Under His Control (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (3 page)

Finally, I reached my office and punched in the
security code on the door.
 
I activated
my computer system and the four monitors came to life with vibrant color.
 
Within moments, I had logged on with my
private security codes and accessed the satellites, cell phone towers, and
personal computers I needed to see into the private lives of some of top
leaders in the Middle East.
 
Nothing that
I saw came as any surprise to me and I knew that once again Richard had
panicked over nothing.

Trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice, I
gave him a call and assured him the activity his sources had alerted him to
was
nothing of consequence and sent the data to him in an
encrypted file.
 
Now it was time to have
a little fun.

I reached into my pocket and found the found number
for that hot girl from the club, Natalie Jacobs.
 
I put her number into the specialized hacking
program I had designed and patented, and instantly, I had access to everything
in her cell phone: text messages, photos, missed calls. Everything.

The text messages were pretty standard girlie
stuff.
 
Lots of back and forth with her
mother and some girl named Jennifer.
 
Very little conversation with some guy named Victor who obviously had a
hard-on for her.
 
He texted her at least
a dozen times per every one time she texted him back; usually with the phrase
Stop
texting me!
 
It’s over between us!

There weren’t any text messages from her work and since
she said she was an errand girl, I had expected to see a lot of one sided
conversations about picking up dry-cleaning, making a coffee run to Starbucks,
and the like.
 
Since there were none, I
figured she had a separate cell for work that she wisely left at home for a
night of partying.
 
I couldn’t say I
blamed her, and it backed up my theory that she was a people pleaser who
couldn’t say no if someone asked her to do something, so her only option was to
not hear the request.

It was when I got to her photos that things finally
got interesting.
 
There were pictures of
kids on horseback, selfies of her in Central Park, groups of unknown people
around birthday cakes, and finally the ones that got my attention and held
it.
 
She’d taken a vacation to some kind
of beach resort; my guess from the background scenery would be Mexico.
 
There were plenty of pictures of Aztec
temples, tropical plants, and colorful parrots, but at the end was an
incredible shot of her in a green bikini that matched her emerald eyes to
perfection.
 

Her luscious tits poured out of the tiny top, barely
contained by the tiny triangle of fabric that masked her nipples.
 
They needn’t have bothered; however, for the
round protruding nubs were perfectly visible, puckered by the cool water or a
blowing breeze.

She had a tiny waist, full round hips, and legs that
were supple and muscular.
 
She must have
gotten a Brazilian wax because no stubble marred her perfectly smooth tan flesh,
despite the miniscule thong that served as the bottom half of her bikini.
 

The smile on her face was dazzling, and her eyes were
sparkling with merriment.
 
It was clear
that this poor pent-up girl who was uncomfortable with slutty dresses, felt
dumped by her boyfriend, and hated her job hadn’t always been so miserable.
 
There was a part of her who knew how to cut loose
and really enjoy the pleasures life had to offer.
 
She’d forgotten as life had beaten her down,
and she just needed someone to remind her how.
 
Luckily for her, I was willing to do just that.

My brief hack job on her cell had assured me that she
was safe to call and I dialed her number quickly, hoping she was still awake.

“Hello?” she sounded breathless when she finally
picked up the phone.

“It’s Dante,” I said and heard her draw in her breath
in excitement.
 
It was a good boost to my
ego and I couldn’t help but puff up my chest.
 
Grinning to myself, I said, “So, my work didn’t take as long as I
feared.
 
Are you still up for coming over
to my place? I’ll pour us some drinks and we can finish that conversation.”

“Sounds great,” she said and I gave her my
address.
 
As I waited for her to arrive,
I felt a strange stirring deep inside.
 
More than lust or even affection: I was intrigued by her, which was a
quality I found irresistible and hard to find.

Chapter
Three:
 
Natalie

I arrived at his building at a quarter after midnight,
hoping it didn’t seem too desperate that I was willing to meet up with a
stranger at this hour of the night.
 
Then
again, maybe that was the perfect image to give off.
 
One night stands and booty calls were Dante’s
trademark, and if I didn’t want him to suspect my real motives, I needed to fit
that criteria perfectly.

His address was a very fine building in upper
Manhattan.
 
Alyssa dropped me off out
front with a knowing grin and said teasingly, “Good luck and have fun.”

“Shut up!” I mockingly gave her the finger and got out
of the car.
 
The security guards in the
lobby called up to Dante’s condo.
 
He
must have authorized me as a guest, for they opened the elevator for me and
directed me to take it to the top floor.

“Which apartment number?” I asked them, and the guards
chuckled.

“The entire top floor belongs to Mr.
Devereaux
, miss,” One of them informed me, and I felt
myself blush.
 
When the elevator came to
a stop and the doors opened, I found Dante waiting for me, looking even more
handsome in the light of his doorway than he had in the dimly lit bar.

He’d stripped off his suit jacket and tie and had
opened the first two buttons of his designer shirt, revealing just a hint of
chest hair.
 
He still had on his slacks,
but had removed his shoes and looked comfortable and casual in just his black
socks.

“Please take off your shoes.
 
I just had new carpets put in and I’d like to
keep them as nice as possible,” Dante said.
 
I pulled off my borrowed Jimmy Choo’s and set them next to his in the
front hallway.
 
No sooner were they off,
then he pulled me into his arms and kissed me, deep and hard, like he’d been
counting the seconds until he could do that ever since we’d left each
other.
 
The power of his kiss took my
breath away and I felt myself melting into his embrace.
 
He pushed me back against the wall, bracing
me up with it as his strong hands slid over my body.
 
I could feel the heat of his flesh even through
the thin fabric of my dress and longed for him to strip it off of me.
 

Suddenly, I came to my senses and remembered why I was
here.
 
It wasn’t to have hot sex with
this stranger, although God knows it had been long enough since I’d gotten
laid; no, it was to get the proof I needed to write my news story and become a
respected reporter.

Holding up my hands, I pushed him gently away.
 
Gasping for air, I said breathlessly, “Slow
down.
 
Let me see your place first.”

Dante stepped back respectfully and nodded.
 
“Yellow light; got it.”

“What?” I asked, surprised by the strange reference.

“Yellow light.
 
It means slow down.
 
Red light
means stop.
 
When I’m with a woman, those
are the code words I teach her to use to ensure she’s always comfortable and
enjoying herself.
 
They’re called safe
words.”

“Is that part of what you were saying in the bar about
how men need to protect and cherish a woman?”

“Absolutely.
 
Look at us, for example.
 
I’m much
bigger than you and much stronger.
 
You’ve come to my apartment completely alone in the middle of the
night.
 
You don’t know me or what kind of
man I am.
 
If I wanted to hurt you,
there’s no one that could really stop me.”
 
He pressed his huge muscular body against mine, pinning me to the wall
so I couldn’t run or even kick against him.
 
He ran his hands up my body, squeezing my breasts and then squeezing my
throat.
 
My heart was pounding in my
chest as I realized how right he was.
 
Then, he stepped back, giving me plenty of space to move and breathe and
smiled at me lightly, saying, “You’ve given me control by agreeing to come here
and honor me with your company.
 
It’s my responsibility
to respect and cherish you, to make sure you always feel comfortable and safe,
and that your visit here with me is as pleasurable as possible.
 
Now I’m not a mind reader, so I have to
depend on you to guide me.
 
When things
are too intense, all you have to do is say yellow light, and I’ll know to back
off or slow down.
 
When you want things
to stop all together, all you have to do is say red light and you can walk
right out of here and I’ll never bother you again.”

“Does it really work that way?” I asked, intrigued by
the idea.
 
“We could be making out hot
and heavy, about to have sex and all I have to say is red light and you’d just
stop right in the middle of everything?”

“Absolutely.
 
It’s called a power exchange. It seems like I have all the power because
I’m bigger, stronger, and you’re in my condo; but in reality, you have all the
power over me.
 
When you tell me to slow
down or stop, then I will.”

“Interesting.” I pondered the idea and was surprised
by how erotic it seemed.
 
There was
something extremely sensual about Dante as he described the philosophy to me
and I wished I was here for fun and nothing more.
 
Still, business was my priority and so I
forced myself to focus.
 
I needed him to
show me where he kept his computer and work files without allowing him to
suspect that’s what I was after.
 
A condo
that took up the entire top floor of a building this size would be a huge
labyrinth of rooms and there was no way I could find it on my own.
 
It would be best if he bought into the notion
I was here for a one night stand.
 
Smiling
at him provocatively, I let my fingers trail up his chest and said, “In that
case, I’d like a tour of your apartment, ending in the bedroom.”

“Certainly.
 
Follow me,” Dante said gallantly and led the way from his front entrance
hall into the living room of his lavish condo.
 
Panorama windows gave the room an impressive view of the NYC skyline,
and I couldn’t help but gasp at the sight.
 
His décor was very masculine, with leather sofas glass tabletops,
hardwood cabinets, and a state-of-the-art entertainment system.
 
With the touch of a button, he activated the
stereo system, which played through hidden speakers in the ceilings in crystal
clear surround sound.
 

His kitchen was equally impressive, with all the latest
gadgetry all in stainless steel, and his dining room could easily seat a dozen
people.
 
Sensual art hung on all the
walls with abstract images of beautiful naked bodies – or perhaps they were
flowers and my mind was simply in the gutter.
 

Down the hall, we came to his personal gym.
 
The serious amount of Nautilus equipment made
it clear how he maintained such an incredible body.
 
Judging by the biceps bulging from his rolled-up
shirt sleeves, he must spend several hours a day in there.

“What’s in there?” I asked as he nonchalantly passed
by a door with an electronic lock and keypad on the outside.

“That’s my office,” he said and kept walking down the
hall, but I stayed at the door.

Smiling flirtatiously and arching my back to thrust
out my tits, I said, “So this is the place that lured you away from me at the
club.
 
Can I see it?”

“Women are always worried about the competition,”
Dimitri grinned humorously.
 
“I’m sorry
to tell you that my work is my permanent mistress.”

He punched his security code into the keypad and
opened the door.
 
A large desk filled the
room with no less than four computers on it.
 
A printer was pouring out pages and he rushed across the room to see
what it was.
 
As he scanned the incoming
documents, I silently took in everything I could about the room.
 
There were no visible security cameras, which
was good; but the filing cabinets and desk drawers were locked, which was bad.