Charmed by the Billionaire

by Jessica Lemmon

  Reality is a world away from where we were an hour ago, shucking our clothes and our inhibitions and talking about the things you talk about when you’re lying skin to skin with someone you care for very much. Caring for her was never up for debate. I adore her. But there’s something different about the way I care about her since we started sleeping together.

  When I propositioned her, I told her, as well as myself, that it was just sex and I was providing a service. Once she gave me the go-ahead, I dove in tongue-first, content to give her everything she wanted out of her first time. Her third. Her tenth.

  I sit at my desk, frowning at the screensaver on my laptop—photos of me with Nate and Archer on a golf course. One of William and me shaking hands after I accepted my high school diploma. Another of me kissing Lainey on the cheek on her birthday while she holds a giant bouquet of flowers.

  Cris’s musical laugh from the other room slices me open and reveals the ugly parts I’ve been trying to keep hidden for decades. I haven’t successfully relegated what we’re doing to “just sex.” I can’t categorize what she means to me as “just” anything.

  When this ends and she’s here every day, clothed, and not kissing me by the coffee pot or flirting with me when she strolls by my desk, how the hell am I going to handle it? Before we had sex, I thought we could chalk it up to fun and move on. Now, though… Knowing what I know…

  How the hell am I going to let her go?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Cris

  I’m at Club Nine, Archer’s nightclub, for Nate and Vivian’s engagement party, toddling along in a pair of borrowed shoes—one of the many pairs of Christian Louboutins Vivian owns. I’m doing my best not to resemble a newborn foal on shaky knees attempting to stand for the first time. Apropos, considering I’m navigating new territory tonight.

  “How do you walk in these things?” I ask as Vivian and I come to a stop at the bar. I rest my hand on the surface, relieved to have something to lean on. My toes hurt. Like, every one of them.

  “It’s all in the calves,” fabulous Vivian answers. “Takes quite a bit of willpower too. You don’t want to think about it too much. Actually, it’s a really good practice in mindfulness.” She says it so sincerely I can’t help laughing.

  “It’s sweet of Archer to throw you guys an engagement bash.” Especially since he shut down the club to do it. I can’t imagine how much money he’s losing by closing the doors on a Saturday night. Nate mentioned the high demand to book the VIP room for next weekend. Archer evidently knows what he’s doing. He made his club more in demand by closing it to the public for one night. He does things his way and doesn’t apologize for it. It’s admirable.

  That said, I also noted how happy he looked when Nate thanked him during a quick speech after everyone arrived. Archer has a head for business, but he’s not only business. He loves his family and would do anything for them.

  Benji and I arrived together, but I noticed a gap between us as we listened to Nate gush over his bride-to-be. Nate held Vivian’s hand, thumbed her engagement ring, and promised to love her for eternity. My romance-loving heart did cartwheels.

  There’s nothing official left on the agenda for this evening. Nothing to do but drink, dance, and be merry. Common for an Owen get-together, but my being here with Benji is new.

  As in with Benji. As in I’m his date. He said he was sick of pretending nothing was going on. That if anyone could understand why he and I were here together, it was Will and Lainey. So, we entered the club holding hands. It felt like a finale of a romantic comedy. My arm in his, a frozen smile on my face, as I worried about what the world would think.

  His dad was polite and nonchalant. Lainey pulled me into a side hug while giving Benji a “we’ll talk later” look.

  “There he is!” Vivian exclaims. I jump, startled by her outburst. She rushes from the bar to embrace her younger brother, Walt, and crushes him into a bear hug.

  It wasn’t long ago Walt showed up on her doorstep, preceded by an urn full of their father’s ashes, no less. He’s a recovering alcoholic. Viv says he’s doing well working for Nate and living in the Windy City. The pretty, tattooed brunette on Walt’s arm must be the woman he vowed to marry. Vivian has mentioned her. I can’t remember her name, but I know her own lapse with addiction landed her back in her home state of Georgia for a stint.

  Vivian leads them over, her holding Walt’s hand, his other hand in the tattooed woman’s hand. When they’re close, Viv gestures to her brother. “You remember Walt.”

  “Of course. How are you?”

  “Hi, Cris.” He has a big smile and an angular face. He looks well. “This is my girlfriend, Dee.”

  “I love your curly hair.” Dee is as wide-eyed as I was the first time I was steeped in Owen wealth. Walt appears less impressed, I assume because he came from Steele money.

  “This place is amazing!” she calls over the music. “Are you Archer’s girlfriend?”

  I open my mouth to correct her assumption when someone else does it for me.

  “Hell no,” the slightly possessive voice behind me affirms one second before a strong arm wraps around my waist. Benji tugs me to his side. “She’s too classy to hang out with the likes of Archer.”

  “How’s it going?” Walt asks before shaking Benji’s hand.

  “Good, Walt. You?”

  “Good.” Walt doesn’t answer like it’s a passing thought. He holds Benji’s gaze and nods while folding his hand into Dee’s once again. “Really good.”

  Aww. I’m such a sucker for a happily ever after. I hope they find theirs.

  “I’m going to show them around and introduce them to a few very important people, namely my future in-laws.” Vivian’s smile is contagious.

  “Go, go. Benji can look after me.” And keep me from falling on my ass when I attempt to walk in these shoes again. I hold on to him for purchase just in case.

  Vivian, Walt, and Dee walk through the club. Nate intercepts them and reclaims his future bride. He bends to kiss her before he shakes Walt’s hand and kisses Dee on the cheek.

  “Was that a deep sigh of longing I heard?” Benji murmurs into my ear.

  Busted. “I was standing in this club, at this very bar, when I asked Vivian to indulge me with stories of her and Nate. I’m a sucker for romance.”

  “You never told me that.”

  I blush. I can feel my face flame. I glance down at my borrowed shoes before tracking my gaze up his black jeans and black T-shirt and finally land on his eyes. He looks amazing. With all his thick, dark, perfectly styled hair and shoes that cost even more than the ones I borrowed this evening.

  “Why would I tell you?” I ask, not knowing what else to say.

  “What do you mean?” His smile is intact, but he doesn’t sound happy. “We talk about all sorts of things.”

  “I know.” We argue rarely, if ever. Tonight isn’t the time or the place to have a spat. I wrap my arms around his neck, which admittedly feels strange knowing his family could be watching, and distract him the best way I know how. I lean in and kiss his mouth. His hands cup my hips, which I’ve draped in a classy black dress. It’s new. And so is what’s underneath it. I have a surprise for him tonight.

  “Maybe we should sneak out early and have our own private party.” Climbing to my tiptoes, I place another kiss on the center of his mouth. “Wait’ll you see what I’m wearing under this dress.”

  “You can’t keep me chained to the bed, Cris. You have to take me out and show me a good time on occasion. I’m starting to feel used.” Despite the complaint, he lingers over my lips for a lengthy kiss. “How about a drink?”

  Once a short glass of scotch is in front of him and a tall glass of chardonnay is in front of me, he gives me a look I can’t classify. His smile seems to be hiding something.

  I take a fortifying sip from my wineglass. “What’s on your mind, Benjamin Owen?”

  “I’m glad you asked.” He glances around the club before sipping hi
s scotch and then pinning me into place with his gaze. “I’ve been thinking.”

  “About what I’m wearing under this dress?” I lean in, giving him full view of my cleavage revealed by the low cut of the bodice. I’m almost desperate for him to keep things light, but I can tell by the serious set of his eyebrows he’s not going to.

  “About us. About what we’re doing.”

  A chill skates over my skin. I knew this conversation was coming. And I knew he would be the one to start it. “What we’re doing” was always going to end. I knew from the beginning, and I knew no matter when it ended, the end would come too soon for me.

  If there’s one thing I know for sure about my best friend, it’s that he ends relationships before they become too close. I’m well-prepared for this moment. Sure, I might have accidentally fallen in love with him, but I’m a grown woman. I can handle whatever he’s about to tell me. Though an engagement party is a particularly bad place to break up with me, maybe sooner than later is best. I ignore the cracking sound of my heart and give him a smile, telling myself I’m ready. Then I betray my own sound and steady advice and try to postpone his announcement.

  “Why don’t we wait until we’re somewhere private to talk?” I hold up a hand like a stop sign. He touches his palm to mine and weaves our fingers together. Then he rests his elbow on the bar and we sit there, hands intertwined, eyes on each other.

  “I don’t want to wait any longer to say this, so it’s going to have to happen here. In the midst of this noise and my family.”

  I swallow thickly. He so…resolute. I nod and wait for the words I’ve been expecting since the night he made me the craziest offer of my life. I take a hearty drink from my glass, awkwardly maneuvering around our joined hands to set it aside on the bar.

  “I’m ready,” I say, but I’m not.

  “Let’s keep doing this.”

  “Holding hands?” I frown, confused.

  “This. Us. It’s working. You like it. I like it.”

  True story. I do like it. But that’s not what I thought he was going to say.

  “Uh… Until when?”

  “Why set an end date?” He shrugs. “Why not keep…” He grins and waggles our hands. “Doing what we’re doing until we stop liking it?”

  So many reasons. The primary one being my heart and how every other beat has Benji’s name tattooed on it.

  “My family likes you. They like seeing us together.”

  I’m still not sure how to respond. I didn’t expect a proclamation of love, but him pointing out how well-received we are as a couple is somewhat hope-dashing in light of the intense feelings I have for him.

  “People like what’s familiar.” That was my careful way of not agreeing or disagreeing.

  “We’re more than familiar. We’re good together.”

  “Maybe so, but—”

  “Definitely so.”

  “Okay, definitely so.” My mouth is suddenly dry. I lick my lips. “We both know there is an expiration date coming, and to pretend differently is…unwise.”

  “Why?” His terse question has a knife’s edge.

  “Why?” I laugh the word. I don’t want to do this, and I especially don’t want to do this now, but he hasn’t left me much choice. “Benji, when are you going to throw a party like this one?”

  His eyes sweep the room as a perplexed expression takes over his handsome features. “A private party at Archer’s club? Whenever. What kind of party do you want to have?”

  Oh, Benji. I sigh as I untangle my fingers from his. I pray the smile on my face will gentle the blow of my words. “I’m talking about an engagement party. To the woman you’re going to marry.”

  His head snaps back. He’s no longer perplexed. He’s alarmed. “Never, if I’m lucky.” He blinks, then his shoulders sag a bit. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on having an engagement party here in the future. That would be weird for everyone.”

  “What are you—?” Then it dawns on me what he means. “How could I be engaged? As long as I’m spending time with you, I won’t find anyone else to marry. And you are never getting married. I’ve heard you say so yourself on many, many occasions. Marriage and children aren’t in your future.” Not only has he said that to me, but I have also overheard some form of that argument come out of his mouth when he’s talking to one of his brothers.

  “It’s settled then,” he says, and I chuckle again.

  “Nothing is settled.” I break it to him gently. “I am going to be married one day. And unlike my mother, who seems to think marriage is like having a birthday and she has to have one every year, I’m only doing it once.”

  His mouth slides to one side at my joke. But I’m not through yet.

  “I don’t hold it against you.” I knew the score from the beginning. What we have was supposed to be temporary. He can’t give me what I want—permanence, and I can’t give him what he wants—a shallow relationship with no end date. It was never going to work out. There is no happily ever after for us, unless you count our friendship. I’d die before I let anything happen to that. “Marriage is not for you, and that’s okay. But it’s also the reason we need to set an end date on what we’re doing. We can’t let your family expect us to be together for an extended period of time when there’s no future behind it.”

  What I don’t say is that most of the expectations that need managing are mine. I’m the one who needs to keep my hopes in check. It hasn’t been easy to give the man who has my friendship and my loyalty my body too. I have to be super careful not to toss my heart in with the pot. I’ve been double cautious not to tie the strings already connecting us into secure knots.

  “What are you saying?” His mouth pulls into a deeper frown. “That we’re breaking up tonight?”

  “What? No. I admit I thought that’s what you were going to say, and I wasn’t ready to hear it.”

  “You thought I was going to break up with you?” Now he looks hurt.

  “I’m not saying I’m in a hurry to end this.” I take both his hands in mine. “I just want to make sure you’ve thought this through?”

  It comes out like a question as I realize he hasn’t thought this through. He hasn’t considered who we are beyond moment to moment. He hasn’t thought about what happens when we attend future events as “just friends” once again. He hasn’t recited the explanation he’ll have to give to his family about why he has a date and she’s not me.

  “You should be thanking me,” I tell him. “I’m letting you off the hook. I am the ultimate having your cake and eating it too. And I’m so grateful. I have learned more from you than I’ve learned from anyone. I know exactly what to expect from a good man in the future. You taught me not to settle for less than the best.”

  As I’m talking, I cup one side of his face. My heart patters out an SOS. The big speech I’ve given both out loud and to myself a few times is kind of a crock.

  Not even kind of. It’s total crap.

  My lie hits me with the force of a closed fist. I close my eyes and swear I see stars. When I reopen them I’m lost in the golden brown of Benji’s stare. The truth is I never want this to end. Even though I’m sure about me marrying in the future. As sure as he is that he’s not. Even though the cleanest way out is to cut our losses. Even though everything I told him is ultimately what’s best for both of us, I don’t want any of it to happen.

  I love him too much to let him go. The idea of him with another woman is pure agony. I want to scream and beat his chest for asking to stay. I can’t stay. Not like this.

  If I do, I’ll grow to resent him, even while stripping out of my clothes and riding his cock for the relief we both seek. Or maybe because of that, since I’ll be falling deeper and deeper in love with him as he holds me at arm’s length. He’ll be embedded deep in my body, but he’ll never let me into his heart. Not all the way.

  There is also no way in hell he can know how I feel about him. His heart isn’t mine for the claiming, which sucks, but I won’t r
isk losing him entirely.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Benji

  If I haven’t mentioned it a time or three already, Cris is absolutely right.

  Her reminding me of our agreement at the beginning was brave and totally the right call. But she also agreed we didn’t have to stop sleeping together right away. Thank God. My idea of never having an end date was kind of crazy. I’m not sure what I was thinking when I made that suggestion.

  She’s going to want to move on with her life. I can’t monopolize her time indefinitely. Well, I can. Totally tempting given how I know I’ll feel when she’s with someone else, but shit. I’m not a total dick. What I am is a dedicated bachelor. Eventually she’ll meet a guy who’s not. Maybe have a few babies.

  I hate that. But she deserves to be happy.

  I’m half embarrassed to admit I was caught up in the emotions bleeding out of Nate as he worshipped Vivian at their engagement party. His proclamations weren’t made with sweat clinging to his forehead or with a shake of doubt in the hand holding the microphone. He was certain. How the hell does he do that? He’s so damn transparent it’s galling.

  During his speech, happy tears shined in Cris’s eyes. I wanted her hopeful smile to last forever. Then she admitted she was a romantic, and I started wondering why she never told me.

  And then I started considering the things I’ve been doing for her. Like the rose petals and artisanal donuts the night she gave me her virginity. The fancy Thai dinner before I whisked her into a hotel room to blow her mind once again. The day I packed her car with pink roses and carried her to bed after.

  Romance squared.

  So okay, I was caught up before the party, but the party definitely put me in the mindset to suggest we don’t stop. Nate’s speech to Vivian was really something. Not the words he said so much as the way he looked at her when he said them. Like he’d reached up and plucked her out of the sky. Or maybe like she’d fallen and he caught her.