone, they'd be privy to all the incriminating texts and voicemails between the two of them.

  "Morning, George. You look like the Cheshire cat."

  Lost in his thoughts, George jumped, darting his eyes up at Mason standing directly in front of him.

  "Uh, sorry, Mason. I didn't hear you come in. I was thinking about my weekend."

  "That good?"

  "Busy, just busy."

  "I think it will be a busy week as well. Bring me in a coffee and a muffin, please."

  "Right away," he replied, but as Mason walked away, he mumbled, "You just wait, Mr. High and Mighty, in a few hours you'll be running around after me."

  Walking into the small kitchen alcove, he brewed the coffee and heated up the bran muffin. He was edgy. It was unlike him. He wasn't worried about Mason, he was worried about Meeks. The man wasn't to be crossed, and he was crossing him.

  "He'll be in a cell while I'm dying my hair in a motel miles away," he reminded himself. "I just have to stay focused."

  Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he placed the muffin on a plate, picked up the mug, and carried them into Mason's office. As he entered he saw Mason staring at his computer wearing a very wide smile. It was a rare sight. Mason's forehead was usually furrowed in deep concentration.

  "Good news?" George asked, depositing the coffee and muffin on the desk. "I don't think I've ever seen you grin like that first thing in the morning."

  "Yes, it is," Mason replied without lifting his eyes.

  "How is Mr. Cochrin doing?"

  "Extremely well. He's making a quick recovery."

  "That's a relief."

  "I have some good news for you too," Mason said, turning to face him. "You don't need to stay late tonight. You can take off with everyone else at five-thirty. Now that I think about it, you can leave early, say around five. There are some personal things I need to take care of and I won't be needing you."

  "Sorry?" George said, feeling a shard of panic. "I'm happy to stay."

  "Thank you, George, but not tonight."

  "You're sure I can't help you?"

  "No, but I'll probably be playing catch up tomorrow, so you can count on some overtime then."

  Telling himself to stay calm, George headed back to his desk. This was a curve ball he hadn't seen coming.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Returning to her modest home shortly after Mason left, Mary immediately opened up her laptop and emailed him the scene from The Billionaire's Caper. Making herself a cup of tea as she anxiously waited for his response, she settled on the couch and stared at her inbox. When his reply popped up on her screen, she broke int
o a happy smile.

  Dearest Mary, Mary:

  You're such a naughty girl, but I love it, and I love what you've written. You didn't describe what your heroine was wearing, except to say she was sans panties, so you will dress as follows. Black garter belt, stockings and heels. Black skirt and jacket, white blouse, no bra. Hair up in a conservative style. Bring your cosmetics bag. Any makeup you're wearing will be smudged by the time we're ready to leave for dinner.

  Can't wait,

  Mason

  Her butterflies fluttered, and she closed her eyes and thought back to the thrilling episode the day before. Suddenly inspired, she opened the book she was working on and began to type. It was another in her bad boy motorcycle series. She began to describe Mason in his leathers, and the salacious scene came alive.

  It led to the next chapter, and the next. The hours flew by, interrupted only by cups of tea and pieces of toast. When she finally closed her computer, she was aching to lie on her bed and send her fingers between her legs. But she fought the temptation, deciding instead to tell Mason when she saw him. She could easily imagine the wicked grin she'd get in return. Letting out a happy sigh, she stood up and stretched her limbs. With only an hour to get ready she hurried into the bathroom.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  After a great deal of thought, George realized his only option was to leave early as Mason had requested, then sneak back into the building and use the service elevator. He was about to head out when Mason walked from his office with Pete on his leash.

  "George! You're still here," Mason exclaimed.

  "I have plenty to do if you've changed your mind. I'm happy to stick around."

  "No, thanks. I'm taking Pete for a short walk, but you don't need to lock up. I won't be long."

  "Then I'll just finish up this last email and take off. See you tomorrow."

  As Mason strode into the hall, George had an inspired thought. Everybody else had left. He could hide in the men's bathroom, or even a nearby office. The minute Mason returned the plan would swing into action, then he'd get the hell out.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Mason had called Tom and directed him to shut down the spy cams and listening devices for the evening, but the security chief was concerned. He'd watched Mason telling George to leave before taking Pete for his walk, but George dallied, then wandered into the hallway. Tom was about to call Mason and tell him when the young man reappeared, picked up his jacket and walked out. Satisfied, Tom switched off the equipment and left his office.

  "Have a good night, Bart," he said to the brawny man behind the desk in the front area. "The boss wants privacy, so stay clear of his suite."

  "Will do, boss. See you in the morning."

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Striding down the bustling city street with Pete at his side, Mason decided to check in with Mary. The car was due to arrive at her house.

  "Hi, Mason," she said, answering with a breathy voice. "Where are you? What's all that noise?"

  "I'm walking Pete. Are you almost ready? The car should be there any minute."

  "No, I've decided to keep you waiting."

  "I see. In that kind of mood, are we? Are you sure you want to push the envelope? You do realize you'll be over my knee very soon."

  "No, I hadn't forgotten that minor detail."

  "Minor detail? Mary, Mary, you are in for a very hot seat."

  "Talk about perfect timing. Your driver just knocked on my door."

  "Then I'll see you shortly."

  "Yes you will."

  Quickly returning to his building, he told the guard he was expecting a visitor by the name of Mary Austen, and she was to be escorted to the private elevator. As he stepped inside and rode it up, he could feel his cock stirring. She would arrive posing as a straight-laced lawyer secretly in love with the billionaire for whom she works. What she'd sent him had been the basics of the plot, and a snippet from the scene. He couldn't wait to play it out.

  After hearing he'd kissed secretary, she storms into his office, and filled with jealousy, she threatens to blackmail him. He quickly puts her over his lap, but when he pulls up her skirt and finds her wearing no underwear, his anger turns to lust. After a vigorous spanking, she ends up showing her devotion by dropping on her knees and taking his rampant cock into her mouth, thus beginning a passionate office romance.

  Grinning as he left the elevator, he continued down the hall, walked into his suite and passed George's empty desk. Entering his office, he pulled off his coat and released Pete from his leash, then wandered across to the window and stared out at the city. It was only a moment later he heard the outer door close. He knew it couldn't be Mary, it was too soon, and turning around he saw George walking in carrying a shopping bag.

  Whether it was the look on George's face, the swagger in his step, or sheer instinct, Mason immediately sensed danger.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Several thoughts flashed through Mason's mind.

  Mary was about to arrive.

  The cameras were off.

  He was on his own.

  He was twice the size of George and could easily take him, but he wasn't about to do anything that could endanger Pete.

  "I assume you forgot something?" Mason said crisply. "I'm expecting a visitor any minute. You need to leave."

  "When?" George asked, crouching down and pulling a dog treat from his pocket.

  "Any moment now. It's a private matter and…George! Are you listening?"

  "Here, Pete, come and get a treat," George said, ignoring Mason.

  Trying not to panic, George shifted his position so his back was to Mason, and Pete was hidden from view. As Pete ate his treat, George reached into the shopping bag and retrieved a nylon rope with a slipknot loop at the end.

  "George! Leave Pete alone and tell me why you're here!"

  Placing the rope around Pete's neck, George quickly straightened up, then turning to face Mason, he smiled an evil smile.

  "Two opponents," he exclaimed. "Tell me, Mason, what gives one the advantage? Don't know the answer? I'll tell you, shall I, Mr. Know-It-All? The element of surprise!" he exclaimed, triumphantly holding up the rope. "Doing something completely unexpected at a time and place that would never have been anticipated. That's how a person wins when the odds are stacked against him."

  "What the hell are you playing at?"

  "Do what I say," George replied, his voice suddenly menacing, "or I'll pull this fucking cord and strangle your fucking dog."

  Cold fear rippled through Mason's heart, but he found himself wondering if Meeks was behind the cruel threat, or if George was acting alone. He didn't know Meeks well, but it didn't seem like his style.

  "Tell me what you want," Mason said calmly "If Meeks sent you—"

  "Meeks? Fucking Meeks? No, you moron. Meeks is a fucking evil bastard."

  "You don't think threatening to strangle an innocent dog with a nylon cord is evil?"

  "Shut the fuck up. When the shit hits the fan I find a way to survive. Now do as I say and make it quick."

  "Sure, George, no problem," Mason replied, keeping his voice measured, "but you haven't told me what that is."

  "Go to your safe and take out all the cash, but if you take one step towards me, Pete suffers. Put the cash in this bag."

  As George was tossing the bag over to Mason, Mary was exiting the elevator.

  While Mason was opening his safe, she was walking into George's workspace.

  As she was about to enter Mason's office, she heard something that made her heart stop.

  "Hurry up, and don't pull any smart shit or Pete gets the life choked out of him."

  Hearing the horrifying threat, she frantically searched for a way to get Pete out of danger. Calling the police wasn't an option, they'd take too long to arrive, but what could she do? Heart thumping and filled with fear, she crept forward and peeked around the door. She could see the back of a slightly built man holding a cord that had been looped around Pete's ne
ck. Mason was on the other side of the office taking wads of cash from a wall safe and placing it in a bag.

  The sight of the paper sack triggered an idea!

  "Can I risk it?" she breathed. "I have to. I have no choice!"

  George was beginning to sweat. He needed to get out before Mason's visitor arrived, and though Mason was still filling the bag, George decided he needed to bolt.

  "That's enough! Toss it over here."

  "We do this at the same time. You hand me the cord. I hand you the bag."

  "Fuck that shit. You don't come within three feet of me."

  Mason had been folding the top of the paper bag so the cash wouldn't fall out, but as he straightened up, a deep frown crossed his face.

  "Apparently it's a moot point," he said solemnly.

  "What the fuck are you talking about? Toss it to me. Toss it to me right this fucking minute."

  "FBI!" Mary proclaimed, her voice authoritative and terse. "I have a gun pointed at your back. Drop the rope and place your hands in the air."

  George froze.

  "NOW!"

  Though seized with gut-churning panic, he turned his head to the side and darted his eyes behind him. A woman dressed in a black power suit was holding a gun aimed directly at him. Heart racing, he dropped the cord and threw his arms in the air. Pete immediately scampered towards Mason.

  "Hit the floor, arms out, legs spread," Mary commanded. "Mr. Abbott, collect the animal, place him in the outer office, then come back in here. Bring the rope with you."

  "Who the fuck are you?" George squeaked. "What's going on?"

  "Special Agent Briggs, White Collar Crime," she declared. "Mr. Abbott, please do as I ask."