The billionaire's mysterious lady

Episode 13

My unspeakable parts seize up in desire as I stare into his eyes; they mean every single word he has just said. If I say no, I know he will pursue me until I’m too tired and defeated to fight anymore. In truth, I don’t want to say no, but if I say yes, I know he will break me more so than I already am.

His breath fans my heated face, and the way the strong flow washes over me, I feel his patience is wearing thin. His eyes smoulder with the same intensity that I’m currently experiencing coursing throughout my body with dominance.

His soft, parted lips are mere inches from mine. So close, in fact, all it would take is a small flick of my tongue…

Except, regardless of how much his statement has turned me on, I am verging on the edge of anger at his blunt presumption. The beautiful, arrogant bastard!

He honestly did think I was exactly like Maxwell who was an addict. That I would put out for in him every way possible, like the cheap w***e she claims not to be.

But who am I trying to convince, him or me? Honestly, I gave up on myself days ago. And despite how much I want to scream in his face, I can’t deny the feeling in my belly at hearing him say such innuendo-laced words to me. My body exudes liquid heat and screams at me to say yes. Telling me that it can just be one date…and s*x.

Sex, that I’ve never actually willingly participated in before.

Predictably, there is the hidden, feminine side of myself that desperately wants to finally feel something tangible. Irrespective of the fact I have denied myself the ability to form a relationship over the years, deep inside, it is still something I will always want, and typically, that is proving to be the governing voice inside my head. But sensibly, the smart, logical side of myself, tells me he already has a girlfriend, who is sitting just two rooms away. Not to mention the abundance of women who have approached him tonight. I’ve seen first-hand he is not the type of man to settle with one person. I might be judging him unfairly, but I can only go on what I have seen so far.

“What about your girlfriend?” I blurt out, hoping he doesn’t realise I am actually a tad bit jealous. His pupils dilate in surprise, recognition dawns on him, and his eyes fill with understanding.

“Are you jealous, Nelly?”

“No!” I spit out too quickly. And, yes, of course I’m bloody jealous! He’s insulting his own intelligence by even asking me that.

He grins at me in triumphant. “Nelly, she's not my girlfriend, she's my sister.” My mouth forms an O, and I shut it firmly. I can feel my cheeks tinge pink, and I feel utterly ridiculous. “So, now that we have cleared up that little misunderstanding – dinner with me.” His command is firm.

“No.” My reply is unconvincing.

“You have a short memory; I don’t hear that word very often. I must admit I don’t like it very much, either.”

“I don’t care, that’s not my problem!” I wriggle out of his grip, bend a little to slide my feet into my heels, and head towards the door.

“Oh, but you do care! I know for a fact that you do, because I can see it, I can feel it. I can smell it, Nelly. I can smell the way you react to me. The way your skin flushes and heats when I am close. The way your eyes light up. Now, stop being so frustrating and downright ridiculous, and have dinner with me. Please,” he says, allowing the word to linger in the air.

And so the wearing down commences.

I spin back around to him. I know he won’t let it go until I say yes, and the only card I have left to play is to let him have what he wants. Maybe then he will realise I’m not worthy of the chase, like the few that have tried before him. I’ve already mentally persuaded myself it will be just dinner, and possibly something else that scares the living s**t out of me. Honestly, I knew this would happen when I found that damn card in my pocket. Exhaling deeply, I say something that is completely out of character.

“Fine! I will have dinner with you, and that’s it!” He smiles like a Cheshire cat, and I am at risk of losing my sanity.

“I need to tell you where I-”

“I already know.” Of course, he knows where I live. How could I forget? A broad smile stretches across his face triumphantly again. I nod, and purse my lips together. I really didn’t stand a chance fighting against him, but I know it’s better this way, or at least I hope it is.

“Tomorrow night. eight o’clock.” He fills the space between us, takes my hand and brushes his lips over my knuckles. “What time do you finish tonight?” his voice is firmer now; controlled and powerful, causing all kinds of emotions to rush out from inside me.

I shrug my shoulders. I knew from past experience I would be finished whenever the last guests left, and we could clean away our equipment. “It depends; could be two hours, could be four,” I tell him honestly.

“Did you drive here?”

“Yes. And thank you, my car drives better than it has in years.” Watching his happiness gradually die, I know that was the wrong thing to say. He is visibly unimpressed with my gratitude. He presses his lips together and looks thoroughly pissed. He closes his eyes with a roll of his shoulders, but when he opens them again, the intensity has vanished, and he looks happy. He doesn’t reply, just grunts something incoherently.

He is one strange man.

No more words are spoken as he walks me back towards the main room. Pausing at the grand French doors, he turns me to face him. “Tomorrow night.” He bends down and swipes his lips over mine. His kiss is soft and light, but there is nothing innocent about it. I flush with headiness, secretly enjoying the throbbing in my core, as his tongue runs the seam of my mouth. Instinctively, I open to him without a second thought. His tongue swipes over mine - just once - then he cups my chin in both hands and reluctantly pulls out of the embrace. I mewl in protest, and drag my tongue over my bottom lip, savouring the last remnants of him.

I stare at him with new clarity. I’m a quivering, hot mess, realising I have just technically had my first real kiss. One that I didn’t want to stop. He grins, rubs his thumb over my bottom lip, and confidently makes his way back inside to his table.

The dining room is a lot quieter now, and it’s apparent many of the patrons have already departed for the evening. I watch Castro take the woman's hand - his sister's hand - and he leads her from the room. He stops at the main doors and looks over his shoulder at me, leaving me with a smile that makes my insides turn to mush. Even from this distance, unforbidden promise sparkles inside his dark pools.

I lean against the door where he has left me, confused and frustrated, wondering if I really have just made the right choice. And whether or not I could really go through with what he would be expecting of me.

“So, what did Mr Handsome want?” Nancy asks knowingly. How long has she been standing there? I leave her question unanswered. “Hmm, hmm, thought so. When?”

“Tomorrow,” I say quietly, never removing my eyes from his retreating form. Nancy moves in front of me, and I glare at her for blocking my impeccable view.

“You do know this was his event tonight?”

I shake my head. Now I just feel as sick as a dog.

“The rumour mill says that his mother suffered from domestic abuse, so he devotes a lot of time to it, and some rather substantial donations, apparently. He also owns…no, never mind. Come on, let's start cleaning up.”

Two hours later, with my feet filthy from being bare, I finally leave the empty ballroom. My head has been swimming in the aftermath of Castro’s kiss, and also from the revelation that the charity benefiting tonight's event was his - in respect of his mother, to be more precise.

I now realise when he made his comment the other night about caring, he meant it. True to his word, in my heart, I know he will never tell me no, and I know I will never have to beg him. More so, I believe him.

I also can’t seem to shake the feeling that I’ve met him before. The way he touches me is pacifying and more than familiar. It induces a calm that has never really been mine. Dropping my head, I remember the first time I was touched by a man. I quickly push it aside, and go off in search of Nancy.

After finally locating her to say my goodbyes, I collect my things from the staff room. Slipping my heels back on, my feet protest at the constriction. I seriously cannot wait to get back into my trainers.

Reaching my car, I kick off my shoes, and my feet rejoice when they slide comfortably into my battered old Converse. I sigh in happy relief, and toss my bag and jacket onto the passenger seat. Starting the engine, it doesn’t turn over. I slam my hand over the steering wheel in frustration. Checking my mirrors, I see a blue Mercedes parked a short distance away. I look at it ominously and instantly activate the locks. Now is not a good time to be broken down – I don’t even have cover.

“Please!” I beg, turning the key again. “Don't be a b***h, please!” I will it. On the second attempt, the engine roars to life, and I have renewed faith. Driving out of the car park slowly, I recheck my mirrors and notice the Mercedes trailing a couple of cars behind me. My anxiety starts to get the better of me, and I press the accelerator harder, defying the speed limit, and endangering myself due to the fear of God the car behind is instilling deep in my already damaged mind.

Arriving home, I dart out of the car and fumble with the lock on the communal entrance. The sound of a car slowing down and finally stopping, sends me into a full-fledged panic. I refuse to look back; somethings really are better not knowing about. I finally get the door open and race up to my flat, taking the stairs two at a time. The lift would have been quicker, but it isn't safer – not in my opinion.

Safe inside, I race to the living room window that overlooks the street, and the car is still sat there idling. I grab my mobile, letting it turn over and over in my hand, wondering if I should call the police. But what on earth would I tell them? That I had come home from a high society dinner with New York’s most elite and wealthy, and there’s an expensive Merc sat outside on the publicly adopted road? Or maybe I could say I’m worried they are trying to break in - best not to mention I’m on the fifth floor! I laugh out loud to myself, musing over what bullshit I could spout out if put to the test, when the mobile screen lights up and vibrates in my hand. Incoming text. I touch the screen to view it.

Tomorrow eight. I will pick you up since your driving skills leave a lot to be desired.

How the hell did he get my number?!

I look back out of the window at the blue Mercedes and shake my head. He followed me home. It begins to move away, and the red taillights eventually disappear into the darkness. I stand and stare at the vehicle until it is gone.

Until he is gone.