Making Him Want It 2 -- Callie's Secret: Conning the Billionaire (2 page)

Gordon and Alexandra
met while she was on the job, and he was under cover. 
He tried to turn her
as a federal
witness;
she toyed with him and
ultimately
seduced him.  She turned him
into a criminal
, since she was never going to go the straight and narrow, and he
fell
instantly and deeply in love with her.  She helped him to just disappear, and about a year later I was born
.

The rest is history.

I had the grift and covert opps in my blood.  And my acting technique was better than Jody Foster’s…so why was I letting my real thoughts slip through?

And then it hit me: Me, the real me, wanted Gabriel Sinclair just as much as the fa
k
e me.

Shit, shit, double shit!

I sat back and took a real long, good look at what I was actually feeling when I thought
about
Gabriel Sinclair.

He was gorgeous…
shit, shit, shit!

He was good in bed…really, very good…
shit!

And when I was near him I felt like the most beautiful woman in the world…

Fuck!

I had it bad for a mark.  What was I
, an
amateur?

I tried to think
rationally.  Maybe I’d spent too long in deep cover with this job.  It had been over a month, and I’d never done that before.  Especially since m
ost
of our jobs were wet works and
government assassinations. 

Or maybe I’d hit my head to
o
hard last night in that blasted broom closet!

Yeah, that could be it.  Maybe I was concussed?

The memories of the broom closet came into focus, and I groaned.  I would have done anything he’d wanted…anything to please him…

I sat down on my couch and
dropped
my head in my hands…I was so fucking screwed.

*****

Gabriel called at five minutes to six, and told me he wouldn’t be picking me up, but that there was a car downstairs waiting to
bring
me to him.

“Do I really need my passport?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said laconically.

“Should I bring a change of clothes?” I glanced at the overnight bag I had by the door.

“If you like.  But we can buy whatever you need as we go.”

“And where would that be, exactly?”

I could practically hear him smile.  “That’s a question…to be answered later.” 

And he hung up on me.

“Bastard.”  But I was smiling.

Gabriel Sinclair was worth one hundred and twenty billion dollars as of two months ago, when the boys and I accepted the contract.  It wasn’t at all
an
unusual contract…except that we were never given an exact target or goal.  We were to unearth whatever it was that Gabriel Sinclair was hiding from the world.

As far as we knew he was a closet cross dresser, or maybe he had an evil twin that like
d
sushi and M/M leather orgies.

We were told that the secret would be of the dangerous variety, and that he would probably guard it with great prejudice. 

And in a month of thorough, soul-draining research and reconnaissance, we’d found very little about the ambiguous Mr. Sinclair.  One thing we did glean was that he was in very good shape, that he surrounded himself with some of the best talent money could buy…especially in the security department. 

And, of course, he was an avid reader and frequented Halcyon Books.  Thus I created my Callie Thornton identity, got a job clerking at the used book store, and then proceeded to infiltrate Gabriel Sinclair’s life.

The hardest part had been figuring out what books he liked best, and then actually reading them.

Don’t get me wrong, I love reading, and books are great…but give me my
K
indle and a John Locke thriller and I’m
all set for the evening.  I like Carl Hiaasen and some James Paterson
(
especially when they’re written with Michael Ledwi
dge
) and sometimes I can even be persuaded to try some urban fantasy—Jim Butcher is a favorite.

But I have never been able to get through anything written before 1980.

Everything
I know about Austin and Bronte I learned from Google and Netflix.

So I shouldn’t have been all that surprised that Gabriel had the juice to have the town car that was transporting me to him take me directly onto the tarmac and drop me off mere feet from the jet’s boarding stairs.

And what a jet!  A custom gulfstream gleaming and new, with probably more cabin space than Air Force One.
  I actually felt a little
intimidated
as I ascended the step
s
and entered the plane, the driver directly behind me, carrying my ca
r
ry-on.

But once we were on board, things got a little strange. 
Gabriel was sitting in a
swivel chai
r, flipping through a manila file folder, his expression dire. 

The woman standing in front of him was quite the specimen.  She was taller than almost every man in the room, but seemed thin and delicate through the shoulders.  She was pale as ice cold milk, and her face was as expressionless as a white board.  But she did have a few facial piercings, a tattoo scrolled up her neck, and
had
a pitch back Mohawk that made her look unsettlingly like a mix between The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and a professional wrestler.

She glanced at me and I saw absolutely no emotion in her face or in her eyes.  She had the blandest face I’d ever seen.  And just that glance scared the shit out of me.  Not that I didn’t think I could take her, I just didn’t like the unknown.  And an icy expression like hers went a long way to making me snuggle up with the paranoia.

But then she moved: reaching forward to take the file folder back from Gabriel, and then turning to walk towards the front of the plane. 
Just the way she moved, t
hat’s what told me she was a pro, well trained and very dangerous.

This day was getting better and better.

Shit…
I wasn’t on the plane more than a minute and I’d already fallen out of character.

Breathe…just breathe.

I looked to Gabriel again and saw a faraway look flicker in his eyes, but it dissipated so quickly it could have meant anything. He turned in his seat and leveled a gaze on me that could have melted titanium…or frozen it on the spot.

He got up and strode towards me faster than I would’ve thought possible, and without even a hello grabbed hold of my arm and started dragging me toward the back of the plane. 
His grip was hard enough it hurt, and he was showing some of that surprising strength again.  I had to tamp down the urge to pull my arm out of his grasp.

I’m book-worm wall-flower Callie Thornton.  All I can do is gasp and get pissy.  Priority number one is to get him to trust me, and to do that I’ve got to be consistent about what I show him.

A Literature/Library Sciences major working as an underpaid clerk in a used bookstore would not know how to pull free of a grown man’s steel-like grasp.  She also wouldn’t know exactly how much extra pressure it would take to dislocate said grown man’s shoulder.

I let him drag me to a door—a regular looking door.  I was impressed they had such a thing on a plane.  He pulled it open and shoved me in ahead of him.  I was suddenly on edge over what the hell was going on, but I channeled that nervousness into fear.  Callie Thornton would be afraid right about now.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded, my voice shaking but definitely angry.  Okay, anger wasn’t far from fear.  Still believable.

Gabriel moved upon me swiftly, wrapping his arms around me as he pulled me in for a kiss.  I stiffened, but as his lips rubbed against mine, and his tongue invaded my mouth, I fell against him. This was just what I wanted…it was all I wanted.  To touch him, to have him touching me…to have him kissing me…

He pulled my top off, and stripped my pants off.  I kicked off my shoes to help.  It was all going so fast.  Gabriel stood back for a moment, taking in the sight of me in my blue satin undies. 

“Nice,” he growled right before he started kissing me again.

And the
n
I felt cold steel clamp over my right wrist.  Callie Thornton wouldn’t know what was happening, but I sure did.  The billionaire was trying to handcuff me.  Handcuffs were used to immobilize your opponent.  In the sex trade they were the ultimate show of trust.  I didn’t trust anyone enough to let them
bind me, not even with scarves…metal was out of the question.

But I had a job, a naïve cover identity, and something inside me actually wanted to be vulnerable to him, at his mercy.

I gulped and made a pathetic little gasp as he clicked the other cuff on my free wrist.

And there it was, I was handcuffed and vulnerable…and for the first time in my entire life that was a turn on.

“Gabriel…” I looked up into his eyes, letting the panic from before flow into erotic excitement.

He placed a finger over my lips and pressed, making a quiet shushing sound.  He moved around me and ran his hands over my mostly nude body, making my skin turn to goose flesh. 

“I’m going to keep you from freaking out about you fear of heights,” he said in a low husky voice.  “And it might take the whole flight to do it.”

I cringed.  I’d forgotten about being afraid of heights.  Not that it had been much of a stretch.  I’d been afraid of them as a child, but both my mother and father had been great about it, explaining that I needed to work past that fear when I was young, or it would become overwhelming in the future.  I’d believed them, and had systematically faced that fear at every conceivable level: from ladders to climbing trees, rock climbing, base jumping, parachuting from a plane.  You name it.
  But it had been easier than I’d thought to call up that old fear last night.

But now I was supposed to be back in character, and I couldn’t even bring a shiver up my spine, and we were about to launch into thin air, held thousands of feet in the air by meager physics and a couple wings and an engine.

I was so off my game.

But Gabriel didn’t seem to notice.  His breath was hot against my neck, and he pressed his lips against my neck, making a small, hungry sound.

His
arms
encircled me, and his hands ran down my arms until he had a hold of my wrists.  He gently pulled them upward
—
I hesitate
d
a moment, pulling them out of his grasp just long enough to swipe my hand through my hair.  He grabbed them again, and this time put some muscle behind pulling my arms up over my head.

I heard another click, and knew immediately what he’d done.  He had some kind of hook attached to the ceiling of the plane.  I looked up to find a climb
ing clip
connecting the handcuffs to a length of chain that disappeared into the ceiling.  Gabriel held up a small remote control and the sounds of an automated
winch
ground for a few beats.  I felt my arms being raised higher and higher, until I was standing uncomfortably on the balls of my feet.

Okay, so Gabriel was into bondage.  That wasn’t all that uncommon amongst the rich and famous.  What did
make me think twice was that he’d set up this room as a sort of BDSM dungeon.  That meant forethought, and that he
’d
probably d
one
this kind of thing before.  Many times before.

How twisted was this guy?

That thought got me to shiver.  I could handle a little slap and tickle action, but if he wanted to inflict anything that would be permanent…he was going to get a wakeup call.

And I was totally going to blow my cover.

I took a deep breath and made it sound like a sob.

Gabriel made that shushing sound again, this time running his hands down over my extended arms, and down over my breasts, then my ribs and belly, and finally dipped his fingers into my panties.  I struggled a little—not sure if that was me or the cover—and made another sobbing noise as he grazed his fingers over the tender flesh of my sex.

I was
shaking and
breathing heavily when he pushed some of his fingers up into me, and started strumming my clit like an acoustic guitar.

Oh god…

My hips moved back and I felt his body, hard and unforgiving against my ass.  Hard and aroused too.

I writhed against him as he pushed and pulled at my twitching opening.  With barely any effort he’d brought me to sexual attention, and had me already winding up for my first orgasm.  This wasn’t fair.  No one was that good.