ROMANCE: Billionaire Romance: Tantalizing Temptation (New Adult, Short Stories, Billionaire Romance, Contemporary BBW Romance) (4 page)

“This one goes here,” Kale said, holding up one of the bar railings.

“No, It doesn't,” Gabe tried to tell him, but at this point far into my pregnancy, Kale was more hormonal than I was, and that was saying something.

“Are you sure?” Kale asked, giving him a look with his eyebrow raised.

“More than positive, I have put up two cribs before.”

“Correction,” Kendall said, coming in with a laugh. “You watched me put up two cribs before.”

Gabe's face was now flushed by the work, and he just shook his head, looking back in the instructions.

I couldn't help but laugh.

“Glad you think its funny love,” Kale said, looking over at me.

“Oh, I don't think it’s funny,” I said. “I know it’s funny.”

He just sighed deeply and ran his hands over his face. “Why don't we take a break?”

“Giving up so easily?” Gabe asked, smirking.

“Yes.” Kale stood up with a groan.

A notification showed up on my phone, an email from the author of His Mistress’s Arms. Her book had been published and released last week, and I couldn’t be happier for her. She’d delivered her book baby, and now I was about to have a human baby. Smiling, I opened up the message.

Dear Angie, Thank you again for your time and the heart you put into my book. I just found out it’s on the NYT Bestseller’s List!

I whooped and clapped, surprising everyone. When I shared the news, we celebrated with sparkling cider. Nadia’s little brothers’ faces scrunched up at the bubbles, so Kendall gave them plain apple juice, instead.

*

A month later, I was in the hospital having our baby girl. It was a long labored birth that I thought was going to go wrong, but Kale kept insisting that everything was going to be okay. It was okay—I had him by my side, and we were finally going to have marriage new little baby. I pushed one last time and soon enough, Kale and I heard our daughter crying.

Kale kissed my forehead and smiled, holding my hand. “I’m so proud of you, love. You did a great job.”

I held on to him, I was lucky enough to have him next to me, and to have him as my soul mate, and as our daughter’s father. It had been a long time since I’d been the frazzled editor seeking solace in the perfection of words, but now I was a wife and mother, and perfection was just a word itself. Life was crazy and messy and beautiful, and our lives were full of love. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Menage Romance

Brenda threw a glance at her wrist watch and wondered what was taking her fiancé so long. It wasn’t like him to be late and she was just starting to get worried. Suddenly, the women at the next table started giggling, before stopping abruptly. They’d seen him, too—his powerful, broad shoulders, his flawless skin, and the kind of face that looked like it belonged in Hollywood films. He strolled in and flashed Brenda his usual dazzling smile.

“I’m sorry,” he started to say as he leaned in closer to Brenda and planted a soft peck on her cheek. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

“Not at all,” Brenda answered. “You were only five minutes late and that is so unlike you, you almost got me worried.”

“I was stuck in traffic,” he went on to say and apologized once again.

Brenda shook her head. “Really, it’s okay. It’s only five minutes.”

“You are wearing that dress,” he said. “It makes me want to bend you over this table and make you say my name.”

Brenda felt her face flush with desire. “Thank you, love,” she answered. “Maybe we should go back to my condo—”

“Have you ordered?”

“Not yet,” she answered. Typical Paul. Changing the subject just when it was getting interesting. “I was waiting for you.”

“You must be famished,” he said lovingly as he placed his hand on hers. He sat up and signaled for a waiter with his right hand who was at their side in a second.

“Please get us the wine list,” he said. “My assistant had called earlier and requested the chef to prepare a meal for us, please find out if it’s ready.”

Brenda watched as the waiter left them and rushed over to the kitchen. She remembered back to when she’d first started dating Paul, when the fanciest meal she’d had was from the Italian restaurant chain next to the shopping mall.

“Paul,” she said.

“Yes, dear?”

“We should take the meal up to the room.”

Paul looked at his wrist watch and gave her a worried look. She felt herself pouting—this was it, where he said he was sorry, but he really was in a rush…

“I have to catch a plane, dear,” he said.

“But you were out of town last week,” she complained.

“I know,” Paul answered. “I’m sorry. This is an impromptu meeting; it was scheduled this morning. There’s no way I can get out of it, though.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“A week, maybe two.”

“What?”

“I am sorry, love ,” Paul answered, “but you are always welcome to come with me. France is beautiful this time of year.”

“We both know how that turned out the last time I went on a business trip with you,” Brenda answered.

She’d spent the days shut up in their hotel room in Barcelona, afraid to venture out on her own, but unable to keep Paul with her longer than the time it took him to chug his morning coffee. The entire time, she’d wished that she’d stayed home. At least at home she could understand the road signs and ask directions.

“Come on sweetie,” he said. “Don’t be like that.”

“I am sexually frustrated,” she said out loud and did not realize how loud she was until a few people in the room turned their attention to them curiously. The three women at the table next to theirs burst into another fit of giggles.

“Hush, my love,” he said after a few minutes.

“I will be back and I will take care of you.”

“You make it sound like an appointment or something.”

Paul paused for a minute as he accepted the wine list from the waiter who offered it to him. He took his pick from the list and watched as the waiter nodded and left the table.

“I am sorry, pet,” Paul replied. “I work so hard so that we can both be comfortable, so we can have this wonderful life.”

“It doesn’t mean much if I never see you,” Brenda complained.

“Please,” he replied, “Let’s not argue today.”

Brenda watched as the waiter got back to their table and poured her a glass of wine. She wanted to enjoy the meal but she only felt frustrated and took a sip from her glass.

“I need to go to the ladies room,” Brenda said and got to her feet.

His hand shot out and he gripped her wrist—not hard enough to hurt, just enough for her to take notice. “That dress,” he growled. “You wore it on purpose, to tempt me.”

She couldn’t hold back her smug smile. “Maybe.”

“Are you really as sexually frustrated as you say you are?”

Wordlessly, she nodded.

“I am a thorough man,” he said, and the hand that gripped her began making slow, sensual motions along the underside of her arm. “I don’t like to leave tasks unfinished. Loose ends. When I can’t take care of business, I hire other people to take care of it for me. What do you say to that?”

She looked down at him in shock, at his blazing blue eyes, clear and challenging.

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” she asked.

He nodded, once. “And when I come back, I want you to put this dress on and tell me about every…single…instant that you enjoyed while I was gone.”

Shivering at the thought, Brenda stepped away. He let her go, touching her skin for as long as possible.

She walked over to the ladies room with her purse clutched firmly in her hand. He wanted her to…what…have sex with someone else? Get her needs met? She was “unfinished business,” was that how he saw her?

The ladies room door swung right open and Brenda walked over to one of the stalls. She buried her head deep in the palms of her hand and felt the hot stream of tears roll down her face. She cried for a few more seconds and took a handkerchief from her purse. In front of the mirror, she dabbed at her face, gently wiping away any stray mascara, before regaining her composure and walking back to the dining room.

“So what do you think?” Paul asked as he looked at his wrist watch for the millionth time that day.

One day I am going to strangle him with that watch
, Brenda thought to herself before taking a seat opposite her man.

“If you think it’s best,” she said, and unfolded her napkin. She offered him one of her most dazzling smiles and took another sip from her wine. “Thank you for working so hard to satisfy me in this way. I’ll do it—I’ll be with someone, and when you come back from Paris I’ll wear this dress and tell you about every single second. But I want to choose my partner.”

Brenda was a smart girl and knew how to play her cards right; Paul was her sole provider. He had bought her a condo and an Aston Martin and ensured that she led a lavish lifestyle. Although she always wanted more time with him, she didn’t want to sound ungrateful.

He nodded. “Done. Do you know how to get in touch with someone?”

“No,” she said, honestly. “I’ve never done something like this before.”

“I’ll text you some phone numbers,” Paul said.

The food was brought over to their table and he began to chow down on the meal.

“So where will you be going this time round?” Brenda asked as she nibbled on her food. She had no appetite but forced herself to eat anyway, knowing that Paul would be disappointed if she wasn’t enjoying herself.

“Paris,” he answered without looking up from his plate.

How easily he transitioned from talk of hiring her a…a
gigolo
…to talk of travel. She’d expected him to not answer her question, to turn it around to what sort of man she wanted to keep her company in his stead. Did he care so little for her, for her tastes?

He took a sip from his wine glass and went on to say, “We might open a branch there very soon.”

This piece of information got Brenda’s attention and she fixed a glance at Paul.

“Maybe you should get me a job there,” she suggested and watched as Paul placed down his fork and ran his napkin over his mouth.

“We have talked about this over and over again,” he said, and took a sip of his wine. “I don’t want you to work my dear.”

“I know that,” Brenda complained, “but I don’t like idling around and doing nothing the whole day.”

He looked puzzled. “I thought I had my assistant draw up a schedule for you.”

“Which she did,” she replied, “but none of what she added on the schedule is what I like to do.”

Brenda leaned back in her seat for dramatic effect and looked deep into Paul’s eyes. “She has got me scheduled for the gym and the spa and party planning with other rich-ass snob wives.”

Paul couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “I love how you complain,” he said. “I love your dirty, proletariat language.”

Brenda glared at him. There was plenty more where
that
came from.

He dabbed his lips with his napkin. “I must get going now,
cherie
. I’ll drop you off at your condo.”

“Fine,” Brenda said. They both got up and walked out of the restaurant, hand in hand. Brenda was by now used to the many stares that she got every time she walked around with Paul in her arm. Did any of those envying people know what a cold, businesslike relationship she had with Paul? They had sex on Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, unless Paul was out of town. Their couplings were steamy, for sure, but sometimes Brenda wondered if Paul was studying some sort of manual on different sexual positions and places to have sex. One night it would be on the bedroom floor. Another, in the shower. She half-wondered if he had some sort of checklist of positions and rooms.

They left the building and Paul’s driver was waiting and holding the door for them. They both huddled in the back seat and held hands. Brenda let her head rest on Paul’s shoulder and acknowledged the lonely feeling that was creeping up on her all of a sudden. She did not want him to go but she didn’t have a choice either. The drive to her condo felt short and Brenda could see her building from a distance as they approached it.

“If your flight isn’t until this evening, why don’t you come inside with me? You can help me out of my dress,” she said.

“I have to attend another meeting before the plane leaves,” Paul explained and placed a light peck on Brenda’s cheek. “Spare no expense with finding a suitable companion in my absence,” he said and kissed her cheek once more.

She didn’t know how to feel about the idea of finding someone to take his place. A substitute fiancé? Honestly, she didn’t think she could go through with it. Maybe she’d make something up, and tell Paul all about her pretend adventures when he returned. He’d never have to know.

As if seeing her doubts, Paul brushed a finger along her jaw. “I mean it,” he said. “I hate the idea of leaving you here, frustrated and alone. We’re a modern couple, and I’m confident you love me. Please find someone to keep you company, and when I come back, we’ll be together again.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding. She didn’t have blind romantic notions, but this concept of a paid companion in his absence…it was throwing her for a loop. “I love you. Travel safe.” She reluctantly got out of the vehicle. “Be sure to let me know when you land.”

“I will,” Paul answered, and he already had his phone to his ear before the car could skid away.

Brenda watched as the vehicle disappeared in the vicinity and walked up her front steps. She mentally brought up her calendar and realized that she was scheduled for a facial.

“I just had one a few days ago,” she said to herself and opened the door to her house. She looked around the vacant spacious house. Paul’s money had paid for all this. Her condo, her car, her phone, her clothes. Her shoes. Her food. Her sex toys. And now…her sex companions.

Shaking her head, she walked upstairs to her room and slipped into a pair of velour pants and a camisole. When Paul was around she wore naughty lingerie, but when she was alone she preferred things that made her skin happy, not itchy.

She got some ice cream out of the fridge before walking back to the living room and flipped through the channels. She thought of the lunch she’d had with Paul and decided to let out her frustrations on wine instead.

There was nothing to watch on the TV as she flipped through the channels. Two texts came in from Paul—both of them websites for escort agencies. She browsed one, and then the other. Both boasted the hottest, sexiest men to date, but she didn’t have any kind of connection with strangers. It seemed like such a waste of time and money. Brenda instead decided to place a call to one of her friends.

“Hey girl,” Samantha, her best friend, said over the phone.

“Hey,” Brenda said, a smile forming on her face despite her glum, confused mood. “What are you up to?”

“I’m going to meet up with JT. I thought you were having lunch with Paul?”

“I just did, he had to leave early he has to fly to Paris later in the evening,” Brenda replied. She wanted to tell Samantha all about Paul’s weird instructions, that she find a male companion, but the words wouldn’t come. Would Samantha understand? Worse, would Samantha encourage her? Probably. Brenda didn’t know if she could bear it.

“I wish I could come over and keep you company, but I need to see JT; it’s been a whole entire day since we had sex, and you know how long that is for us!” Samantha said, laughing.

“It’s okay,” Brenda said. She envied Samantha’s easy relationship with JT. The two were sexually insatiable and had zero inhibitions. Brenda wondered what Samantha would think about Paul’s idea. Probably Samantha would embrace it.