The Billionaire’s Secret

CHAPTER 4

“I don’t know.” Esmeralda replied to Beckham and acted as if she was thinking with one hand resting on her chin. “Why should I?”

“Because…” Beckham smacked his lips. “Because you don’t have anyone else?”

She scoffed at his reply and sat down on the bar stool before her. “Don’t you think that’s a little boastful to say? Besides, how are you sure my date’s not already waiting for me inside?”

He chuckled in his baritone and dropped her cocktail glass on the counter, picking up his for a quick sip. “Well… I’m sure no gentleman can have you walk in alone. So let’s say if you actually had girl dates, you wouldn’t have come along with me.” He leaned to her slightly and she gasped when he spoke. “…and you would have gotten at least one call for your friends by now.”

“Funny,” she said and tried to regulate her heart beat while he pulled back with a mocking smirk. “So maybe I don’t have a date or a group of friends waiting for me. But… I planned to find one tonight.”

“Lucky you, then. You found me,” Beckham said and raised his glass to his lips for another sip while Esmeralda studied how his Adam’s apple moved at each gulp.

“Besides…” he said as soon as he put down the glass, causing her to remove her gaze. “I also need to prove to a certain someone and myself that I am still not grieving.”

“Grieving? What do you mean?”

“Let’s not talk about that tonight, shall we? I don’t know about you, but I was planning to have this one night where I don’t have to be… responsible.”

She smiled and looked at him. “It’s funny, but the same goes for me. I kind of always think about work or judgment or investigations. But tonight, I’ll prove to myself that I can go with the flow without questioning anything.”

“So,” Beckham turned to look at her. “Will you be my date or do you still want to ask me more questions?”

“Fine,” she smirked. “I’ll be your irresponsible date.”

“Then, let’s have a toast…” he said, handing her a glass.

She collected it and smiled at him. “Toast to what?”

“… To a fun, irresponsible night!”

“Yeah,” Esmeralda concurred. “To a fun, irresponsible night!”

******

Laughing, Esmeralda dropped her glass next to the two bottles on the table as she relaxed into the chair.

“Wait - so…” she turned to face Beckham, who was also sitting beside her. “How did you even recognize me in that mask?”

“You might not believe me, but… I didn’t know it was you until I came close,” he told her, and she chuckled in disbelief.

“So, you’re telling me that you would have intervened just the same if it were someone else?”

He turned to her and raised his mask to his head, revealing his honey-brown eyes. “Yes, I would’ve.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed amid another chuckle and mocked him off, but when she turned to look at his face, he wasn’t laughing.

“I’m serious,” he said to her in a deep, breathy voice, squinting his eyes slightly to show his genuineness.

Esmeralda stared at him, switching between his eyes and his thin lips before she released a breath and looked away, clearing her throat.

“So, you…” she tried to smile, peeking at his lips. “You actually have a heart deep, deep, deep down in there,”

“I guess I do,” he replied and laughed, sipping again from his glass before returning it to the stool and lying back on the chair. “But you know,” he called her attention. “I’m glad it was you.”

“Why?”

“Because I made a bet.”

She sneered and rolled her eyes in amusement before she asked him, “What bet?”

Resting on his elbow, he leaned on his side to completely face her. “I made a bet that I’d kiss the very first lady I spoke to this evening. And…” he raised his brow and beamed. “You’re the first.”

She cackled into a short, mocking laugh. “That can’t be right.”

“But it is…” he smirked sinisterly.

“I don’t believe you,” she said, and took another sip from her drink.

“Fine… But if it were, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Don’t you think?” His voice was deeper now, almost a growl, and she turned to look at him.

His eyes glowed in the moonlight, and his lips appeared perfect. Firm but supple.

She stopped her breath and asked, “Are you saying you want to…”

He smirked when she didn’t finish the sentence, catching her light gasp. “If I’ve been saying that you are the type of lady I can have s*x with…” he squinted his eyes and smirked, lowering his gruff, British voice into a dark whisper as he leaned even closer to her. “Doesn’t that mean I’d like to kiss you?”

Esmeralda choked on her breath and sighed, about to stutter.

“I’m saying I want to kiss you,” he told her, and she jeered at him.

“Isn’t that too direct? Most guys usually coat it.”

“Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but…” he leaned in and swept her hair strand to the side, pulling out her mask. “I’m not most guys.”

She gasped and felt her thighs tingle.

“So, what will it be?” he asked and looked into her eyes, dropping his gaze to her red lips, and she parted them hungrily for him.

Before she could say anything else, he pulled her in and kissed her.

And she moaned.

“This is super irresponsible, you know?” Esmeralda sighed and kissed him back.

“Yes,” he growled and pulled on her lower lip. “It is.”

He pressed against her chest, bringing her closer to him.

“You…” she gasped again while he went in for another kiss. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she said after another moan, lifting her hands to his neck and then down to his back.

“Yes, we shouldn’t,” Beckham growled and lifted his lips to her ear, biting her softly.

Esmeralda moaned again, and he felt his jeans tighten.

“But don’t stop.”

******

Beckham wakes up to the sound of his phone on his bed. Squinting and turning, he sits up and grunts, bringing his hand to his head as he releases a tired sigh.

“What happened last night?”

He takes his legs to the floor, still seated on his bed, as he tries to recall his fogged memory.

Images of Esmeralda moaning as he kissed her neck flashed in his mind and he smiled.

“That crazy girl,” he gruffed, and thought hard again. In another flash, he remembered her touching him, and he flinched, getting harder for her.

“You’re… hard,” she said and looked up at him with puckered lips from their long kiss.

“Maybe I didn’t before now, but I want you in the most sinful ways right now,” he had replied to her.

“Me too, but isn’t that wrong?”

“I thought we were supposed to be irresponsible this one time?” He said back to her and smiled, holding him more firmly than before, and he growled.

“Direct contact would be even better, don’t you think?”

“Ugh,” Beckham grunted and rubbed his neck while he remembered. “So, if we had s*x, how did I get here?” he murmured.

At that moment, his door slid open and a woman with golden-brown hair entered his room. She appeared to be in her late 30s, but with a perfectly botox-ed face and lifted wrinkles.

Her white jumpsuit with red shoes shone brightly into Beckham’s eyes as he rose up.

Walking up to his window, he showed his perfect rock-hard abs and a seducing pelvic V-line that disappeared into the towel around his waist.

“Morning. Gerta,” he started when her heels stopped feet behind him.

“Good morning, sir. I’m glad you’re awake. I bring you news.”

“Yeah, before the news,” he turned to face her. “You have any idea how I got here from the party last night?”

“You came home yourself, sir, after asking me to help return a lady.”

“Return a lady? What do you mean?” Beckham asked and drew closer to Gerta with interest.

“You called me at 2am to help drop off a woman who has been your date.”

“And where did you drop her off?”

“She asked the driver to stop mid-way. So, we are unsure where she went exactly.”

Beckham pivoted toward the window in disappointment before he spoke. “Find out who she is and where she lives. I must see her again.”

“Okay, sir… and…”

“Yes,” he faced Gerta, who had remained in a firm, frozen stance. “The news…what is it?”

“You might want to take a seat for this, sir,” Gerta said in a tone laced with concern.

“No, no. I’m okay. Just talk to me. What is it?”

“Okay then,” her voice became stricter and stern. “Missy Fitzergeld is dead.”