A Bona Fide Gold Digger (15 page)

She didn’t understand, but was afraid to admit it. Not wanting him to shove her coat into her arms and show her to the door, she nodded vigorously. Though the kneeling position made her feel utterly ridiculous, she sensed that Gerard would disapprove if she stood. So she remained on her knees, her face at crotch level. Gerard took a step forward. He pressed the back of her head, burying her face into his crotch.

She clung to him. Feeling his dick twitch and spring to life was bliss. At first she nuzzled his crotch, inhaling deeply, drawing in and memorizing his scent. Hesitantly, her lips touched the nylon fabric. She felt an urgent need to ravage him with her tongue. Hungrily, she began to lick his fabric-covered crotch, impatient for him to pull his pants down and stuff his penis into her mouth, choke her, fill her aching stomach with his healing ejaculation.

For the first time in her life, Milan felt uninhibited. Free. Free to give, free to be weak, free to totally submit. She was ready and willing to do anything and everything to please her trainer. Ah, so that was the nature of their relationship. She looked up at him. Enlightenment shone on her face.

“I’m proud of you, Milan,” Gerard said, smoothing her damp hair while Milan resumed licking his fabric-covered dick. “I’m going to prepare a new contract. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes,” she murmured. Her urges were unbearable; she craved his taste. Acting purely on impulse, she reached out. Slipping her urgent fingers beneath his waistband, she gave a slight tug at the elastic.

But Gerard took a step back, causing her hands to slide away. He pulled her up to her feet and offered Milan her coat. “I’ll call you when the new contract is ready, and then I’ll put you on my schedule,” he said, his tone dismissive.

A few minutes later, Milan stood outside in the cold, still sexually frustrated and with aching abdominal muscles. What had just happened? Hadn’t she done everything he’d asked? Why wasn’t she upstairs in Gerard’s bedroom, stripped naked, fucking him until her pussy was raw?

Hoping Gerard would have a change of heart, Milan sat for a few moments inside her car. Then an attention-grabbing yellow Hummer pulled up and parked behind Milan. An Asian woman wearing a full-length chinchilla got out of the flashy vehicle, dashed past Milan’s car, and hurried up the steps to Gerard’s home.

Milan watched through the frosted windshield as Gerard opened the front door. He and the woman embraced briefly in the entryway and then went inside. A sharp pang of envy knifed into the pit of her stomach as Milan drove off.

The Asian woman was probably a client of long standing, she told herself as she headed back to Noah’s home in Radnor. It was just a polite, meaningless hug.

Determined to feel better, Milan resolved that her next encounter with Gerard would be a two-hour session. She’d work her butt off. And most important, she’d make sure she was his last client of the day.

W
ith agonizingly slow movements and cradling her stomach as if she’d recently undergone a caesarian section, Milan took faltering steps into the kitchen. The simple act of opening the refrigerator door caused her to wince in pain.

“What’s wrong with you?” Irma asked, eyeballing Milan as she poured a cup of coffee.

“What’s wrong with me is none of your business, actually,” Milan snapped. “I don’t want coffee but you can make yourself useful and get me a glass.”

Irma speedily retrieved a floral-etched crystal tumbler from the cabinet and gave it to Milan.

“By the way,” Milan said, narrowing her eyes coldly. “I want you to know that I’m onto your scheme.”

Irma jerked in shock. “What scheme?”

Milan poured orange juice into the tumbler. “I’ve gained weight, thanks to you.”

Irma’s jaw dropped.

“That’s right. I blame you for this agonizing pain. My body’s sore from doing a zillion abdominal exercises, trying to get rid of this excess weight.”

Irma looked Milan up and down. “I don’t see any extra weight. But even so, what do I have to do with it?”

“You’re spiking my food…possibly my morning coffee as well.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re trying to make me as plump and undesirable as you.” Milan paused and waited for Irma to react.

Irma accepted the insult without batting an eye. “What could I put in your food that would make you gain weight? I give you the food you ask for and I cook it the way you want it. If you want it steamed, that’s what I do. When you tell me to bake your fish and chicken and whatnot, that’s exactly how I fix it. If you’re gaining, it must be from the extra snacking you do up in your bedroom or when you’re outside of the house,” Irma said saucily.

“I don’t snack.” Milan snorted with disgust. “You’ve been putting something in my food, Irma. I don’t know what, but I will not eat another morsel cooked by you.”

“That’s fine with me!” Irma responded and clucked her tongue.

“You’re not indispensable, you know. Anyone can make Noah’s soup! I’m going to speak to him this instant. I’m going to tell him that I can no longer tolerate your impudence. He’s going to have to terminate you, or he can find himself another wife.” Milan chugged down the orange juice.

“I wouldn’t bother Mr. Brockington right now, if I were you.”

“Who are you to tell me when I should bother
my
fiancé?” Milan put a hand on her hip.

Irma waddled over to Milan and spoke softly. “He was on the phone when I took up his breakfast.”

“So what? He was probably speaking with his attorney.”

“Well…I don’t think so. He was crying…” Irma paused to let her words sink in. “Blowing his nose and bawling something awful.”

“What did you overhear?” Milan asked, suddenly curious.

“He told the person on the other end of the phone that nobody loved him; that there wasn’t a single soul on this earth who truly cared about him.”

Milan couldn’t deny that Noah’s words were true, but she needed to convince him that
she
cared. She’d have to start behaving in a loving manner. She couldn’t risk him changing his mind about their marriage. With her heart set on having Gerard—buying huge blocks of his time to keep him to herself—having access to Noah’s money was more important than ever.

“No, it doesn’t seem like he’d speak in such an intimate manner with his lawyer,” Milan confided to Irma, momentarily regarding the woman as friend instead of foe. “Who do you think he was talking to?”

Irma scrunched up her face as she thought. “To be honest with you, I think he was talking to Greer,” she said, twisting her lips in disgust.

“Greer! Why would he be talking to Greer? She’s fired!”

“She is? I thought Greer was on vacation.”

“No, I called the agency and had Greer replaced. I asked Ms. Henry to take care of Noah permanently.”

“Does Mr. Brockington know? He was really attached to Greer, you know,” Irma said, sounding apprehensive.

“No, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t need to know,” Milan softly scolded. “As long as Ms. Henry is performing her nursing duties satisfactorily, Noah won’t complain.”

The slice of seven-grain bread and the hard boiled egg she’d planned to have with the orange juice no longer interested her. Draining the juice, she handed Irma the empty tumbler. “Where’s Miss Henry?”

Irma gave Milan a look. “Where do you think? She’s in the library; where else would she be?”

Slowed by her aching muscles, Milan maneuvered past Irma and then managed to whirl out of the kitchen. It was time for the nurse to stop her incessant reading and start earning her keep. Having his perverted yearnings satisfied was a surefire way of keeping Noah’s mind off Greer.

Milan stormed into the spacious library. Sure enough, Nurse Henry was lounging, smiling, with her head buried in something by Shakespeare. Milan rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “It’s time for Mr. Brockington’s soothing.” Milan spoke sternly. Her voice echoed inside the quiet room, startling Ruth Henry.

The book slipped from the nurse’s hands and plopped into her lap. She picked the book up, saved her page with her own personalized bookmark, and frowned down at her watch. “I thought you said to give Mr. Brockington a back rub and…do that other thing after lunch.”

“Change of plans. I don’t know how to put it in medical terminology, but I need you to take care of him whenever it’s necessary.”

“You want me to do it PRN?”

“I guess,” Milan said absently. “What’s PRN?”

“In nurse’s lingo, PRN,” Ruth Henry informed her, “is the abbreviation for ‘as required.’”

Milan narrowed her eyes coldly. “That’s exactly what I want you to do. Soothe him as required. And it’s required right now,” she said bluntly and then watched Ruth’s expression flicker from anger to acceptance. Resignedly, Ruth closed the book. The nurse had never asked for extra compensation or any type of bonus. Apparently, the fear of being ejected from the library motivated the woman to agree to provide anal probing—PRN.
Now, that’s sick!
Milan thought, shaking her head disgustedly.

Ruth Henry caressed the book and then placed it in an empty space on one of the many shelves. Straightening her shoulders, she left the library to administer to her patient.

Milan’s thoughts turned back to Greer. Her lips turned up in a spiteful grin. That greedy heifer would have to peddle her pills elsewhere. Greer could try every trick in the book, but she would never get back into the Brockington estate. Not with Milan standing guard.

Milan used a pleasant-sounding, professional voice for the first three messages she left on Gerard’s voice mail. There was an annoyed lilt in her tone by the sixth message. She marked the tenth message urgent. And by the fifteenth, she pleaded with Gerard, begged him to please return her call. But hours elapsed without a word from him. Clutching her cell phone, she finally fell asleep.

Early the next morning she was jolted awake when the phone vibrated against her hand. “Hello?”

“It’s Gerard.”

Milan’s heart leaped into her throat. “Good morning,” she murmured and excitedly sat up straight. Just hearing his deep sexy voice made her want to forgive his delay in returning her calls. But being a business professional, Milan couldn’t stop herself from bringing up the subject. “I left a million messages yesterday,” she said in a mildly chastising tone.

“Yeah, you were on some kind of rant.”

“I wasn’t on a rant. Well…not by choice. I’m surprised you’re not more professional. Being self-employed…um…you know, I thought it would be in your best interest to return calls in a timelier manner.”

“Milan,” Gerard said with the patience of a tolerant parent, then his tone toughened. “You only needed to leave one message. I caught your drift, you didn’t have to say the same thing over and over. When you filled my mail box to capacity, you prevented my other clients from being able to get in touch. That’s bad business.”

“I’m sorry. I was just so anxious to get started. I didn’t mean—”

“Your behavior yesterday was a little over the top. I called to tell you that I’ve changed my mind about accepting you as a client. You’re too headstrong a person; my instincts tell me that I can’t train you. You’re obstinate. Much too willful to submit to rigorous training.”

Panic seized Milan. Wanting to get in better shape was just a ruse. She didn’t need to fit into a wedding gown but she had to keep up the charade to be near Gerard and hopefully get in bed with him. She’d never had a boyfriend, never wanted one, and had most definitely never experienced the rush of first love. Was she experiencing love for the first time? Undoubtedly, she’d felt a severe physical attraction to Gerard at first sight. But was that really love? How could she know when she had no comparative experiences? Milan had always been strictly about self.

Her rational mind told her she was being obsessive, the way she’d been about her career. Perhaps she was replacing her lost occupation with Gerard, fixating on him to fill a void. Whatever the case, she needed this man. To her utter shame and bewilderment, she needed this beautiful stranger from out of the blue as desperately as she needed to breathe. Losing him was not an option. She’d say, do, and be whatever he desired. Nothing was more important than getting back in his good graces.

“I’m not willful,” Milan protested. “I was excited about getting started. I apologize for my behavior. I promise it won’t happen again.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Milan literally crossed her fingers as she waited for Gerard to make a decision.

“I’m going to put you on the schedule…”

Milan breathed a sigh of relief and then smiled broadly.

“But you’re on probation,” Gerard added. “I’ll fit you into a half-hour slot for now. During that half-hour, I’ll go over my rules and regulations. If you cooperate fully, I’ll give you a full hour.”

A half-hour? What could she accomplish in that measly amount of time? But she didn’t dare complain, she simply said, “Thank you.”

“I’ll see you in an hour,” Gerard told her and then terminated the call.

Confused, Milan stared at the tiny phone in her hand. He’d hung up without giving her any instructions. Should she be prepared to pay for the session? She didn’t want to offend him with a monetary offer if he wasn’t willing to accept payment yet. As she pondered the payment aspect of their relationship, the phone buzzed in her hand. He’d read her mind! She and Gerard had to be soul mates or something. Delighted, she flipped it open. “Hi,” she gushed happily.

“You sure sound cheerful,” Sweetie said, suspiciously. “What’s up? Did that old man croak or something?”

“Damn. You have such horrible timing. I was expecting a call from someone else.”

“My bad. Excuse me for intruding,” Sweetie said sarcastically. “Dang. Can’t even be nice to you.”

“I’m sorry, Sweetie, my mind is on something else right now.”

“Something other than your lavish wedding? Now, that’s a surprise. Anyway, I had some free time and was just calling to find out if you needed me to do anything, but never mind. I’ll just continue to do what you always accuse me of doing—put up my feet, yak on the phone, and watch TV.”

Milan sighed. “The wedding is off.”

Sweetie gasped. “You’re kidding. What happened? Ol’ Dude caught on to your schemin,’ gold-diggin’ ass?”

“You’re so crude. In response to your question, Noah didn’t catch on to anything. We’re still getting married. But I’ve decided that due to his declining health, a big extravaganza wouldn’t be in his best interests.”

“Hmm. You’re talkin’ to your big sis. And I know you like the back of my hand. What’s the real reason you’re calling off the big shindig? Is Ol’ Dude refusing to pay or did you decide to spend all that money on something else?”

“Sweetie, go play sleuth with someone else. I told you the reason. Now, I have to go. I have somewhere to be in less than an hour.”

“Hold up. What about all that cake you promised? I held up my end of the bargain—you still gon’ break me and Quantez off?”

“Yes, Sweetie, you and Quantez will benefit when I marry Noah,” Milan said, shaking her head in exasperation. “Look, I have to go; I’ll talk to you later.”

There wasn’t enough time to look her best. In less than fifteen minutes, Milan threw together a barely presentable look, dashed past Noah’s bedroom, and raced down the stairs and out the front door.