Because He Takes Me (Because He Owns Me, Book Two) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (6 page)

“He’s a man who works at one of the companies I
recently bought.
 
He’s desperate for
a meeting with me, even though he’s been told him that’s impossible.”

“Is he dangerous?”

Callum shrugged, as if that was of no
importance.
 
“That remains to be
seen.”
 
He set the seasoned meat
onto a platter,
then
walked out onto the lanai toward
the grill.
 

I followed him outside and sat on the chaise
while he cooked our steaks.
 
He
didn’t say a word, and I couldn’t tell if he was mad at me for the whole Jason
thing or just concentrating on his grilling.
 
I didn’t want to push him, so I stayed
silent as well.

When the meat was done, Callum put together a
simple salad of arugula, heirloom tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and a balsamic
reduction.

He fixed two plates,
then
set them down on the long dining table that sat on the patio. He still hadn’t
said a word.

My heart thrummed in my chest, wondering if
maybe I’d made a mistake staying here.
 
How could I have sex with someone if he was going to be cold and
distant?
 
A night of hot, sexy,
no-strings-attached consensual sex was one thing.
 
It was quite another to be stuck for the
evening with a man who was ignoring you.

We sat down and he cut into his steak.

“You’re not eating,” he growled.

“I’m not hungry.”

“What?” He glanced up at me.

“I’m not just going to sit here and eat when
you haven’t said a word to me for the past ten minutes.”

He opened his mouth to speak, and I knew what
he was going to say. He was going to reference the contract, to say I had no
right to put any expectations on him, that he’d been very clear what he was
offering, that he wasn’t going to explain himself and blah
blah
blah
.

But I didn’t give a shit about the stupid
contract.
 
“Don’t even,” I said
before he could speak.
 
“There’s a
difference between rules and being a total jackass.”

His jaw had been set, but now the side of his
mouth twitched, like he was trying to hold back a smile.
 
“Touché, Ms. O’Connor.”

“Am I?” I challenged.

“Point taken,” he said.
 
“Will you eat if I promise to modify my
behavior?”

“Yes.”
 
I nodded and picked up my fork and knife, cut a piece of the steak and
popped it into my mouth.
 
“Oh my
God,” I said, as the spicy flavor of the perfectly cooked meat exploded on my
tongue.

“Good?” he asked.

“Delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it.”
 
There was a lilt to his voice, and a
promise of something more, as if he was looking forward to pleasing me in other
ways.
 
I blushed again, and this
time, I was pretty sure he noticed.

“So,” he said, cutting another piece of
steak.
 
“Tell me about you.”

“About me?” I asked, surprised.

“Yes.
 
How long have you lived in New York?”

“A couple of days.”

He glanced up in surprise.
 
“A couple of
days?”

“Yes.”

His eyed widened.
 
“I figured you hadn’t been in the city
long, but two days, Jesus, that’s…” he trailed off, and sort of shook his head,
almost like he was trying not to think about it.
 
Why did it matter to him if I’d only
been in the city for a couple of days?
 
Did it make him think I was too naïve to even bother with?

“Why did you move to the city?”
 
he
asked.

“I want to work in publishing.”

“You do know publishing is a dying industry?”

“I’m not talking about journalism,” I
said.
 
“I’m talking about book
publishing.”

“And I’m asking if you know it’s a dying
industry.”

“It’s not.”

“With Amazon?
 
And iBooks?
 
The publishing industry works on
unsustainable business models with antiquated accounting systems that are about
to go the way of the dinosaur.
 
And
you want to get into it why?”

“Because I love books.”

“And you think love is enough to build a career?”

“I think passion is.”

“Are you a passionate person, Adrianna?”

“Define passionate.”

He picked up his water, took a long sip,
then
leaned back in his chair, like he wanted to make sure
he answered my question correctly, even though it was a question that had no
real right answer.
 
“Someone who makes
decisions based on their emotions rather than logic.”

“I’m not sure,” I answered honestly.

“You came to New York.
 
And you’re here with me now.
 
That would indicate a certain level of
passion.
  
And you signed that
contract without even asking me for any changes.
 
That defies logic.”

“I didn’t know the contract was open to
interpretation.”

“You didn’t ask.”
 
He cut another piece of steak and we ate
in silence for a few moments.
 
The
sun was beginning to dip down behind the ocean, casting a dusky glow over the
lanai.
 
The sky was turning from a
beautiful crisp blue to a shade of pinkish orange mixed with streaks of purple.

“What are you thinking?” Callum asked.

I hesitated, not sure if I should tell him what
I was really thinking.
 
But then I
thought, screw it.
 
I had nothing to
lose.
 
 

“I’m thinking about how you took those Ativan
from me and crushed them,” I said honestly.
 
“And I’m wondering why someone would do
that.”
 
The Submissive agrees not to have any drugs,
alcohol, or other illegal substances on her person or in her possession during
the duration of this agreement
.

“Do what?” Callum asked, seemingly amused.
 
“Save you from something potentially
dangerous?”

“No, think it was okay to approach a random
stranger and destroy their property.”

He shrugged casually.
 
“Sometimes the end justifies the means.”

“Is that what you really think?”

“Yes.”

“For life in general?”

“Yes.”
 
He replied without hesitation.
 
“Do you really think those pills are helping you?”

“Yes,” I said.
 
“I do.
 
You don’t know anything about my
personal history, or why those pills were prescribed to me.”
 
And if
you ask me, I won’t tell you.

“I know you seem like the kind of person who is
strong enough to get through periods of uncomfortableness without resorting to
mind-numbing drugs.”

“If that’s what you think I’m doing, then you
don’t know the situation.”

“Fair enough.”

“Anyway,” I said, suddenly uncomfortable.
 
I could feel things subtly shifting, the
mood moving from light to dark, and I didn’t want to encourage it in that
direction.

But he was looking at me seriously, his eyes not
leaving mine, his stare letting me know he wasn’t going to back down.

“What are you thinking?”
 
I asked, tossing his own question back
to him.

“How it’s going to feel to fuck you tonight.”

I almost choked on my steak.
 
“Wow,” I said.
 
“You don’t mince words, do you?”

“I’m a direct to the point kind of man, Lemon,”
he said.
 
He licked his bottom lip, like
he was preparing to devour me, and a shiver ran up my spine.
 
Now I was thinking about what it would
be like for him to be fucking me too, how his cock would feel pushing into me,
spreading me apart.
 
I remembered
how big his dick was, and
an uneasiness
pulsed through
me.
 

“Do you have any hard limits, Adriana?” he
asked.
 
His deep blue eyes were
still on mine, watching me carefully,
his
tone earnest.

“What are hard limits?”

“Things you don’t want to do, no matter what.”

“I haven’t thought about it.”

“Think now.”

“Okay.”
 
I twisted my hands in my lap. I wasn’t sure what to say about my hard
limits, because I wasn’t sure I could even start to think about the things I
wanted
 
him
to do to me, much less the things he might want that I wasn’t
ready for. “I’m not...I’m not sure exactly what my limits are,” I said.
 
“I don’t know what you’re expecting of
me.”

He nodded, like he understood.
 
“Do you know what a safe word is?”

“It’s a word you say when you want to stop
something.”

“Exactly.
 
Our safe word can be lime.”

“Why lime?”

“Because I call you Lemon.
 
And therefore ‘lime’ will be easy for
you to remember.”

“Okay,” I agreed.
 
My heart thrummed against my ribs,
wondering what kinds of things he wanted to do that made him feel like I needed
a special word that would signal him to stop.

“Adriana,” he said.
 
“It is very important that you safe word
as soon as you feel you’re being pushed too hard.
 
It’s better for us to stop then for you
to do something you aren’t one hundred percent comfortable with.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“You promise what?”

“I promise to safe word as soon as I feel
myself starting to hit a limit.”

“And what is our safe word? ”

“Lime.”

“Good girl.
 
Now,” he said, picking his fork back up
and returning to his steak.
 
“Tell
me again about the state of publishing, and how you are determined to dedicate
your life to an industry which has no hope of gaining its market share back
from Amazon.”

I couldn’t believe he wanted to go straight
from talking about safe words to discussing the state of publishing. Talk about
a
non sequitr
!
 
But I did my best to gather my thoughts, did my best to forget about the
fact that I was never going to see him after tonight, and turned my thoughts to
Amazon and monopolies and publishing.

He was a brilliant conversationalist, charming
and smart, and I could tell immediately why he was so successful.
 
Not only was he intelligent, he had a
way of understanding exactly what you were saying, had a way of making you feel
as if your points had been heard even while lining up facts to show you why he
didn’t agree.

We went from talking about publishing, to the
economy, to different restaurants in New York.
 
He was grown-up and cultured and so god
damn hot.
 
His laugh was deep and
seductive, and anytime I could make him laugh, a warm pleasure flowed through
me.
 
He was the perfect man, and by
the time the sun had finished dipping below the horizon and the food had been
finished, I felt a tug of longing for him, not just to sleep with him, but to
be with him,
really
be with him, to spend time with him and get to
know him.

I did my best to convince myself I was being
silly.
 
So what if Callum knew things
about Amazon and publishing?
 
He was
a businessman -- he was paid to know those things.
 
He knew things about all different
industries.
 
Just because I’d
connected with him on that one thing didn’t mean we had a connection,

In fact, it was the complete opposite.
 
The contract had made it clear I wasn’t
to ask him any personal questions, and I hadn’t.
 
So then how was it that I felt so close
to him?

This is what a man like Callum could do to a
woman, I decided.
 
He could make her
lose her mind and give blow jobs in back rooms of BDSM clubs, make her think
there was something there when there wasn’t.

It’s just sex
, I repeated over and over in my head, like a mantra.