Under the Billionaire's Shelter: Billionaire and Single Mom Romance Collection With New Novel Included (Under Him Book 5)

by Jamie Knight

  “Oh, come on. It wasn't really love at first sight. We even went on a date before I started to solidify whatever feelings these are for him. Yeah, there were cameras, but I suspect he's used to that. It seemed like a regular romantic date to me, even if it was for TV.”

  “Yeah, but still, love? That’s never a great idea so early on. Look what’s happening now. I would suggest you just forget about him. It will be easier that way. Trust me.”

  She didn't exactly speak from experience, but that didn't stop Astrid from having a valid point. She could certainly be wise beyond her experience at times. Must be the kind of ancient, indefinable wisdom some people just seem to be born with, like prodigies of thought.

  I never saw it coming, but I guess I really should have. Apparently Adam was dropping me because I was a single mom. And Astrid was right – I just had to accept that fact and move on. I had no other choice.

  Freya dropped her crayon, climbed up into the couch and gave me her version of a big hug.

  “Mama sad?” she asked.

  “I’ll be okay, baby,” I said, hugging her back.

  At least I’m going to try my best to be.

  Chapter Seven - Adam

  The room was as empty as it had ever been. But my heart, it was quite full. It was full of warmth for the connection with another, and with love, even though logic and tradition would dictate it was too early.

  The peace came from knowing that love was still possible. After so many years spent with temporary flings or gold-diggers, I really felt I had found the one, as foolish as that might sound.

  In addition to the warmth of my heart, my skin felt as if it were on fire with a burning passion for Morgan and what we would soon be doing together. I was more excited than I had been in years.

  I guess I should have known something was wrong. I wasn’t quite to Jedi-level of sensing disturbance in the Force, nor did I possess a Peter-Parker-grade Spidey Sense, but I could more or less smell trouble coming from a good distance away. It was a skill one developed quickly when trouble became a way of life.

  That was why I had security. Sure, they doubled as drivers, but that really only made them more deadly, not less.

  Shonna pulled up in the limo, McQueen shades reflecting my own face back to me as she got out and opened the door.

  “Lookin’ good, Shonna,” I said, climbing into the back.

  “Sir,” Shonna said with a terse nod.

  It was a well-kept secret known only to myself, and any of the assorted gods who might be listening in at any particular moment, that I preferred my pets to call me Master. It was not as a power play as could easily be assumed, but because my staff insisted on calling me ‘sir.’ I wanted to separate business and pleasure as much as possible.

  ‘Sir’ was certainly a more traditional Dom title. Particularly for newer ones. Dom was a general description for a role and ‘sir’ an open term of respect. ‘Master’ meant something else. Not only that one was a mastery of one’s chosen kinks, but it was also sometimes an indication from the submissive that they had given themselves entirely to their Dom’s control. The Dom is the master of the submissive’s world. It is a very special and somewhat rare relationship that tends to be noted when it happens.

  I, of course, meant the term in the first sense, something with which few, particularly those who have been in my bedroom, would argue. It was similar to how one did not need to be a light of the realm or qualified and practicing lawyer to use the honorific ‘esquire,’ but it was also a term that can refer to an upstanding or respectable person. Neither of which I had ever been accused of, but still, the example held.

  I went to the production office. Images of Morgan’s beautiful form were playing in my head when the storms came in the form of a very down-looking production assistant who was literally staring at her feet.

  “Mr. Leary?” the assistant asked.

  “Yes, Sara?”

  “Y-you know my name?” she was startled.

  “Of course I do. You interned here last year, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. I didn’t think anyone ever listened to me.”

  “I do. What’s the problem?”

  “The producers, sir. They’ve called an emergency meeting. They wanted you there ten minutes ago.”

  “Oh, did they now?” I asked, the idea delighting me more than it should have.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Perfect.”

  I strolled to the elevators at a leisurely pace, doing a little jig on the way.

  They were all there. The entire den of scumbags, liars, and thieves, wallowing in their ill-gotten gains. They were still hilariously convinced that they had pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, despite their parents paying for literally everything from the moment they were born. Their jobs at the studio were the closest thing to honest toil they had ever experienced.

  The Armani suits dotted around the table were a physical form of psychological armor against the reality where sane people lived. I had seen it enough to recognize the signs.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  “Yes, please take a seat,” the king viper said, nodding toward an empty chair.

  “What's the trouble?” I asked.

  “It's nothing, really. There was just a bit of a problem with the woman you chose.”

  “Did she back out?” I asked, rather stunned by this revelation.

  “Oh, no, nothing like that. She just wasn't completely honest on her write up. Turns out she's a mom. We can't be catering to the whims of a child while shooting. So, if you could just tell us your second choice, we can get back on track.”

  “Did she say she didn't want to do it?” I asked.

  “Well, not exactly, but-”

  “Who made the call?” I asked, cutting off the king.

  “I did,” spoke up a particularly squirrelly, blow-dried specimen who had Junior Partner written all over him.

  I didn’t know his name and the company’s latent fascism hadn’t yet reached the level of personal ID cards.

  “What did she say?” I inquired.

  “Not much, honestly. I had just told her she had been chosen when I heard a kid calling out for her and figured it was hers. She confirmed and I told her the whole thing was off. As Mr. Murdoch said, we can’t be catering to some brat on a shoot,” the Junior Partner said, with the supreme confidence found only among the clueless and the clergy.

  “That’s not quite what I said,” the king corrected.

  “Get out,” I exclaimed.

  “What? You can’t-”

  “Do as he says, Bateman,” the king ordered the Junior Partner.

  “But-”

  “Pat,” the king warned, a fire burning in his eyes.

  With great tantrum, the junior associate huffed his way from the conference room, taking his 80s hair with him.

  “Listen, I’m sorry about Bateman. He hasn’t been here very long. If my sister hadn’t called me saying he needed a job, he would be in Hawaii right now, surfing all day. Got to keep the youth busy, right?”

  “It certainly helps, and there is no need to apologize. I get Morgan, and that’s that,” I decreed, pleasant as could be.

  “I’m afraid I can’t-”

  “Can’t what? Get it through your thick, thick skull and into your tiny, tiny brain that the show you asked me to be in is predicated on the use of property I privately own, and without me there is no show?” I asked, trying to blind him with the supreme power of logic.

  “It would be a breach of contract,” the king said smugly.

  “And what? You’ll sue me for all the money I wasn’t paid?” I asked.

  “Well, no, but I’m sure our lawyers could find something to go after, and I warn you. I can be like a honey badger when I’m riled. That’s why I sit in the big chair. If I come after you, it is going to hurt,” the king blustered.

  Taking out my trusty Moleskine, I twisted the cap from my most treasured fountain pen that once belonged to Noë
l Coward, and jotted something down. Tearing out the page, I scooted it over to the king, my years as table-hockey champion of the world coming into force.

  “$165 billion. What the hell is this?”

  “A gentle reminder of who it is you’re talking to,” I said, sliding the pen and notebook back into the pocket of my Italian leather jacket.

  I’d seen a lot of things in my life, but I had never seen a human face turn that color before. It looked like a balloon full of jam.

  Once I left the room, I dialed Morgan by muscle memory. It took three rings for her to pick up. She sounded like she had been crying. I suddenly felt even better about nearly making the king viper’s head explode.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Adam?”

  “Yeah, listen, I just found out what happened with the studio. That had nothing to do with me, and I set them straight.”

  “Y-you did?”

  “Absolutely. We shouldn’t have any more trouble with them. I made things very clear,”

  I said.

  “What did you do?” Morgan asked.

  “Just reminded them who owns the facility they would be shooting at. As well as the fact that I could buy their company ten times over at twice.”

  “Oh, wow,” Morgan said.

  “I’ll send a car for you. Do you have someone in mind you want to look after your little one while you are working, or should I arrange for a nanny?” I inquired, getting down to brass tacks.

  “I-I do. Have someone, I mean,” Morgan said, still not seeming to believe that it was all real.

  I could relate.

  “Great, I’ll see you at the airport.”

  The plane was one of the first things I’d bought with my first million. It didn’t cost all of that, partly because it was used. I saw no reason to waste money just because I had more money than most people would see in twenty lifetimes. In fact, it was all the more reason to try and use it to do some good in the world. God knew it was sorely needed.

  I had just settled into my leather seat when the electric white limo came onto the private air strip. Shonna, efficient as ever, got the three people and their bags out of the limo and into the plane in record time.

  “Thank you, Shonna.”

  “Sir,” she said with an instinctive salute.

  “She’s, um, intense,” observed Morgan’s companion, who I soon learned was named Astrid.

  “Intenth!” Morgan’s little girl, Freya, parroted.

  I made a mental note to watch what I said around her, even more than I normally would around a child.

  “She was in the military since the age of 17.”

  “They take them that young?”

  “If they fib. It’s a conscription system, anyway.

  “There’s no draft anymore,” Astrid said, as though I was a pitiable fool.

  “There was in Israel. They even conscript women for combat and leadership positions. She’s seen some things.”

  “Hence the shades?” Astrid skied.

  “Exactly.”

  “McQueens, right?” Morgan asked.

  “Well spotted.”

  The compound wasn’t very far. I had chosen the island partly for the easy commute as well as the natural wilderness that surrounded the property. It made it a bit difficult to put in the airstrip, but we had worked it out, managing to just squeak past the minimum requirement set for safety. Not that anyone would be coming out and checking, of course.

  There were exactly three people on the planet who knew the island’s exact coordinates, and one of them barely ever spoke. Still, it was better to be safe than dying in flaming agony, as the old saying goes.

  The car was at the bottom of the stairs when we got down. I had called from the plane to arrange it, as well as a few other things.

  I was glad that Morgan was soon to be all mine.

  Chapter Eight - Morgan

  Holy peanuts! The legends of this tech billionaire’s luxury compound out among the crashing waves of the pacific were true. More than that, I was going there.

  Adam hadn’t actually turned from a handsome prince to a hideous ogre, unlike the version of some fairy tale that young girls are always told. He really did want me there and actually had to fight the powers that be to make it happen.

  It felt wonderful to be so valued. Even better, I had the two people I cared about most in the world there with me. Both of them seemed to take the whole thing in stride.

  At least until we got close to the island. Then, Astrid let out her inner child. She squealed with excitement, glued to the window as the plane wafted down like a sheet of paper on the breeze.

  The car appeared as if by magic at the bottom of the stairs, ready to whisk us through the trees and on to the palace.

  “There’s a separate wing for Freya and Astrid,” Adam informed me. “They’ll have their own grounds. Other than for some trusted staff who live on the premises and isolate here, there is no interaction with the outside world. And everything has been sanitized. Don’t worry; it’s a completely safe place to be for the pandemic. All possible arrangements have been made.”

  “What arrangements?” Astrid asked, eyeing Adam suspiciously.

  “A personal chef, a gardener, a personal trainer, a pony with a riding instructor-”

  “Pony?” Astrid and Freya asked, with similar levels of excitement.

  “Quite. I would very much like for you to be happy here.”

  “You’re certainly off to a good start!” Astrid exclaimed before taking her new best friend in an attack hug.

  “Just go with it. She’ll tire herself out,” I said as Adam looked to me for advice regarding the young woman who had just attached herself to him.

  Arriving at the house, we got to the part I had been dreading, at least secretly, since I filled out the application.

  “Mommy has to go now, okay, Baby?” I told Freya. “You are going to stay here with Astrid. You can go for lots of walks in the woods and there’s even a pony to pet.”

  “Pony!” Freya said brightly.

  “That’s right, Baby. Just don’t be petting any more skunks, okay?”

  “Thkunk?” Freya asked.

  “The kitty with the big white stripe you met in the park.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  With a heavy heart, I handed Freya over to Astrid, who took her in her capable arms. I knew they would both be fine. But I would still miss both of them.

  “Bye-bye, Mama,” Freya said with a baby wave.

  “Bye-bye, Baby,” I said, returning the wave.

  “We’ll be fine,” Astrid said.

  “I know, thanks for doing this.”

  “Anytime.”

  Astrid and I hugged, awkwardly trying not to crush Freya in the process. I went to Adam, who was waiting patiently for me at a respectful distance.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  More than you know.

  We went to our own wing of the mansion, walking side by side. I thought Adam might try to touch me, maybe squeeze my ass or whatever. But he was very much a gentleman. I could practically feel the designee minting off him like heat from a campfire. Yet he kept his hands to himself.

  “Not until you sign the contract,” he said, as if reading my mind.

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  Once he had reached the dining room area of our wing, he handed it over to me.

  It was by far the single largest official document I had seen in my life, over twenty single spaced, double sided pages. Yet Adam sat there with me at his massive dining room table until I had read and consented to every item on every page. He was nothing if not thorough.

  When the agreement had been made and my consent secured, he handed me a pen. It was the most exquisite example of the form I had ever seen.

  “It’s gorgeous,” I said.

  “It was custom made for the playwright Noël Coward,” Adam said, a ring of pride in his voice.

  I tried to keep my hand from shaki
ng as I signed on the spot indicated. The fact that I was basically holding history was not helping much.

  “Stand up,” Adam ordered, returning the pen to his pocket.

  I obeyed a bit too vigorously, nearly thwacking my knees under the table. It wasn’t the best way to start, but if Adam noticed, he didn’t let on.

  He moved around me, stroking his hand down my back. I arched at his touch, unused to such intimate human contact. He moved to my head and softly stroked my head from the crown to the base of my braid.

  “Do you submit yourself to me?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Body and will?” he asked.

  “I-I do,” I replied.

  “Swear it.”

  “I swear that I submit myself to you in body and will,” I said, a thrill shuddering through me.

  “Good girl,” he whispered right into my ear as if he was going suck my earlobe.

  Not that I would have minded that at all.

  I heard the creak of the leather as he got something out of his pocket. I fetched the touch of raw leather on my delicate throat. I tried to see it, but it was no use. It felt like a choker necklace and there was some kind of gem in the front.

  “It’s black onyx. It is supposed to be good for balance,” Adam said, putting his hands on my shoulders.

  Turning me around as easily as I thought he might, he looked into my eyes while gently stroking a hand down my cheek.

  “You have signed the contract. You have been collared. You are my pet.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said, getting used to saying it.

  Caressing his hand down my arm, he took my own hand and led me out of the dining room. I thought he was going to take me to the bedroom to fuck me until I screamed. But it turned out to be a house tour so that I would know where everything was.

  I was actually quite grateful for it or I would have gotten lost for sure. It really was an astoundingly big house. There were even more rooms than it looked like from the outside. New corridors and stairwells seemed to appear out of cunningly hidden pocket dimensions like some kind of M.C. Escher painting in reverse.

  The most impressive parts of the house, aside from the secret archive and massive ballroom, were the library and master bathroom, with a whirlpool tub the size of my entire apartment in the middle of the room.