Billionaire Games (8 page)

S
everal weeks
after she’d arrived, Claire sat in her favorite spot on the balcony watching the sun set. She heard the door open and close, and though her heart leaped, she didn’t move.

For an instant she allowed herself to hope that it was Simeon. It wouldn’t be, though. He only came to her at night, in the deep darkness, usually hours after she’d fallen asleep. He’d appear like something she’d conjured in a dream, take her to the absolute heights of passion, and then disappear. Some mornings when Claire woke, she could halfway convince herself that the previous night had been a dream, that she’d created some fantasy lover in her mind.

But her deliciously sore body and the crawling need that always thrummed through her proved that he had been real.

And with each passing day, her desire for him grew. She wanted him always, not just in the dead of night, but in the morning, the afternoon, the evening. Now. Always. She hadn’t seen him for nine years, and after a few weeks she thought she was going to crawl out of her skin with anticipation even though she’d only seen him, had him inside her body, hours before.

Seeing him, feeling his touch, had awakened her, but Simeon, cruel as he was, always left her wanting.

Still, every time the door opened, she had that moment’s anticipation that maybe it was him. She knew he never came here this early, and she knew today would be no different, but hoped. And as it always was, that hope was quickly dashed.

“Evening, Claire,” Alan called.

She stood and went inside the penthouse and watched Alan as he walked in.

The last morning Simeon had been there, he’d told her Alan would be downstairs should she need anything. Claire hadn’t gone anywhere the first day, but by the next, she’d been bored and anxious to get out, so she’d ventured downstairs, excited to get out and desperate for conversation. Silly because she’d only been there for a day or so then, but Claire loved to chat, so she didn’t do well without conversation, and even more, she’d needed a distraction from thinking about Simeon and when he might show up again.

At first, Claire had had him take her to the grocery store, and it had only been after she’d selected her items that she realized she had no money. Alan had produced a credit card and shoved it at her. Claire had been reluctant and bought only necessities, but the next day she’d gone out again, and in the intervening days, she’d bought a few items of clothing and a few other things, including furniture for the balcony. Claire ignored the fact that she was settling down here, losing sight of what had brought her here and what Simeon was holding over her head.

She tried to remind herself, fought to keep perspective, but that got increasingly difficult, and the easy friendship she had formed with Alan had only made her more comfortable here.

“Hey, Alan,” Claire said, smiling at her new friend. “Were we supposed to go out today?”

She didn’t remember, but then again, she was so twisted up from wishing for Simeon she wasn’t sure if she would have.

“No. I have a special delivery,” Alan said.

It was then that Claire noticed the three large bags he carried.

“What’s in those?” she asked, staring at the bags and then back to Alan before looking back at the bags.

They were black with thick red handles and a discreetly inscribed name that she didn’t recognize. Her curiosity was piqued by what could’ve been in them and she was more excited than she could admit by this slight recognition that Simeon had been thinking of her.

Alan shrugged, reminding Claire that she wasn’t alone. “Didn’t open them,” he said.

“But where did they come from?” she asked.

Alan shrugged again, and if Claire didn’t know better, she would have said he blushed. And Alan didn’t look like the type to blush easily.

“Don’t know,” he finally said.

“Okay,” Claire replied. Then she paused, considering her next question carefully before she decided to confront it head-on. “Does he do this a lot?” she asked.

Alan frowned and then Claire began to backtrack.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to put you on the spot,” she said quickly. “Just forget I said anything.”

She should have kept her mouth closed, but the question had been clawing at Claire’s mind. Claire wasn’t jealous, or at least she hadn’t thought she was jealous, but as the days had passed, she couldn’t shake the idea that maybe Simeon had women stashed all over Boston, maybe the whole country, the world, and she was just a diversion.

That hadn’t felt right. The intensity of his passion, his anger, had to mean something, but since the man himself hadn’t bothered to make an appearance that lasted long enough for her to ask any questions, Claire hadn’t had a chance to talk to him. Still, it was rude to put Alan in that position, whether Simeon’s behavior was crazy-making or not.

“I’m surprised. Not often that ladies like you noticed people like me, let alone care about putting us on the spot,” Alan said.

“‘Ladies like me?’ What does that mean?” Claire said flatly, about to go on the defensive.

“Come on, Claire. I can see clear as day that you are a certain type, not accustomed to rubbing elbows with the likes of me,” he said.

“Is that what Simeon told you about me? That I’m some kind of rich girl or something?” Claire asked, barely able to speak the stupid nickname without choking on her anger.

Alan shrugged. “He didn’t tell me anything about you but your name and where to pick you up. But I can see what kind of lady you are with my own eyes.”

Claire didn’t bother to try to hide how much his words annoyed her. “Well, I’ll have you know, just like I’ve told Simeon and everyone else who bothers to ask, whatever you might think of me, however I might look, my life has not been easy, and everything I have I’ve worked for,” she said.

She lifted her head quickly, and then lowered it, for some reason thinking of the way Simeon had always laughed when she’d done that. He’d said she looked regal, like a queen preparing to behead a subject for some offense or another, but she’d never liked that. She was just like everyone else, and she’d hated giving Simeon ammunition for his image of her as a haughty rich girl.

“Sorry, Claire. I don’t mean to offend you. I’m just pointing out what I see.”

“So what do you see?”

“Claire,” Alan said, expression softening, “you’re a nice girl, kind. And he’s different with you around. Just take care of yourself, okay?”

After a moment, Claire nodded grudgingly.

Alan did the same and then carried the black bags to the dining area.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said.

“Okay,” she replied.

He gave her one last look and then exited the penthouse, and it was only after he’d gone that Claire realized he hadn’t answered her question.

Not that she blamed him. Simeon had probably threatened him with firing or worse if he answered any of Claire’s questions, and she knew most people wouldn’t have gone beyond their jobs and been as nice to her as Alan had, so Claire decided she wouldn’t make trouble for him.

She’d handle Simeon herself, ask her questions directly.

Assuming, of course, he ever showed up again and stayed longer than the time it took him to wring pleasure from her body. And with Simeon, that never took long.

Claire glanced around the empty, cold apartment, one that felt that much colder and emptier now that she was again alone, and her gaze landed on the bags.

Absent anything else to do, she walked toward the bags and retrieved the first, curious as to what could be inside of it.

She peered inside and found a box.

The box was black like the bag, heavy, and for some reason Claire held it gingerly, not wanting to damage it. She carried it over to the love seat and then gently lowered it to the floor. Maybe tomorrow she’d have Alan take her to get a table. She’d done some work, but the place was still mostly empty. It was reasonable enough, she told herself. She wasn’t settling in, getting comfortable. She just needed to make the place livable if she was going to be spending time here.

But as she sat, those thoughts faded too and she focused on the box. She lifted the lid slowly, and the first thing she saw was what looked like red tissue paper with a gold pin holding the edges together. However, when Claire touched it, instead of the crinkle of paper, she felt smooth, rich fabric and realized that the red material was something like silk.

When she lifted the gold pin from the fabric, it was heavy, thick, and Claire ran her hands over it, pausing on the subtle emblem that had been etched into it, which was the same as the one on the outside of the bag. The packing materials were nicer than any gift she had ever received, and she couldn’t help but wonder what was contained in something so fine.

Claire moved slowly, almost worshipfully, and though she couldn’t say why this seemed so monumental, her heart was pounding and her lungs pulled tight with anticipation. She pulled the edges of the red silk apart slowly. She’d always done that with her presents, opened them slowly, meticulously, to draw out the moment. And though she knew she’d never received a present quite like this, that same ritual felt right for this moment.

As the item held in the red was revealed, she breathed out hard, the anticipation building into something else with each moment that passed.

The only thing she saw was gold, a bright and rich color that was sparked brighter by stray rays of fading sunlight that hit it. The color was breathtaking and she didn’t think she’d ever seen anything like it or the dress that she lifted from the box. Dress was probably too simple a word for what this was. The item was something else, seemed from a different world. The golden threads were woven together to create an otherworldly garment, a dress meant for a goddess.

She laid it against herself, trying to imagine her soft, short, pudgy body in it. Was this some kind of joke? Did Simeon want her to make a fool of herself by making her wear this dress that clearly wasn’t intended for someone like her?

Anger, hot and vivid and throbbing, shot through her and made her motions jerky. Still holding the beautiful dress tightly, she began pulling her clothes off, stripping down to her underwear and then angrily pulling the dress on. It fit her like a glove, and as the beautiful garment lay against her skin, her anger went even higher.

She stomped across the gleaming floor and went to the bathroom, wanting to see what Simeon was trying to foist on her, how foolish he wanted to make her look. When she reached the opulent bathroom, for the first time ignoring the incredibly high-end fixtures, she matched across the floor and didn’t stop until she stood in front of the full-length mirror that occupied the far corner.

The reflection that met her when she gazed into the mirror was entirely new. She’d thought the long dress would swallow her and make her look even shorter and that the crisscross sweep of the bodice would make her breasts look too big and her stomach too prominent.

She’d been completely wrong.

The length of the dress and the sexy but subtle slit in it exposed enough of her leg to be interesting but not too revealing. And the dress pooled behind her and gave her something of the regal feeling Simeon liked to say she gave off. The rest of the dress was no less stunning. Rather than making her look too round, the bodice lifted her breasts beautifully and skimmed away from her stomach to make her look sexy. Almost beautiful. Not at all Claire.

Her anger cooled and was replaced with a low, throbbing pulse of desire. She walked back to the living room, the golden fabric sliding against her skin like a lover’s caress. When she reached the other bags, she opened them quickly, unable to go slowly with the need that had sprung up inside her. One box contained a beautiful bra and the other the matching panties.

Both were perfect complements to the dress, and when she looked in the final box, Claire found a matching pair of golden heels, a lighter color than the dress, but still a perfect match.

A goddess. He’d bought her the clothes of a goddess, and perhaps, Claire allowed herself to think for a moment, that was how he saw her. Not as Claire, an ex that he held a grudge against for some reason, but as a beautiful, desirable woman who could wear such beautiful garments.

A smile spread across her face before she could stop it.

As soon as Simeon arrived, she’d give him her perfect thank-you.

Claire settled in to wait.

“
A
nd that’s satisfactory
?” Nathaniel Eaton said.

“It’s fine,” Simeon bit out, not bothering to look up.

“Really?” Nathaniel replied.

“Yes, fine!” Simeon snapped, finally meeting Nathaniel’s eyes.

The other man stared back at him, his usual bored disinterest chased away for the moment by amusement. Rare for Nathaniel, who’d perfected the facade of disinterested scion of old money. Simeon knew better, though. Beneath that facade, Nathaniel was as sharp as they came, though that fact was something he usually hid from everyone, including Simeon.

Simeon had met Nathaniel during those early years when he’d been building his fortune, and Nathaniel had been one of the few who had treated Simeon with something other than scorn or indifference. Over time, they’d built as close to a friendship as Simeon had had since he was a kid.

Nathaniel laughed. “What’s her name?”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Nate?” Simeon growled.

“You just agreed to take a cross-country strip-club tour with me, and your head has been in the clouds all day. I can’t think of anything else that would distract you so thoroughly,” he said.

Simeon shrugged nonchalantly, but he knew he’d been caught. “I thought you had taken that tour already,” he said, trying to redirect Nathaniel, who counted relentless manwhoring as one of his few life passions.

His friend wasn’t so easily swayed. “I have. Twice, and you’ve never agreed to come along. Give me the name, Hayes.”

Simeon stood and began prowling his office, the restlessness a side effect of not having seen Claire in hours. Or maybe it was the fact that the time and space it had practically killed him to keep between them hadn’t lessened his desire a bit. He wanted to spend every second with her, but he kept himself away as much as he could, though each moment that passed between the time he left her and the time he returned seemed like torture.

“It’s nothing,” Simeon said.

Nathaniel stood as well, a wolfish grin on his face. “Yeah, right. I hope I get to meet her one day,” he said.

“No fucking way,” Simeon growled as he turned to square up in front of Nathaniel. Friend or no, Nate never missed an opportunity to flirt with a beautiful woman, and Simeon knew he wouldn’t be able to resist Claire. He doubted his friend would cross the line, but even the thought of Nate’s relentless, if ultimately harmless flirting set Simeon’s teeth on edge.

A glance at Nathaniel proved Simeon had been had. Simeon was off his game, and badly, to have fallen for Nathaniel’s obvious ploy. He gave what he hoped passed for a smile.

“It’s nothing,” he finally said.

Nathaniel slapped him on the shoulder. “Right. Nothing. Let me know when you’re back to normal because I’m holding you to that trip.”

His friend left, laughter trailing behind him, and when Simeon was alone he lowered himself back into his chair.

Normal? Would he ever experience that again? He stayed away from Claire as much as he could, but to no good end. He was preoccupied with thoughts of her every single moment, and the more he stayed away, the more he wanted her. And thinking of her in that dress that had been made for her didn’t help his resolve.

This was fucking ridiculous. He’d limited himself to the late hours of night and then left before he gave in to the urge to linger, but that had done nothing to calm his raging hard-on or his swirling thoughts. So maybe it was time to see her again and take advantage of the time he had left.

T
hree hours later
, Claire sat in the same spot, her earlier good spirits a distant memory.

She hadn’t heard from Simeon.

Not a phone call.

No e-mails. No carrier pigeons.

Nothing.

And as embarrassing as it was, she had missed him.

It hadn’t even been a day, but she missed him. She’d gotten ahead of herself and had let herself think that because he’d had the dress delivered, he’d soon follow. Now, though, she wondered why she’d thought such a thing. Simeon had laid the terms of this arrangement out completely, and there was nothing in those terms that allowed room for her expectations.

She’d tried to keep that in the forefront of her mind, but when he had come to her after that first night, held her in the darkness, she could almost believe that they were as they had been, that
he
was as he had been in that magic time they’d had together.

And each time he came to her after had only strengthened that feeling. Every night with him had made it harder and harder to remember what this was. That he never stayed should have been enough to remind her, but his touch, the warmth that had filled her as she’d looked at herself in the dress he’d chosen, made her forget.

All these hours later, though, and she was beginning to remember.

She was a toy, something to be played with and disregarded at his whim. Hours ago, she’d wanted to see him, had thought that seeing him would give her confirmation that what she’d thought was growing between them was real.

Now, however, she was being reminded that she was still the same fool she had always been, an idiot for believing that Simeon was anything other than a selfish, rude jerk.

She looked over at the boxes that held the dress and accessories she had finally removed. She’d gone back to them often, loving to look at them and touch them, mind taken with the thought of Simeon touching her as she wore them. But now, instead of happiness, she felt anger.

Goddess? Ha! Simeon thought her some spoiled socialite, one he wanted to dress up.

Well, she wasn’t either of those things. She also wasn’t here for Simeon’s amusement. She paused. Well, technically, she guessed she was, but that didn’t mean she had to sit around pining for him, twiddling her thumbs as she waited, or pacing the floor for lack of anything else to with the anger that simmered.

She wanted out of this stupid penthouse.

Screw it. She was leaving.

Claire looked at the bags again, and then she smiled. And she had the perfect wardrobe for afternoon and potentially evening adventure. Smiling, she changed into the dress and underwear and then slipped the shoes onto her feet. She felt decadent, excited, and more than a little naughty, which only confirmed that she was doing the right thing.

She stopped, but when she realized she didn’t have a purse or cell phone to worry about, she left the penthouse. Her heels clicked along the floor of the foyer as she headed to the elevator, and after she’d gotten in, her excitement built with each floor that passed.

“Ma’am,” the doorman said as he held the main lobby door of the building open.

“Thank you,” Claire said, suddenly feeling shy.

In her exuberance, she hadn’t thought about the fact that others would see her. She must have been a sight, dressed like she was going to… well, she wasn’t exactly sure where one would wear this particular dress, but wherever that was, it wouldn’t start in late afternoon.

The doorman, bless him, didn’t bat an eyelash, though she supposed that with Simeon and the other wealthy elite who lived in this building, he’d probably seen it all. That thought of all the women who’d probably paraded out of this building stiffened her spine and gave her the push she needed to continue. She pulled her shoulders back and walked through the door as if it were the most natural thing.

When she emerged from the building, it was disorienting, strange to be outside of confines of the penthouse on foot. Whenever she’d left, it had been to go directly to the garage and into the SUV, where Alan would deposit her directly in front of her destination. This was different, though, being on the street and not confined in the bubble of a backseat. But with each step, her spirits lifted. She felt conspicuous and the quizzical, and few appreciative gazes she got only intensified sensation.

At first, she tugged at the dress, trying to arrange it so that she was covered, but soon, she tossed caution to the wind and let her hands fall to her sides. Then she walked, no destination in mind but feeling more powerful than she could ever remember.

Though the dress was not at all appropriate for late-afternoon roaming across the city, and the shoes definitely weren’t, Claire got lost in it all. She wandered until she found a small shopping district by the harbor, and as night fell, she walked through the small shops.

She paused when she saw a small folding table that had been hand-decorated with stones. There was a small cactus atop it, and Claire knew instantly it would be perfect for the penthouse and would give the stern brittleness of the pretty but hollow surroundings some life.

“Do you like it, miss?”

Claire jumped and turned to the older woman who sat behind a small glass display case that held more turquoise pieces.

“It’s beautiful. Did you make it?” Claire asked.

“Yes. I made everything in the shop,” the woman replied.

“Wow! You’re very talented,” Claire said.

“Thank you.” The woman’s eyes lit up. “Have it.”

Claire shook her head. “No. I couldn’t,” she said.

“Please. I insist,” the woman said.

“Why?” Claire asked.

“I saw the way your eyes lit up when you saw it. That table belongs with you,” she said.

Claire looked back to the table, tempted, but then she shook her head. “I can’t. I’ll come back, though.”

The woman nodded, and after a few more minutes of conversation, Claire left the shop. It wasn’t until she noticed how dark it was that she realized how long she had been out. For a split second she worried that Simeon might be back at the penthouse waiting for her.

And then she decided she didn’t care and continued to wander through the small shops that she passed. Claire had seen Simeon every day, but she hadn’t really
seen
him, interacted with him in any way that wasn’t physical. Maybe it wasn’t fair or smart or even sane of her to want that, but she did. However, she was smart enough to know that wouldn’t change today, so she would enjoy her time out and not feel guilty about it.

A half hour later, she turned back toward the building. Her mind had told her to stay out and enjoy her time outside. Her feet told her to her to get to the nearest chair, and practicality won out. Hurt feelings or not, it was time to get out of these heels. She was glad she’d come out, though. The time had been necessary, and if nothing else, she didn’t feel quite so on edge anymore. And better yet, if Simeon decided to show his face, she’d be able to handle him with a clear mind and hopefully not give him a glimpse into how his absences had gotten to her.

The streets were still fairly crowded and active, and she felt safe, but about three blocks away from the penthouse, an ominous feeling came over her, almost like she was being watched. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a huge, familiar, presidential-looking black SUV. It rolled behind her slowly, inching along with each of her steps, completely ignoring the traffic that built behind it and the angry drivers who honked and yelled.

Claire didn’t recognize the man who drove the SUV, but she had no doubt as to the vehicle’s occupant.

The SUV rolled to a stop beside her and her suspicions were confirmed when the window rolled down.

His voice came out low, angry, but she still heard it over the sounds of the street.

“I told you to be waiting for me, Claire.”