Stingray Billionaire: The Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (8 page)

“Oh come on,” I say.
“Don’t you get that I like you too, that this is all just a bit overwhelming
for someone like me? The only time I’ve even seen millionaires was that time
Naomi and a friend of hers dragged me to an NBA
game,
and then you come into the shop where I work and ask me out. It’s a lot to take
in, you know?”

“Would
you rather I weren’t as successful as I am?” he asks.

“I’m not saying that,” I
tell him. “I’m just saying that … I’m just saying …”

His eyes
fixate
on mine, and he’s turned toward me, his
left arm resting on the back of the couch. The next thing I know, his left arm
is around
me,
and I’m kissing his
beautiful lips.

He
grunts,
and I pull back, already in the middle
of an apology. Before I get too far, though, he holds up a hand and says, “I
was about to spill my drink.” Nick leans forward,
sets
his martini on the coffee
table,
and now he’s kissing me.

I naturally lean back,
pulling him with me until my shoulders come to rest between the armrest and the
back of the couch. While I may have made the first move, at least physically,
he seems more than happy to take it from there.

Nick kisses my neck,
whispering, “You’re beautiful,” and I’m covering my mouth to prevent the laugh
from escaping me.

He glances up, but I tell
him, “Don’t worry about it.” His lips meet mine again.
This whole thing is just crazy.

I look over
at
the clock on the wall to see how much time
we have before Naomi gets home, but before my mind can process the numbers, I’m
closing my eyes. She said she’d be gone all night. I need to stop worrying all
the time.

Nick pulls back and my
eyes open again. He says, “This is a bit sudden, don’t you think?”

He doesn’t know what I’ve
been thinking about in the shower over the past couple of days, or else he
might have a different opinion.

“I need you to tell me
something,” I say.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“Is this just a sexual
thing, or are you looking for something more?” I ask.

“More,” he says, “always
more.”

“Always?” I ask. “I don’t
know. I’ve put up a pretty good fight here, and I can’t help feeling like I’m
letting myself down a little.”

He has to be frustrated,
but he doesn’t let it show.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s
talk about it.”

“See,” I say, “that’s the
thing. I don’t feel like talking. I just need to know that you’re not going to
up and leave if something were to happen
between
us.”

“What do you mean?” he
asks.

“You know,” I answer, my
voice soft enough he’s leaning in to hear me, “sexually.”

“Nothing has to happen
tonight,” he says. “I’m sure after a while, we may want to talk about it a bit
more, but I’m not going to—”

I pitch forward, kissing
him hard on the lips. A second later, he’s the one leaning back into the couch.

My arms are tight around
him, and I’m on top of him now as he adjusts his position. When he settles, I
lower my hips and I can feel the proof of his attraction as my center comes to
rest on his.

Nick is running his hands
up and down my back and for once in my life, I stop thinking about all the
what-ifs. I just give myself over to him.

I lean back a little and
start unbuttoning his shirt. Nick brushes the hair out of my face and rests his
hand on my cheek as he looks up at me.

With Nick’s
shirt
now unbuttoned, I part the front to
reveal his tan, muscular upper body. I kiss his chest as he starts tugging at
the bottom of my wonderfully short dress.

I start working my way
down his chest, over his firm abs and all the way down to the top of his
pants. Taking a deep breath in, I unfasten the button
and pull down the zipper.

Nick’s
erection is barely hindered by the fabric of his boxers, and he’s a good deal
bigger than I thought he’d be. I’m a bit nervous as I lift the waistband over
him.

Wrapping
my hand around his shaft, I kiss Nick’s tip. He lets out a pleasured sigh, and
I swirl my tongue over his flared ridge.

Finally
gathering my courage, I relax my jaw and take him into my mouth.

He’s
hard, pulsing in my mouth, and I’m looking up at him. It appears like he’s all
right with the fact I can’t fit all of him in my mouth at once. Judging by the
way his eyes are rolled back in his head, I’d say he’s more than all right.

I work
my lips back to the tip of his shaft, making a loud smacking sound as the
suction breaks, and I give Nick a wicked smile while my hand grips and slips
over his shaft.

“Come
here,” he says, and I crawl over him again until he’s pulling my head down
toward him, kissing me deeply.

Nick’s
hands around me now, he unfastens my bra, the cold air of the air conditioner
hitting my skin. Nick’s face turns a deeper shade, and he lifts his head to
kiss my breasts.

His lips
and his tongue are concentrated heat, and I’m so wet there’s nothing left for
me to do but slip off the tanga. So, I manage to leave Nick’s incredible touch,
though only for a second, and a moment later, I’m naked on top of him, my hand
going between his legs.

“Are you
sure you’re ready for something like this?” he asks. “You’ve been pretty
reserved—”

“I think
I’ll be all right,” I tell him.

He
doesn’t argue as I run the tip of him against my waiting pussy.

For a
moment, I press him against my clit. “We should probably go to the bedroom,
though,” I tell him.

“Naomi’s
not on her way home, is she?” he asks.

“No,” I
answer. Kissing him on the lips, I whisper, “But that’s where the condoms are.”

The
whole way to the bedroom, Nick’s hands are on my hips or cupping my breasts.
When we get to the doorway, he bends down, works an arm under my knees, another
under my arm, and he picks me up and carries me into the room.

I giggle
and kiss him, and he lays me down on the bed before him. For a few seconds, I
lie here, bare and open, and he gazes over my body.

The most
difficult part about being woefully insecure is not letting him know it. It’s
been a long time since I’ve been with anyone.

“Where
are they?” he asks, his eyes now focused between my legs with such intensity
I’d swear I can feel it.

In my
sexiest, most casual way, I point to my dresser, saying, “Top drawer.”

I may
have been in the dry spell to end all dry spells, but that doesn’t mean a girl
doesn’t hold out some hope.

Nick
grabs the box and opens it. He takes a condom from inside and comes back over
to the bed as he opens it.

“Here,”
I say, holding out my hand.

He gives
me the condom, and I move into a halfway decent position to put it on him.
Placing the condom over him, I kiss his chest and his stomach.

Now
properly sheathed, Nick tells me to lie back. I do, and he leans forward and
puts himself between my legs, hesitating a moment at my opening before sliding
himself inside of me.

My mouth
is open, but I can’t speak. I can hardly breathe.

He goes
slow, easing himself in, bit by bit. Once he’s covered in my dripping juices,
though, the tempo steadily increases.

My legs
are hanging over the side of the bed, and Nick is bending down to deliver
dozens of eager kisses to my lips, my neck, my breasts.

I’d
close my eyes if I didn’t think I’d wake up.

Nick
lifts my legs, so my feet rest against his chest, and I almost feel like a
virgin again, only this time, there’s no blinding pain.

He’s so
deep in me now, and I’m writhing in delight on the bedspread as he enters me
again and again. Right as I’m getting to where I feel like my body can’t
contain all of the pleasure he’s giving me, though, I hear a door somewhere
else in the apartment open and close.

My eyes
go wide.

“Hold
on,” I whisper.

He
stops. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Did you
hear that?” I respond.

“Yeah,
it sounds like Naomi just got in,” he answers. “Why?”

“Yeah,
she knows you’re here, and she’s not above walking in here, pulling up a chair
and asking you if you know Benedict Cumberbatch while we’re having sex,” I tell
him.

“I’ve
met the guy, but I wouldn’t say I know him,” Nick answers. When I don’t laugh,
though, he nods, saying, “All right. There’s plenty of time.”

We
barely manage to cover up before I hear the sound of Naomi picking my lock.

Chapter Six

Reverb

Nick

“Mr.
Scipio, you know we all trust your vision, but what are you doing?” Cal, the
only member of the board not to have called to bitch at me before now, says.
“We can set up an office anywhere, but the world is in New York. You’ve got to
get back here.”

“Is
anything going wrong, or are you just wetting yourself thinking it might?” I
ask. I like to think of myself as a good man, but in the world where I live,
kindness is almost always mistaken for weakness. Of course, in that world, most
of the time kindness
is
a weakness,
so who knows?

Cal
sighs. “Do you have an idea when you might be heading back?” he asks.

Across
the presidential suite, Ellie’s slipping out of her bathrobe and into her
regular clothes. I probably should have offered to have them cleaned or have
one of my many assistants run out and get her some new ones. We haven’t left
the room in almost a week.

“To be
honest with you, Cal, I think I might just stay here for the duration,” I
answer.

“You
can’t do this, Nikolai,” Cal says. “You’re risking the company on a pipe dr—”

I hang
up the phone.

“Everything
all right?” Ellie asks as she slips back into the same dress she was wearing
when we had to sneak out of her apartment a few nights ago to avoid Naomi.

Ellie
wasn’t kidding about her sister, either. The woman didn’t knock or even say
anything before she picked the lock and showed herself into Ellie’s room.
Getting out of there wasn’t easy.

“Yeah,”
I answer. “I’ve got to head down to the office for a little while, though.
Apparently, people are starting to notice I haven’t been around that much the
last few days.”

“Hey,
don’t look at me,” she says. “I just suggested we get out of the apartment.
You’re the one who said we should come here.”

I smile.
“I think we’re both to blame,” he says. “Not that blame is the word I’d use
here. Although
you’re
the one who
wrote that sign and put it up on the door.”

“Sign?”
she asks, looking around. “What sign?”

I groan.
“The one that says, ‘Do not disturb or you’re fired’?” I ask.

She
claps her hands together, laughing.

“Why do
you get such a kick out of hearing me say that?” I ask.

She’s
still tittering as she says, “I’m not sure, to tell you the truth. It’s
probably something to do with you actually being able to threaten people with
something like that and the fact that, in some small way, I managed to snag a
bit of your power for my amusement.”

“The
power not to be disturbed,” I say and snicker. “You know, I was going to make a
joke there, but that’s a magnificent idea.”

“All
right,” she sighs.

“We’re
still on for dinner tonight, right?” I ask.

She’s
eyeing me like she thinks it’s a trick question. Slowly, she says, “Yes.”

“Great,”
I tell her as I’m getting my shoes on. “I can’t wait. If you need anything, you
know where I am. If you get hungry, give a call down to room service and,” I
say, finishing tying my shoes, “I’ll be back later.”

“Have a
good day at work, dear,” she says. “I’ll stay here with the kids.”

I smile
and shake my head, and I’m out the door.

As soon
as the latch clicks behind me, my heart starts pounding. I held back when I was
on the phone because Ellie was in the room, but the truth is I’ve been
incommunicado long enough things are starting to get missed.

Don’t
get me wrong, as far as I’m concerned, it’s worth it. All the same, though, if
I don’t get us back on the right course, we’ll start losing real money. We
start losing real money, and people are going to lose their jobs.

I get
down to the ground floor of the hotel to find the conference room in upheaval.
People aren’t speaking into phones; they’re yelling at them.

The
tents around the edges of the room are gone, and in their place are makeshift
plywood offices. At the moment, they don’t look much better than the tents, but
at least we won’t have to worry about someone tripping over a pole and
de-officing someone anymore.

It had
happened six times before I insisted on a change.

“Sir!”
Malcolm, head of the Mulholland Project, says. “We’ve lost another twelve
points. We need some decisions or things are going to start unraveling.”

“They
already are,” I tell him. “Twelve points?” I ask.

“Since
the market opened,” Malcolm says. “People are losing confidence because you’re
…” He starts scratching at the back of his neck with such force I almost expect
to see blood on his hand when he brings it back around.

“Because
I’m here and not in New York,” I say. “Okay, do we have any projections on how
bad this is going to get?”

“It’s
hard to say with any certainty,” he says, “but the longer you’re here, unable
or unwilling to take meetings back home, the line’s just going to keep going
down.”

“Yeah,”
I say. “Do me a favor and schedule me a flight back there sometime next week.”

“Next
week, sir?” Malcolm asks.

“Yeah,”
I answer. “After that, I want you to give a call to your friend in the times
and let him know Daddy’s coming home soon. That should stop the hemorrhaging,
at least.”

“Got
it,” Malcolm says and walks away. “You don’t want to take the private jet?”

I smile.
“I think I’ll start using that when it’s a necessity and not for every trip,” I
tell him.

I get
about two more steps into the room before Marly from my legal team stops me,
saying, “We’re having a hard time getting around the board on the final plans
for the new headquarters.”

“I have
a majority vote,” I respond. “What’s the problem?”

“They’re
calling your capacity to remain as CEO into question,” she says.

“Anything
I should worry about?” I ask.

“Not
yet,” she answers. “Still, we can’t keep them in the dark much longer or this
whole thing’s going in the loss column, and I don’t know how many of us are
going to survive something like that.”

“As long
as I’m here, you’re here,” I say. “You know that, Marly.”

“That’s
the problem, though,” she says. “If things don’t change, it won’t be long
until—”

“Find
Malcolm,” I tell her. “He should be about done booking my flight back to New
York.”

“You’re
going back?” she asks.

“Find
him,” I tell her.

I manage
to get to my desk without further interruption, but I don’t get a chance to
sit.

Malcolm’s
back already and Marly’s close behind him.

“Sir,”
he says, “I booked you a flight out of here on Tuesday morning.” I love that he
works that quickly. “It should put you back in New York by early afternoon.
There are some things we need to go over before anything else happens, though.”

“Marly?”
I ask.

She
looks up from the notepad she’s scribbling in and says, “I’ve got it, sir. I’ll
put in a quick call to my friend at the Post.”

“You’ve
already called the Times?” I ask Malcolm.

“Not
yet, sir,” he says. “I wanted to run a few things by you, first.”

“Could
it wait a few minutes?” I ask.

“I can’t
make the call until we speak, but yeah,” Malcolm says. “Just let me know when
you’ve got a free minute.”

He
starts to walk away. “Hold on,” I say.

“Yeah?”
Malcolm responds.

“Why
can’t you make the call until we talk? Marly just went to call hers,” I say.

“I
know,” Malcolm says. “The thing is, you know how Ambrose wanted that exclusive
into the acquisition of Middlemarch Tech?”

“With a
name like that, no wonder he went into writing,” I muse.

Malcolm
nods slowly, saying, “Yeah, anyway, he’s been breathing down my neck about
wanting an exclusive, and I don’t think he’s going to do us any more favors
until we give him something.”

“We are
giving him something,” I tell Malcolm.

“I don’t
think a personal interest piece regarding how you’re heading back to water the
plants is going to cut it, sir,” he says.

Me, I
don’t say anything. I just tilt my head to one side and raise my brow.

“Oh my
god,” he says, covering his mouth. “Sir, I didn’t mean it like that. I just
meant—”

“Swallow
your heart back into your chest,” I tell him. “Take a breath.”

His eyes
are still about as big as they are wide, but he takes a slow inhale.

“Okay,”
I tell him. “Now, what did you have in mind we should give him?” I ask.

“He’s
been trying to convince me to work out an interview with you, actually,”
Malcolm says. “I don’t know. Maybe we could fly him out here so he can see all
the progress we’ve made.”

“Yeah,
but the progress isn’t tangible yet,” I tell him. “We’ve worked out permits and
turned this hotel into Stingray’s mobile unit, but I don’t think a tour is
going to drive home the impression we’ve got everything under control. Call
your friend, tell him that I’ll sit down with him for fifteen minutes after I’m
back in New York a couple of days.”

“Great,
sir,” Malcolm says. “I’ll call him now.”

My cell
phone buzzes in my coat pocket, and it’s to my ear before the ringtone has a
chance to start. “Scipio,” I say.

There’s
no answer.

I look
down at the screen. It wasn’t a call; it was a text message. It’s from Ellie.

I’ll
have to save it for later, though, because the IT guy whose name I don’t think
I’ve ever heard is standing in my doorway.

“Excuse
me, sir?” he says. “I know you’re busy, but do you have a minute?”

“What do
you need?” I ask.

“Well,”
he says, “we’ve got the main display up and running the way you wanted, but
we’re having some trouble with the phone lines.”

“The
phone lines?” I ask. “You’re having trouble with the phone lines, so you come
to the CEO about it?”

It’s not
that I’m mean. I just never get tired of seeing grown men choke on air.

“I’m
very sorry, sir,” he says, “but Sandra told me you’d want to have some input.”

I sigh.
“What’s the problem?” I ask.

“The
phone lines work and everything, but this place is pretty old, and I think the
wiring is starting to go down,” he says. “The electrical seems fine, but we’ve
been dropping calls almost as fast as we can make them.”

“That
sounds like a pretty big problem,” I tell him.

“It is,”
he answers.

 
I shrug my shoulders and open my palms, so
they’re facing up. “Okay,” I say. “What did you want me to do about it?”

IT Guy
says, “If I could just get your go ahead to call someone from the phone
company—”

“Call,”
I say. “If there are problems with the phone lines, it makes sense to call
someone to get them taken care of. Is there anything else?”

“Not
just yet, sir,” he says. That means “Yes, but I need a valium first.”

IT Guy
leaves, but I wait a few seconds before bringing up my phone again to check my
messages. Ellie’s text reads, “Gonna head home for a bit, get some clothes,
maybe a shower, possibly some lube. I’m starting to get sore.”

On a
typical day, I like to treat my employees well while also making sure they fear
for their jobs at least once a week. Not all my employees, just the ones I
bring into my inner circle. I treat them well, but I don’t ever want to appear
too human in front of any of them. It hurts my credibility to be seen to have
things like empathy or a sense of humor.

Still,
when I get to the end of Ellie’s text, I know they can hear me laughing outside
my office. Even if the door were shut, the walls don’t go all the way to the
ceiling.

I cut
the laughter short as quickly as possible, but I know someone noticed. It may
sound like an exaggeration, but I’d bet anyone what I have in my pockets against
what they have in their pockets that laugh bites me in the ass before the end
of the day.

You
can’t have any sympathy for these people, or they’ll walk all over you. That’s
the joy of being the boss. You get to walk over everyone else.

For now,
at least, it looks like everyone’s holding back, so I just try to keep my mind
on work. It’s not long before I start seeing the fallout from my three-second
laugh, though.

Marly
comes to my door, saying, “Hey, I gave a call to Claude, and he says he’s going
to need something more than you’re heading back to New York. Are there any
scraps we can give him, boss?”

You have
to want to see it, but it’s right there at the end: My notification that
everything’s going to be twice as hard today.