The Good Mistress: A BWWM Billionaire Romance (10 page)

Chapter 15

Mila

THE DAY HAD
gone downhill the moment Mila arrived home.  Keith had left her longing for Warren’s arms. The pillow of curled hair at his chest had been her everything after a long day’s work. But Warren was no longer here, and in his place stood a man she could never truly be with.

Sporting a good buzz, she followed Blake out of the bar.

“Let's go, Mila.” There it was again, that controlling tone of his.

“Yeah, well, I'm not done drinking.”

“Fine by me, but you’re not driving.”

“I'm not drunk, a little tipsy...”

Blake’s dark look didn’t yield.

Mila sighed under her breath, “Just comfortable in my own skin.” 

They ended up at a swanky lounge. Extremely elevated ceilings played up the vertical differences in the place. Chandeliers, at least twenty feet long, brought the focal point upwards. Low seated couches, thick with plush cushions sunk almost to the ground, were studded with beautiful, posh people. Everyone leaned into each other, pawing, touching, murmuring to the sound track of the live band. They connected in a manner which made Mila want to trace her hand along every one of Blake’s adventurous body scars. She wanted to feel his freedom.
Yes, that must be how he draws me in…
Mila thought, since he wasn’t the first wealthy man to cross her path. At Hewitt Corporation, the affluent came a dime a dozen.

In the outer perimeter of the lounge were alcoves for the ultra-elite. She sunk into one of the most sought-after couches in a recessed area that had a slight distinction from the main lounge area. This area had an atmosphere of its own. In a fluid motion, Blake sunk next to her, and
he
became the atmosphere.

His scent soothed her in the same manner as Warren’s, and it jarred Mila. But, she rationalized, Blake was all physical. If he didn’t want to know her, and her brain’s only impression of him was that of a hard release, there’d be no problems. She had to force herself not to enhance cognitive schemas, such comparing Blake to… love.

I’d be stupid to fall for this man.

A blonde in a black dress which clung to each of her curves stood before them. She held an iPad, ready to serve.

“I'll take anything with a kick,” Mila said, yet the servant’s eyes never turned her way.

“Your best champagne,” Blake ordered.

“Champagne?” Mila’s eyebrow cocked. She waved a hand, but the server only had eyes for him. Mila tried not to grumble. She didn’t want champagne unless it numbed her enough. “You know what, whatever. It's as if I'm invisible when you’re around. As long as it has the much needed
kick
.”

“Why?” His eyes trained on Mila as the blonde punched in the order, who seemed reluctant to walk away. And after one more longing glance, the blond strolled off.

“Well, you can judge—”

“I haven’t made any judgmental conclusions, Mila.” His breath felt erotic against Mila’s ear, his sexy lips so close that it almost felt like a kiss.

But it didn’t seem as if sex were on the menu, since Blake had that glint in his eye. The one which indicated he wanted to know her.

She scoffed, “Yeah right, you're at the top of the totem pole, born swaddled in gold, with a diamond encrusted pacifier.”

Blake shook his head. “Far from the truth…”

She didn't catch his disagreement of her own judgmental assessment because in Mila’s mind, schemas where building as to… friendship? No, that had to be far from the truth. Though it was hard for the notion to wrap around Mila’s brain that any person could have sex without building a relationship. However, that contradicted her need to fuck him without so much as a care.
I use to be able to think like a man…

“Look at me, Mila. We're more alike than you think.” Due to the low lighting, a smile parted the sexy, dark contours of his chiseled face.

“How so?”

“You're the me that I've strived not to be—”

“Thanks.”

“Just listen. You're so engulfed with what you believe are preconceived notions of you that you make the wrong moves.”

“So Mr. Baldwin.” She scanned him up and down.
I’m not supposed to judge, but I know you’ve had me investigated. A man like you doesn’t just fraternize with any damn body.
Mila had to believe that Blake was one of those power hungry rich men—everything was at their disposal. If he was calculating, she’d brush up on her old skills and become just as cunning. Besides, how else was Blake so spot on? Preconceived notions triumphed happiness in her world. But Blake and Mila? They were far from the same. Though she decided to humor him.

“How are
you
,” she shook her head, “like me?”

“There was a time that I gave a fuck about other’s opinions. Now I change people’s perceptions. My first million dollars didn’t even turn the heads of any potential benefactors in my field. Or how about more recently? Not an hour ago didn’t I redirect that man’s notion of me being a rich, pretty boy?”

She pointed at him. “Blake you are ridiculously rich; And that dummy lied to you, buddy. You’re drop dead gorgeous, not really pretty, but more so rugged…” She gasped, palm to forehead. Perhaps those drinks at the bar hadn’t been weak, but truth serum. With a raised index finger, Mila decided to read the billionaire. “Okay, you were a
sickly
rich kid, may…be. But those eyes, that hair, you were born with. Wait, scratch that. You perhaps were sickly as a rich kid. Then you grew up and conquered mountains in all aspects of the word; am I right? Wikipedia was vague on your upbringing. So you grew up and climbed mountains, parachuted, sky dived. Due to being born with that affluent mindset you have no breaks when it comes to redirecting people. Whether its business related or with those fists.”
Gloriously scarred fists…

“I wasn’t born rich. Yeah, as a kid, other people’s perspective got under my skin. These days, I train people to see things my way.”

Though Mila wanted to counter that his money trained people, a heaviness at the pit of her stomach told her otherwise. She wanted to know more about Blake. A man who stayed in the limelight. His internet bio began when he struck gold while inventing an application when cell phone apps were expensive.

“Now, Mila, why’d you call me?”

She contemplated that for a moment. The ‘fuck me’ line was the easy way out. He was a crack shot when it came to her g-spot.

“The finest champagne we have to offer, a 1995...” The waitress eye-fucked Blake. With a graceful wave of her slender hand, she displayed the Dom Perignon White Gold bubbly and its laser engraved insignia.

Blake nodded, his attention instantly back on Mila as the server poured.

“So what are we drinking to, Blake? My tipsy feel-good is coming down, give me a reason to celebrate.”

“Not so fast, Mila. The last time we spoke, I wanted to know everything about you.” He seemed to glance straight into her soul.

Blake just told her that others perceptions didn't matter. Now he still wanted to mind-fuck her. Mila just couldn't dash the feeling that anyone and everyone could see into her soul.

The confession was too easy. “I feel like I've been mourning a good friend, not a lover or a fiancé.”

She wanted Blake to fuck her into submission. To extract the guilt of not being
in
love with Warren a man that treated her too damn well. Instead of a stolen caress from Blake, or even allowing their tongues to dance in the middle of the lounge she told Blake about Warren...

Mila skimmed over Hewitt Corp; the big name often scared people. Not that it would send a self-made billionaire into a tailspin, but it would surely let Blake know exactly the kind of person she’d become.

“I worked 80 hours per week, fresh out of grad school, Blake. That was before Warren, but technically he knew me all the while. We were the type of … I guess you’d say friends… yeah, friends who got together for chats when there was a large group.”

“What changed?”

“With Warren?”

“No, with your job. The 80 hours.”

Mila’s eyes glided away. “One day, I decided that just wasn’t life for me.” Mila tried not to allow her mind to wander to the young mother and child when her family fled Somalia. Then there was that one reason she chose not to take partnership, that very day she’d taken a Taxi from Downtown Los Angeles, got out and proceeded to walk for hours…

“Talk to me, Mila.”

“There was a time I was in love with Warren’s younger brother, Keith.” Mila ran a hand through her freshly pressed hair. This was a safer topic. “What do you think of that?”

“Tell me about it,” Blake said, though his eyes didn’t reflect the same disgust as Mrs. Jameson or anyone else who thought she and Keith would one day get together.

So instead of telling Blake how she’d almost compromised her soul for Hewitt Corp, Mila mentioned how cute Keith once was to her. He’d been her first kiss. “I went back home after that summer. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess. Well, more so…” she paused to consider, “I bonded with the boy I should have married.”

“You were a teenager, and you already knew who you’d want to marry?” Still inquisitive… still
not
judgmental.

She gave a thoughtful nod. “Yeah, arranged marriage, Blake.”
But there are reasons I couldn’t go through with that, like the mother and child in the wilderness. Where was the father while this young woman had to go through life wondering if she and her baby would make it–God, I just want to know if they survived!

That emerald gaze stayed connected on Mila’s. He had more questions, his demeanor made it evident. He wanted to know more about said arranged marriage and why she didn’t go through with it.

“I chose education. Out of a gazillion Angelinos, Keith and I went to the same school. I didn’t even know Keith got into UCLA. This might not make a lick of sense, but Keith became my crutch. I’ve always taken the easy way around things. Education was my first, and having him as a friend kept my eye on the prize. But I can't say he didn’t get under my skin this evening. I wanted to slap the black off his face. So there, the reason why we’re here. Because Warren was a good guy, a wonderful man that I loved, but I’ve never been so…shit, I don’t even know the word.”

“You’ve never been in love with him.”

“Yeah,” Mila shook the confusion from her head. Then a smile perched on her lips. “Blake, you of all people—”

“Deflecting.”

She took a deep breath.

“You’re deflecting; not to mention I sense another round of judgement, Mila.”

“No, I'm not judging. It's just that my sister Lido is the only one to know the full story. Okay, this is how people see me: a slut who went after both brothers. I shared a dorm room with one throughout college. Then it seems like I traded the young one in for the already successful Warren.” Mila paused.  Blake didn’t seem to agree with her assessment of herself. “Okay, so I’ve only shared an awkward peck with a boy who had dimples! The other, who nurtured my mind, chased me for the longest time. But I was in love with Keith as a kid. I never got around to falling for Warren.”

“Hmmm. Mila, you’re all over the place. Look, Keith was the first cute boy you stared at. I remember the first girl I liked in elementary school too.” He paused to chuckle at the absurdity. “You can’t compare kiddy love to the grown folk stuff. Now, back to us. Mila, your debating is fucking praiseworthy. Arguing with you makes my cock so hard I want to bend you over and slap you with it. But when it comes to the two brothers, your debating sucks. You’re still assuming I look at you the same way as other people.”

“Let's drink. We’ve been sitting here for fifteen minutes with perfectly good bubbly.” She squirmed. Blake was right. Even if the love she once felt for Keith was puppy love, it held more weight than her feelings for Warren. “Have you dug into my mind enough, Blake?”

“Sure, but there's always later...”

Though she smiled at the thought of some sort of future with a
married
man, Mila glanced at the Dom Perignon White Gold with its luxurious casing. If Blake wasn’t going to fuck her brains loose, this would do. “So what can we celebrate?”

That forest green gaze swept over her skin, so palpable and rich, then landed on her eyes. “We breathe, therefore we celebrate.”

Their glasses clicked.

After a few drinks, an imaginary magnet made them scoot closer to each other. Mila leaned into him and began to nibble on Blake’s ear. She wanted him badly. The man could have been unattractive, ugly even, but his ambitions and egotism made her horny as hell. And let's face it, his cologne only enhanced Blake’s charisma.

“I’ve missed it...” His package felt like titanium as Mila’s palm fondled the rich material of his pants.

Blake turned toward her. He nipped at her bottom lip, sending a pulsating jolt to her lady lips. “You drunk, Mila?”

“Not even.”

“Good, I wasn't going to fuck you if you couldn't remember shit.” The dark look on Blake’s face told her she couldn't even fathom what he had in store for her...