Billionaire Games (2 page)

S
imeon was
on edge with anticipation, so much so that he forced himself to stand still so that he didn’t give away how much the thought of seeing her again excited him. He’d been working toward this moment for nearly a decade and had dedicated himself to seeing it through. He was just eager to finally get the satisfaction he deserved. The anticipation was only that.

It had nothing to do with Claire.

Simeon wished he could believe that, but he knew it wasn’t true.

He wasn’t on edge, ready to burst because he was on the verge of fulfilling his most desired goal. It would have been easier if that was the case, but it wasn’t. No, he was on edge, close to losing the control that he treasured simply because Claire had entered the room.

He fucking despised it.

Simeon had risen from nothing, had taken the pain that Claire had caused and fed on it, all in service of this moment, all for the chance to make her regret what she had done to him.

But was he enjoying it, savoring the fact that he had the upper hand, that he’d maneuvered her exactly where he’d wanted her and all without her noticing?

No, he wasn’t, and all because he was so fucking distracted by being in the same room with her.

He hadn’t turned, but he’d heard her enter, heard her sharp intake of breath, smelled the sweet scent that had come into the room with her. His cock swelled, still craving her after all this time.

Focus,
he yelled to himself, trying to calm the raging hard-on that now tented his custom-made pants.

He was here for a reason, with one goal in mind, and it didn’t involve fucking Claire in the middle of a conference room.

There’d be plenty of time for that later.

He’d fuck her until he’d had his fill, and then he’d never think of her again, except to laugh at how much she regretted screwing him over. And once that was done, the hold she’d had over him would be gone, and he’d finally have Claire Winsome out of his system for good.

Thinking of that, of how satisfied how he’d be, was the thing allowed him to finally look at her where she stood in the doorway.

Her hair was shorter. The thick brown locks that had curtained his face as he had driven into her from below were gone. In their place was a neat cut that exposed the curve of her jaw and column of her neck. He was instantly assaulted with the memory of how that skin had tasted, how easy it was to mark her with his kisses.

He let his gaze travel down the two open buttons of her crisp white shirt, following the trail of skin until it disappeared. The shirt was modest but it couldn’t hide the swell of her tits, just as the skirt she wore couldn’t hide the hips he had loved to hold as he pounded into her from behind.

His groin pulled tight at the memory of her body and the things he’d done with her, and thoughts of those he would do yet.

“Close the door behind you,” he said.

She gently pushed the door closed and then stood silent and watched him, confused, almost as if she had seen a ghost. He understood how she felt, and not for the first time, he wondered if she had even thought of him in the years since they had seen each other.

Probably not.

But she would think of him now, think of the kid she had so callously tossed aside, and she would remember.

“Simeon…”

Her voice was lower, and he instantly imagined how it would sound as he stroked her to climax. Something else he would experience soon enough.

“We never had a proper good-bye, don’t you agree, Claire?”

She looked at him, stunned, opening and closing her mouth as no words came out. For a moment, just a split second, he remembered how much of a chatterbox she was and then how flustered she’d get when she realized what she was doing. He often teased her that one day he would strike her speechless, and then he’d proceed to try.

He’d finally succeeded, but that was only the first victory of the many he had planned.

“You agree. Good. I’ll be direct,” he said.

“Simeon, I—”

“I want you. Six weeks, at my complete disposal.”

“What!” she exclaimed.

Simeon smiled at the satisfaction that bloomed in his chest as he took in her bewildered expression.

“You heard me. Mine. For six weeks.”

She shook her head, and looked at him with wide eyes that almost made him sympathize with her. Almost.

“What are you talking about?” she said, her voice rising to a near shriek.

“Like I said. We never had a proper good-bye. Now is the time for it.”

“What do you mean, at your disposal?” she asked, peering at him hard like maybe if she stared at him long enough she could see inside him, see what he had become. Whatever he had become, she’d made him, and he wouldn’t let her facade suck him in. Not again.

“You don’t get to ask me questions, Claire. That’s not a part of our bargain, but I’ll make an exception just this once.”

He stopped closer to her, reveling in the way she nervously tugged at her collar and the way her plump lips dropped open. He could practically feel them as they closed around his shaft, yet something else he would soon experience again.

He moved even closer, happy when he saw the pulse at the base of her throat and even happier when she stepped backward, moving until she could move no farther. Her back was flat against the glass wall, the blinds giving where she stood, but he came even closer still until their bodies almost touched.

“It’s exactly as it sounds, Claire. You, at my disposal, for six weeks.”

She lifted her head, her glittering blue eyes meeting his.

“That’s very vague, Simeon.”

Her voice came out on the low whisper, seducing him even as he tried to keep himself distant.

He closed the distance between them ever so slightly, even though doing so only intensified the sweet smell of her, made him feel her warmth that much more. “You’re a smart girl, Claire. Far smarter than I ever was, but since you want to pretend, I’ll spell it out for you. I’m going to fuck you.”

He said the last word on a low, almost guttural, whisper, and he waited, anticipating her surprise, revulsion. He didn’t see either.

Instead, her eyes widened before dropping low, and rather than recoiling, he saw pure interest. Claire had always been an open book, her emotions, desires, clear on her face.

Except when they weren’t, he reminded himself, those words replaying in his brain again, still strong, loud, and never to be forgotten.

“I could never love someone like him.”

Whatever he’d thought of her, he had been wrong. She was just like everyone else, a liar, and he couldn’t forget that. No matter how much her closeness was driving him to distraction. He could never trust her, would never trust her, and he wouldn’t let himself get taken in again.

“And why would I”—she swallowed thickly—“why would I do that?” she said.

He smiled then, the expression he knew one of triumph.

“Because if you don’t, I will destroy you and everything you hold dear.”

C
laire’s
entire mind wanted to reject what was happening. It would have been easier to believe that she wasn’t in this room, back pressed flat against the glass wall with Simeon Hayes in all of his evil and angelic glory looming over her, beautiful, so like she’d remembered but so different.

But his very presence wouldn’t allow her to reject it, wouldn’t let her pretend that she wasn’t here, and worse, that she didn’t want to be. It wouldn’t allow her to pretend that every part of her wasn’t humming with the excitement of him so near her.

She met his eyes, and when she glimpsed the deep brown, her lungs froze in her chest and her heart skipped a beat. He’d never looked at her quite like this before. His eyes were cold, not warm with passion as she so often dreamed of. He looked at her as if he felt nothing at all. But as much as the coldness of his expression wounded her, it did nothing to calm her desire for him.

She dropped her gaze to his stubbled jaw, the beginnings of the beard at odds with the fine, hand-sewn shirt he wore. His beard would be rough against her skin, but his soft lips would soothe away the sting. Her nipples tightened until they were sensitive tips that were practically crying for out his touch, and the space between her thighs began to throb with need that only he could take away.

She was unable to stand still any longer, so she shifted, the rasp of her panties against her sensitive sex sending shocks of excitement through her body. Simeon’s outrageous suggestion should have her angry, not on the verge of coming without him even touching her, but she was, her body alive and needy in a way it hadn’t been since she had seen him last. His closeness only intensified the feeling.

He’d always been tall, muscular, and that hadn’t changed. He still towered over her, and this close, his muscled body trapping hers against the glass, she felt small, dainty, and more than anything she wanted to touch him, feel his hard body against hers.

So as much as her mind said he couldn’t be here looking at her as if he wanted to throttle her and then screw her senseless, that he hadn’t just demanded she be his whore, she couldn’t deny his presence or his words. The raging desire that animated her wouldn’t allow it.

“Simeon, I—”

“Yes or no,” he said.

She met his eyes again.

“Destroy me?” she said.

His expression turned warm, not with passion but with frustration and anger.

“That’s right, rich girl. You don’t know what it’s like to be destroyed. And if you don’t want to find out, you’ll accept,” he said.

Simeon was wrong. She did know what it was like to be destroyed. He was the one who had destroyed her, after all.

So why was he acting like this? How could he be angry with her? He had ripped her heart out without so much as a second thought, and yet he’d returned nine years later, acting as if he were the wronged party.

That memory of how devastated she had been, of all the time it had taken for her to slowly piece herself together again, of how stupid she’d felt for having believed in him when everyone else had told her that he was no good, was the only thing that allowed her to continue to meet his eyes.

She stood up straighter and ignored the sizzle that went through her when their bodies touched.

“I don’t have time for these games, and I don’t have time for you. So do your worst, Simeon. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do,” she said.

Simeon lifted one corner of his mouth in a wolfish smile, and she had the sinking feeling that she had unknowingly played right into his hands.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Claire,” he said, not moving even when she attempted to slide away from him. “You don’t have work to do. Not unless I say you do. One word from me and you’ll have nothing but time,” he said.

“What you talking about, Simeon?” she snapped.

He smiled bigger. “Still feisty, rich girl?”

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed.

“You are. Good. I hope that spiritedness still extends to other areas,” he said.

“Good-bye,” she said, stepping toward the door.

“Stop,” he commanded, and to her shame, Claire complied.

She turned and then crossed her arms over her chest before she uncrossed them and let them hang limply at her sides.

As she watched, he grabbed an envelope off the table and then turned to face her. “As of nine thirty this morning I am the owner of this company. Which means you work for me,” he said. “Or not. The choice is yours,” he said.

“You bought—”

He closed the space between them, came close enough that she again felt the heat of his body. “I’m not the same street trash I used to be, Claire. I have money now, power. And I
will
use it,” he thundered.

She watched him without responding, but her mind raced as she thought of all the stories she had read over the years. She’d never told anyone, but she obsessively read anything she could about him, hungry for any scraps of information she could find.

His meteoric rise was the stuff of legend. In less than a decade he’d gone from nothing to billionaire. His empire was vast and included real estate, technology, and energy investments.

So why would he bother with a respected and up and coming, but ultimately small architectural firm? Certainly not because of her.

“You own this company? Why?” she asked, giving voice to her thoughts.

“Haven’t you been paying attention, rich girl?”

“Simeon…”

At the warning tone in her voice, he simply smiled and she wanted to punch him.

“Fine. So you own this place. I’m good at what I do. I’ll get another job. Easy enough,” she said.

She turned and took the two steps to the conference room door. When she reached out, his voice, ice-cold and hard, again stopped her from turning the knob.

“If you walk out of that door, the deal’s off. You’re free to leave, but good luck finding another job. Anywhere.”

Instinct told her to keep her back to him, to walk out of the room, pretend she had never seen him, and go on with things as they had been only minutes ago. But something in his voice wouldn’t let her. Simeon had always been many things, stubborn, too damn proud for his own good, but, except for the time when he’d said he loved her, he had never lied.

It was that knowledge of him that made her turn.

“So you’re threatening me?” she asked when she looked at him at him again.

“No. I’m not. I’m promising you. You’ll never work as an architect again. Not here, not anywhere else.”

Her mind raced with the confusion of this moment. She took in his face, stern, distant, so painful in the way it reminded her of who he used to be, who she’d thought he was.

“And before you go thinking that you’ll just run to Daddy and have him make it all better, there’s something else you should look at,” he said.

He tossed an envelope to her, and she quickly retrieved the documents and read them.

Then read them again.

“That’s right. You can’t count on him to protect you,” Simeon said.

Her anger sparked again, but she pushed it aside and instead focused on the papers he had shoved into her hand.