The Billionaire's Pet (11 page)

“You blindsided me in there!” She hissed the words at him. “You fucked me, Daniel.”

“You fucked yourself,” he replied without any kind of sympathy. “I’ve been warning you about these changes since I got here. You deliberately kept yourself out of the loop. And it’s come back to bite you on the ass.”

“No, you bit me on the ass,” she said, furious. “You could have told me about this.”

“I have been doing nothing but trying to tell you,” he replied. “You’ve been too busy with your own little plots and schemes to pay attention. The entire presentation I just gave has been sitting on your desk for two weeks.”

“…Oh.”

Daniel’s moment of double triumph was interrupted by Stacy.

“Ms. Jones? The board members are asking to see you again. Privately.”

“Good,” she said, looking at Daniel. “Maybe now I can fix what you just fucked up.”

Ellie left Daniel in the office and made her way back to the boardroom. The moment she stepped through the doors, she knew that all was not well. The board members wore strained expressions, most of them avoiding eye contact as she stood at the end of the table and waited to hear what they had to say.

“We like Mr. Treville’s vision for the future,” the chairman opened. “It’s original, it’s forward thinking, and it involves diversity that will be good for the company long-term.”

“Mr. Treville’s plan may look good on PowerPoint, but in the real world, it’s very risky,” Ellie tried to explain. “There’s such a thing as being ahead of one’s time—and it’s not a good or profitable thing.”

“We don’t think he’s ahead of his time. We think you might be behind the times.”

Ellie stared at him. She was young, hot, driven. It was impossible for her to be described as anyway behind the times.

“Mr. Treville is almost two decades older than I am,” she pointed out. “I don’t think I’m behind the times.”

“Age isn’t everything, Ellie,” the chairman said. She detected a certain note of paternal condescension in his tone, which drove her wild. Before Daniel had walked in the doors, none of them would have dared speak to her that way. The balance of power had shifted, and Ellie did not like it one bit.

“Well, Todd, neither is sucking a billionaire’s dick just because he has a vision for bunnies and grass skirts.”

“Ms. Jones!” A sharp voice went up from the other side of the table, and a round of gasps greeted her crude comment.

“Well, you’re pathetic, the lot of you,” she continued. “I bet there’s not a single one of you who even remembers what he said. You’re so keen to get in bed with him you’d sell your grandmothers to him for organic fertilizer.”

She knew she should not be saying what she was saying. She knew the words she was directing at the suits in chairs were really meant for Daniel, but the floodgates had opened, the red mist had descended, and for the first time in her career, Ellie told each and every one of them what she truly thought. Every little tension, every buried slight, every nasty little comment she’d ever restrained came pouring out in one curse-laden tantrum, which did not end until she ran out of words and breath at the same time.

She felt dizzy and nauseous. The room was hazy and she heard the chairman’s voice as if it were coming from some place very far away. “All in favor of terminating Ms. Jones’ employment, say aye.”

“
Aye
!” The response seemed universal.

“Ms. Jones, you’ve performed a great service to the company, but the board has voted and we agree that it’s best if we terminate your contract. Mr. Treville has a greater grasp on the future of the company; his vision is something we’d like to be on board with.” The words were not harsh, but the delivery was cold as ice.

With tears misting her eyes, Ellie nodded and left. There was nothing she could say. She had just been ousted from her job. She did not return to her office. She already had her purse with her, which was all she needed, and all she’d be allowed to take from the company anyway.

She scuttled down the stairwell and took refuge in the privacy of her car, peeling out onto the city streets she had once felt some domain over, blending in with everyone else, a teeming rush of humanity that would serve well in hiding her from Daniel Treville.

Chapter Seven

Daniel was not pleased with Ellie. Moreover, he was not pleased with himself. He expected her to behave in a headstrong, perhaps even impulsive fashion, but he also expected to be able to anticipate her acting out before she did it. He had failed on both counts.

The truth was, he had not anticipated the board’s decision to fire her on the back of her tirade that had become instant company legend. The meeting had been recorded, parts of it uploaded to YouTube by one of the company’s now-0fired interns, where the sight of a cute executive going in on her colleagues was being shared for the amusement of many.

Of Ellie, there was no sign.

She’d gone without so much as a curse word or a terse email. He stood in her empty office, feeling her loss keenly. Things were running much more smoothly, but the lack of resistance wasn’t something he was enjoying.

It had not ever been his idea for the board to fire her. That was a development he had not seen coming, but he supposed he should have. His name alone made mountains move. Ellie had known the moment he walked in the door that her career was on the line. It had been her biggest fear, in fact, and he’d never really acknowledged that. Instead he’d treated her like something to be conquered. And now she was vanquished, gone, and he missed her more than he’d missed anyone.

He took out his phone and tried calling her, just as he’d done a dozen times already since she’d been fired a week earlier. The call went directly to voicemail.

“If this is Daniel Treville, go fuck yourself,” came her voice in lilting tones. “If it’s anyone else, please leave a message.”

“Quit sulking and return my call, brat,” he drawled down the line. “We need to talk.”

He hung up, knowing she wasn’t going to return his call. She’d gone to ground, and finding her wasn’t going to be easy.

Chapter Eight

Ellie was in her stall, quite naked, bound between several lengths of rope that kept her suspended entirely off the floor. A thick long blond tail hung between her thighs, the weight of it putting a steady pressure on her anus. It swished back and forth with every desperate motion of her hips.

Preparations had been made in advance, multiple lengths of black hemp rope along with several harnesses and of course, the tail that he had made her bend over and accept, parting her cheeks for him while he lubed her bottom and then penetrated it with a thick plug from which hung the tail.

The rope had been wound about her body with care and then she had been suspended from her bindings, which were hitched to several thick rings hung in the ceiling. Now she dangled with her legs bent at the knees, spread wide enough that he could easily slip his cock into her pussy if he so desired, her arms behind her back, her breasts presented proudly through a lattice of rope.

But it wasn’t really happening. It was just another daydream. That was all she had left now, daydreams of a life and a man that couldn’t seem more distant if they’d taken place in another lifetime.

Ellie was a very, very long way from home. After the humiliating termination of her career she had gone straight home, grabbed a bag of clothes, her phone, and her passport before heading to the airport and booking a ticket to Paris, France. Somewhere far enough away that she could be sure Daniel would not pop up around the corner, somewhere far enough away that her abysmal failure would not be thrown in her face. If she was going to have to be miserable somewhere, Paris was as good as any place to do it.

For the first week or two, she did nothing but immerse herself in the ambiance of the city, trying to forget everything that had happened back in New York. It was a futile effort. Somehow she still glimpsed his face among the crowds that thronged the streets. As time wore on, she began to settle a little. Paris was the perfect antidote to New York, a city in which art, love, and history took precedence over domination, money, and power.

Even though the decision to leave had been hers, she was grieving. Grieving the life she’d made for herself that was now in tatters, grieving the loss of the love she’d had for Daniel. All his power plays and perversions aside, she had come to care for him. Paris or New York, it didn’t much matter. A world without Daniel Treville was a very different place.

A month after the fateful day she’d lost her temper and thrown her life away, Ellie was sitting in a pavement café on the Rue Saint-Honoré when she finally got the nerve to check her messages. Most of them she skipped through immediately, the ones from people at the company who were ‘checking in’ by more or less gloating. Daniel’s voice was harder to ignore. Her thumb hovered over the button, but she let it play, hearing his dark voice growling down the line: “Call me, pet.”

A little tremor of desire ran through her loins, an urge she quickly tried to distance herself from. She reminded herself that he was a backstabbing traitor of a man who had tricked her into losing her job. She had to hold onto that thought, because thinking anything else meant that she’d screwed things up all on her own and had nobody to blame but herself. And it meant that not only had she gotten herself fired, she’d ruined things with the most eligible bachelor on Earth.

She doubted many people on the sunny Parisian street were feeling the same level of despair lurking around the fringes of their consciousness. As much as she tried to convince herself that it had all been someone else’s fault, she knew well enough that the only person responsible for anything in her life was herself. People had been trying to screw her over for years. She’d always managed to stay on top. But the moment Daniel had walked into her life it had all fallen apart.

So it was his fault, in a roundabout way. Or it was her fault, for letting him in, for getting distracted by the prospect of being loved.

Croissant crumbled between her fingers as she nervously toyed with the remains of her breakfast. What now? It seemed to her that her entire life had come to an abrupt standstill. She had worked so hard for so long that she barely knew herself out of an office. She was without a job, without a lover, without a purpose. She was as aimless as the little crumbs blowing around her plate at the whim of the playful breeze.

With no idea what to do about any of it, Ellie simply sat in the Parisian sun, drinking in the ambiance of Europe and putting off the time when she would have to do something about the predicament she found herself in. Eventually the coffee grew cold and sparrows made off with the crumbs and she resigned herself to returning to the hotel room that had become a sanctuary, if not quite home.

Once there, she poured herself a bath and set to the difficult task of relaxing while relaxing. The strain of constantly doing nothing was beginning to take its toll. Perhaps after her bath, she would take a long nap before bedtime. Yes. That sounded like a good idea.

Before Ellie could disrobe and step into the welcoming warm suds, a knock at the door disrupted her plan for the day. She hastened to the door and opened it, hoping for some good news, though expecting something like towel service.

“Madame?” A handsome young man in hotel livery was standing at her door, holding an embossed envelope. “
Pour vous
,” he said with that lilting French accent that made everything seem much fancier, including simple things like envelopes.

“
Merci
,” she replied, taking the missive. How perplexing. Nobody knew where she was, so how could anyone have sent her a letter? It bore her name on the front, so there was no doubt that it was intended for her, but for what purpose? Fortunately, the mystery did not have to linger long.

She turned the envelope over to reveal the seal of the embassy. Hm. Her arrival in France had no doubt been noted, but she had not anticipated coming to the attention of any officials. Upon opening the letter, Ellie found herself with an invitation to a soirée being held at the US embassy that night.

Odd. But perhaps not that odd. After all, fired or not, Ellie had held the tiller of much industry back home. She was a personage of some importance, she supposed. The gilt-edged, multi-embossed, lion-bearing invitation lifted her spirits. Maybe she was
persona non grata
in New York, but she mattered in France. Maybe this was the next big thing. Maybe she didn’t need her former company or Daniel Treville for that matter either. Maybe she was going to make it on her own again, just as she had before.

With her spirits lifted, Ellie spent the remainder of the day in preparation. There was a dress to obtain, hair to have styled, makeup to apply. When evening arrived, so did she, wearing a silver sheath of a dress that clung to the curve of her hip in a fashion that even she found alluring to behold.

The embassy was a grand building on the Avenue Gabriel, the oldest US embassy in the world, so the Internet had informed her, and was located at the corner of one of Paris’ grand public squares. On that night, many rich and elegant people were in attendance, the ladies a swirl of fine perfume and even finer jewels, the men all clad in restrained tuxedos and the like.

She was greeted warmly, given a drink, and almost immediately engaged in conversation with a charming Italian consul whose flashing dark eyes and complete lack of shame in complimenting her form soon thoroughly transported her from her cares.

Ellie had often viewed parties in New York as something of a necessary chore, but this was quite different. There was something special in the Parisian air that night, a magic that she could feel running through her veins. Something was afoot. Yes, she thought to herself, tonight certainly would bring some change. Though the embassy was no doubt usually home to a great many serious and pressing negotiations, at that moment there was something almost mystical about the way it was lit by chandeliers, swirls of laughing, smiling people engaging in the simple pleasures of society.