The Billionaire’s LEGACY

The Complete Collection

Billionaire Romance Box Set

Sarah J. Brooks

The Billionaire’s LEGACY

Astonishing Encounter

Sarah J. Brooks

Cassie

“Can you believe this beach, Cassie?” Emma asked me. We were stretched out on lounge chairs on the sweetest white sand beach I’d ever seen. The ocean before us, all of the usual noises of a luxurious resort were all set against the backdrop of constant, rushing waves. I looked around at the activities on the beach: in the water there were paddle boarders attacking the waves and even a few surfers who were trying to catch the swell. Out of the water, almost everyone on the beach was a mirror of Emma and me, laying on lounge chairs with cocktails all around.

“I can’t believe we’re actually here,” I sighed, closing my eyes and laying back. We had just gotten in to Belize that morning, and we’d spent most of the day traveling to the small, private island that contained Legacy, an ultra-luxurious resort known for its properties around the world. Emma and I had saved our money for over a year to be able to afford it, and, finally, here we were. The timing couldn’t have been better. Not only was it absolutely frigid in New York City, but I’d also just finally landed a position with International Travel, Inc. with their journalism department. Their magazine, Destination, was the hottest travel magazine around right now. It was my job to travel to various hotels around the world and report not only on their tourism aspects, but also on other elements: were the hotels and resorts ecologically responsible, did they sustain the local economy or bleed it dry, that sort of thing. It was my dream job, and one I’d been working for since I’d graduated from college four years earlier. My first internship had been in their solicitations department when I was a senior in college. Now, at age twenty-five, I had finally landed the job I anticipated to be my career for the rest of my life.

The sun beat down on my body and warmed me completely through. The smell of suntan lotion was thick in the air. I had just finished rubbing some SPF 8 into my skin, starting with my feet and ending with my stomach, exposed between the two halves of my black bikini, when a shadow blocked the sun on my legs.

“Excuse me, ladies, can I get you a beverage?”

I cracked one eye open and shielded my eyes from the sun. A Belizean man in white pants and a t-shirt with the resort’s logo over the right breast pocket stood at the feet of our lounge chairs.

“What do you say, Emma, should we get this vacation started?”

“I don’t see why we would wait any longer,” she said with a grin. We ordered two pina coladas and, while we waited, we went into the ocean for a bit. When our drinks arrived, Emma signed for them, and we clinked glasses.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be doing this for your job,” Emma said. “And me, sitting in my cubicle like a complete chump.”

“It’s not going to be like this,” I said. “For one, you won’t be with me. It’s going to be all work and no play most of the time.” Emma shot me a look that said she didn’t believe me for a second, and I protested. “Seriously! I’m going to be doing interviews, not laying at the beach.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a few moments to maybe pretend you’re on vacation,” she said dryly.

I laughed. “Okay, okay, maybe I’ll find some time to squeeze in a few minutes at, you know, ever major beach in the world. And, maybe a few cocktails too. But I won’t enjoy a second of it, just for you, I promise. I’ll text you regular selfies of how miserable I am.”

“You know, you should try to interview the owner of Legacy while we’re here. It would be pretty impressive to your boss if you used your own vacation to snag an interview with the owner of your resort.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” I said. “But, it’s doubtful that the owner is even here. Usually my schedule will be set around when they’re in town, which takes at least a few weeks to coordinate. Especially someone as prominent as the owner of Legacy; I don’t even know who the guy is. But, the Legacy chain is worldwide. He’s probably off in Egypt this week or something.”

“True,” Emma said. “Guess this week we’ll just have to drink and lay out until we pass out from sheer happiness.”

We got a good start on it that day, that was for sure. By the time the sun had shifted across the sky and late afternoon came around, we’d signed off on another three or four rounds of pina coladas and earned ourselves a decent pink hue that would either deepen to a sunburn or turn to a tan by the next morning.

“Are you hungry?” I asked. “We could go change for dinner. I’m going to want a shower.”

“Definitely,” Emma said. We gathered our magazines, iPods, and the resort’s towels and returned to our suite. My journalistic eye was strong and I was noticing the details of this resort and how it stood out from almost every other place I’d vacationed. Emma had heard about this place from someone at her work, and, so far, it was extremely impressive.

Everyone who stayed at the resort stayed in a suite; there were no small rooms. The resort was enormous and encompassed nearly the entire island, which was less than a mile across. Because it was an island and the resort so large, nearly every room had an ocean view. There were some so-called garden rooms, for people who thought the waves might awaken them, but the vast majority overlooked the ocean. Our room was on the ninth floor. It had three rooms: a sitting room and two bedrooms. The bathroom was off the sitting room, and the sitting room also contained a small kitchenette. While Emma showered, I sat outside on the balcony and watched people walk along the beach. There were some runners, some late afternoon sun bathers, and, of course, couples walking hand in hand waiting for the sun to set.

After I showered, I put on a light sundress I’d bought for the trip. I towel dried my hair and noticed that the sun had already begun to bring some highlights to the copper. I’d been growing out my hair for ages, and it was now several inches past my shoulders. Though I usually wore it up for work, tonight I opted to let it flow over my shoulders. I clipped it up on one side, put on a small bit of make up to accentuate the blue of my eyes, and I called it good.

“Are you ready to go?” I asked Emma.

“Definitely,” she said. She had worn a dress as well, and, as we walked down to dinner, I knew we looked absolutely amazing. I hadn’t seen many single guys running around the resort; it seemed to be more of a honeymoon destination place… but I could always hope. It had been ages since I’d had a date or been with a guy. My last relationship seemed like a hundred years ago, even though we had just broken up about a year ago. I was twenty-five and decent looking, curvy, I’d been told, in all the right places and none of the wrong ones, and I was ready to get back out into the field.

“I wonder if there will be any cute guys at the bar,” Emma said, echoing my own thoughts.

“I hope so,” I said. We walked into the restaurant, which was divided in half. A large bar took up nearly a quarter of the space, and bar stools and high top tables surrounded it. On the other half of the room, a more formal dining atmosphere, as formal as anything got in Belize, took up the rest of the space. The bar, because it was open to the beach and ocean, didn’t have the same luxury feel as the rooms; it was far more locally decorated. The furniture was made of bamboo and wood, and palm fronds decorated most of the walls.

We sat at one of the tables, and, within a minute, a server wearing the same uniform as the one who had brought us our cocktails on the beach brought us menus. Everything on the menu looked good, so we ordered some traditional Belizean fare and, of course, a couple of cocktails.

“Ladies, would you mind if we joined you?” I looked up and saw not one but two absolutely gorgeous men standing next to our table. “All of the other tables are taken, and we’re starving.” The blond man was speaking, and his friend, with black hair, stood next to him.

“Sure!” Emma said brightly. She moved over and motioned for me to do the same. The blonde sat next to me, while his friend sat next to Emma. Their names were Tom and Marty, and they were celebrating Tom’s graduation from med school. I thought Emma’s eyes were going to pop right out of her head when he said that, and I burst out laughing.

“What?” Marty, the one with black hair, said to me.

“Nothing,” I said, feeling Emma kick me lightly under the table, which only made me laugh more. I’d had enough cocktails during the day to think most anything was funny, but this was absolutely hilarious. “Emma and I are just really glad that all of the tables were full!” I grinned, flirting with Marty the best I could. It was obvious that Emma had claimed Dr. Tom.

“Well, we’re going to buy you ladies some drinks in exchange for letting us sit with you and completely interrupt your evening,” Tom said.

“That’s okay!” Emma said brightly.

“Emma, let the men buy us some drinks,” I said, and we all laughed again.

The entire night was like that: nonstop laughter. We sat at the table well into the night, talking and laughing, telling stories that weren’t even funny but sent us all into gales of laughter anyway. It was as though we’d known each other for ages. Finally, the temperature cooled down enough to drive Emma and I back toward our room.

“Are you guys going to be around tomorrow?” Emma asked as we all made our way from the restaurant to the elevator.

“We’re going to go on a scuba expedition that’s going to take most of the day,” Tom said. “We’re heading to the blue hole. But I think we’ll be back by dinner?”

“I think so,” Marty said. “If you don’t mind, we may crash your table again.”

“I don’t think we’d mind at all,” I said. “I’d love to hear about the dive. Emma, too, right?” I nudged her and she dissolved into giggles.

“Goodnight!” Emma called, waving as the elevator arrived. “See you tomorrow!”

“Come on, drunky,” I said, dragging Emma into the elevator.

As the elevator doors closed, I happened to look over toward the front desk. A man stood there, watching us get into the elevator. He looked like he was frowning. The last thing I remembered before slipping into bed and to sleep for the night was hoping we weren’t going to get yelled at by security… then I drifted off.

Brad

I woke up and, for a moment, wasn’t sure of where I was. Call it an occupational hazard. Owning one of the largest, most luxurious hotel resort chains in the world meant I did a lot of traveling and, often, woke up not sure of where I was or even what time zone I was in. This morning, the sound of the ocean eliminated at least twenty-five percent of my properties. I opened my eyes and looked around the room, my eyes settling in on one of the paintings on the wall: a picture of the big blue hole, the most popular scuba diving destination off the coast of Belize. I smiled and got out of bed, had breakfast, read the paper, and then traveled downstairs to begin my rounds.

It was my routine every morning after breakfast to spend at least two hours walking around my property. Though I wasn’t in town as often as I liked, I’d developed what I considered to be a good reputation with the locals of Belize. Foreigners like myself weren’t always welcome, but I had made it a priority to give jobs to as many local residents as I could.

“Good morning, Mr. White,” my secretary, Anna said. She greeted me as I was about halfway down the beach.

“Good morning, Anna,” I said. “How does the day look?”

“It’s fairly full, Sir,” she said. “But, a call just came in wondering if you have time for a meeting at four o’clock. You didn’t have anything scheduled, so I blocked out the time. The caller was rather… insistent.”

At this, I stopped walking and turned to Anna. “Who was it?” I asked.

“A Mister Brown, Sir, from Columbia.”

I nodded, not allowing the rapid increase of my heart rate to show. “Yes, Anna, that’s fine. That was good judgment on your part. Thank you.”

Anna ran through the rest of my schedule, but I barely heard it. I went through the day in body only; my mind was on my upcoming phone call with Mr. Brown, whose first name was Manuel. Manuel Brown only called meetings when something urgent was at hand; I had followed his orders to the letter the last time we’d spoken, and I had no idea why he was calling this soon.

After my morning walk, I returned to the office and followed the schedule Anna had set for me. We were in process of expanding properties into the Middle East, a project that was fraught with difficulties, but would, ultimately, be worth the effort.

My phone rang promptly at four o’clock. I stood and walked to the glass doors that opened onto my balcony.

“Yes?” I answered.

“Hello, Bradley,” Manuel said. He always addressed me by my full name.

“What do you need, Manuel?” I asked. “I met all of your demands the last time you called.”

“Yes, you did very well. We were pleased. I’m calling today to let you know that we will need a new property to work with in Central America. You are in Belize at the moment, is that correct?”

My stomach squeezed. I shouldn’t have been surprised that Manuel knew exactly where I was. The GPS technology he had access to likely could have told him my exact location anywhere on the Earth at any time.

“I am,” I said.

“Expect a delivery in the next few days,” he said. “You will need to prepare a space. Underground is best.”

“Storage or active work?” I asked.

“Storage,” he said. “A shipment about the size of what was sent to Turkey will be arriving.”

I thought about Turkey, and how the landscape had afforded the luxury of underground storage.

“You understand I’m on an island here,” I said. “Creating a basement isn’t really an option.”

“That’s not really my problem,” Manuel said, imitating my voice. “Get it done.”

He hung up the phone. I stood where I was for a moment, thinking of all of the choices I’d made, some smart, most poor, that had led me to this place. I sighed. I had learned early on not to disobey Manuel Brown. I couldn’t build a basement, but I would find the space for the shipment as he directed, there was no question about that.

I walked down to the restaurant. It was happy hour, and I wanted both a drink and the opportunity to check in on how the guests were enjoying their vacations. I never interrupted the guests directly; I didn’t need to. My employees were experts at reading what the guests needed and wanted, and they had my full permission to make things happen. Tonight, everyone seemed happy. We had several honeymooning couples, and they had all been provided with champagne and a complimentary dinner.

My eyes scanned the crowd and settled on a group of four, two women and two men. The men I recognized; they were part of a scuba group that had been staying with us for over a week. The women didn’t look familiar. As I moved closer to get a better look, the redhead caught my eye. She was stunning. Her hair was a dark copper and it moved in the light as she laughed, which she was doing often. Her eyes, a brilliant light blue, seemed too blue to be real, yet I somehow knew they were.

“That table,” I said to my bartender. “The two women with the divers… who are they?”

“Ah,” Sammy said. “That’s Miss Cassie and Miss Emma. Miss Cassie is the one with red hair; Miss Emma is the blonde. They just arrived this morning from the States. They’re here for a week. Beautiful women.”

I looked sharply at Sammy, and he shrugged. I smiled. “That they are, Sammy. What are they drinking?”

“Pina coladas, Sir.”

“Send four over on the house. Don’t tell them, just leave them off the bill.”

“Yes, Sir,” Sammy said.

I stood back and kept my eye on Cassie. I made a note to check her reservation information. She was, quite simply, the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. As the night wore on, I continued to pass by the restaurant. If Cassie went to the gentlemen’s room, I wouldn’t be surprised. At nearly midnight, the party broke up and the four walked, still laughing, toward the elevator. I held my breath as they said good night. No kissing, no drunken feel ups. They said good night and the women left in the elevator while the men returned to the bar for another round. I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and I turned to walk back to my own suite. I had thinking to do; I had to figure out how to create an underground storage facility before the shipment arrived.

Cassie

“We should go get some lunch,” Emma said. “I’m flat out starving.”

I hung up the room phone and smiled. “Guess who just landed an interview with the owner of the resort?”

“Seriously?” Emma gasped.

“Crazy, right? He happens to be here this week. Originally, his secretary or whoever said he was too busy, but she just called back and said that he’d agreed to do a twenty minute interview with me tomorrow morning before he leaves. I can’t believe it!”

“Your boss is gonna shit himself,” Emma said, shaking her head.

“Right?” I stood up. “Speaking of phone calls, have you heard from the good doctor yet this morning?” I could tell from Emma’s immediate blush that she had.

“Maybe,” she said. “It’s possible he texted me before they left for the dive this morning.”

“Get him, girl,” I said.

“What about you and Marty?” she asked.

I shrugged. By the light of day, I knew that Marty wouldn’t be more than a casual vacation encounter, if that. He lived in California, and I was in no mood to enter another doomed-to-fail long distance relationship.

“I’m not really here to hook up, I guess. I thought maybe, but… it just doesn’t seem right with him.”

“It’s good practice for your job, I guess,” Emma shrugged. Then, she grinned. “And it means more men for me! Just as long as you’re still willing to come out with us tonight?”

“Of course!” I said. “I had a blast last night; I wouldn’t miss it.”

We finished getting ready and then hit the beach for day two of our vacation. I’d brought my iPad with me to read, but every time I tried to focus on my novel, all I could think about was my upcoming interview with the owner of Legacy. I knew very little about him, since I hadn’t done research on him prior to our arrival here. I knew plenty about Legacy; everyone did. It was an international chain of luxury hotels and resorts, and they existed in every major country in the world. Every year it was near the top of the Fortune 500 list. Though the owner was American, one of the things that distinguished the Legacy chain from others of its type was that the hotels worked hard to sustain the local economy by hiring locals as employees and using local produce and materials to build and run the hotel. Because of this, Legacy had never run into issues with acceptance from the local communities.

I knew I wanted to ask some questions about this. I also wanted to ask questions about the owner’s personal life. I envisioned him to be in his sixties, probably attractive, distinguished. Definitely filthy rich. I thought about what kinds of questions I could ask… and I kept coming up blank. I knew I’d need to come up with a few before the next day.

Emma pulled me out of my concentration with a cocktail, and we clinked glasses.

“Your first interview question needs to be to get their pina colada recipe, I swear to God,” Emma said dreamily as she sipped her drink.

“I think it’s the local fruit. It’s so damn fresh and good,” I said, trying to sip my drink slowly enough so I didn’t end up with an ice cream headache. “What time is it?”

It was getting closer to late-afternoon, and we decided to go back to the room and get ready for dinner. I opted for another sundress, but this time I remembered a wrap to keep myself warm. I dried my hair and tonight decided to wear it up. I swept my hair up off my neck and twisted it, then closed a hair clip over it. I thought wearing my hair up made me look older, more sophisticated, and it went well with the dress I was wearing that night, a strapless silk sundress that was primarily white, but also had some streaks of a salmon color running through it. Both colors accentuated my tan and my skin glowed. I smiled; there was something about a vacation that made me both look and feel sexier than I could ever feel in my day to day life.

We walked down to the restaurant for dinner and looked for Tom and Marty, but they weren’t there. We found two spots at the bar and had dinner. Tonight I opted for a burger and fries, again, something I would never have in my day to day life… vacation gave me permission for all sorts of fun.

Our server cleared our plates and we opted for another round of cocktails as our dessert. We’d just clinked glasses when I heard a voice in my ear. “Where’s your boyfriend?” I looked at Emma, whose eyes were wide, then I looked to the source of the voice. Directly next to me, his hot breath in my face, was an obviously drunk man. He put his hand on my shoulder. “Is your boyfriend here tonight?”

I shrugged him off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said firmly, “and don’t touch me.”

“Ohhhh,” the man exaggerated putting his hands back. “Tough crowd. Playing hard to get, huh? I saw you with your boyfriend last night, you weren’t playing so hard to get then.” He leaned in closer to me. “Come on, give us a kiss…”

“Get the fuck out of here!” I yelled, standing up and moving beside Emma.

“Is there a problem, ladies?” The bartender, Sammy, came over right away when he heard me yell.

“This guy is being a complete creep,” Emma said, pointing at the drunk man. “Plus, he’s loaded.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Sammy said. “How about if you find yourself somewhere else to be tonight, pal.” He came around to our side of the bar and stood next to the man, flexing both his muscles and his height.

“Whatever,” the man slurred. “Bitches flaunt it then can’t handle it when a man gives them some attention.”

“Out!” Sammy roared. By the time we had the attention of the entire bar, and I felt myself blushing like crazy. The drunk man left the bar, swaying and tripping as he made his exit. “Ladies,” Sammy said, “you have my most sincere apologies for that spectacle. Are you both all right?”

“Of course,” I said. “We’re New Yorkers.” I winked at him as if that should answer the question, but Sammy wasn’t persuaded.

“Your bill is on the house tonight,” he said. “And your next round is obviously on us. We take the comfort and, of course, safety of our guests very seriously.” He walked away to get us another round of pina coladas and Emma turned to me.

“Well, that was pretty impressive,” she said. “Can you imagine that happening in Queens?”

“Ha!” I exclaimed. “Right?” The sounds in the bar returned to normal once everyone realized that the scene had finished. Sammy brought us our round of drinks and we thanked him, insisting that comping them wasn’t necessary.

“I wonder where Tom is,” Emma said, frustration in her voice. She had been checking her phone, but she hadn’t heard from him yet.

“I’m sure they just got delayed on the dive. They’ll be back sometime tonight,” I said.

We hung out at the bar far later than we should have, and I was feeling quite buzzed by the time we were ready to leave. We walked to the door of the bar and just missed walking smack dab into Tom.

“I’m so glad we didn’t miss you!” he said to Emma. “The bus broke down on the way back from the dive. I didn’t think we had a chance in hell of making it, but we did. Marty is in the room, but I wanted to come straight here.”

“Hey Tom,” I said easily, a slight slur in my voice.

“Hey Cassie,” he responded, not taking his eyes from Emma’s.

“I’m going to head to the beach for a bit,” I said. “Emma, I assume you’ll be here?”

“We’ll be here,” Tom said. I grinned and walked out of the restaurant. The wind had picked up as the tide had come in, and I pulled my wrap around my shoulders. I took deep breaths of the amazing salt air, and thought once more how lucky I was to be on this beautiful island.

“Hey there, sexy,” a gritty, dark voice said. I looked around, but I couldn’t see anyone.

“Who’s there?” I asked. Anxiety spiked through me. I realized I’d walked far enough down the beach to be alone. Well, almost alone.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” the man’s voice said. He stepped out of the shadows, and I saw it was the drunk man from earlier.

“I told you, I’m not interested,” I said. “And I’m sure you got the message when Sammy told you as well.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You’re not so tough without your bartender muscle around, are you?” He stumbled toward me and pressed his lips against mine.

Suddenly, I felt his entire body lift away from my own and he grunted. “What the—”

“The lady said no.” I looked behind the drunk and saw… well… in the moonlight and my pina colada haze, he looked a bit like Superman. At least six foot three, dark hair, olive skin, and blue eyes that stood out intensely from the rest of his dark features. “And, from what I’ve heard, it’s not the first time tonight. Go down to the dock. You’ll find a water taxi there to take you back to San Pedro, where you will stay. If you show up here again, you’ll be arrested. Do you understand?”

I looked at Superman holding Drunk by his collar, the size difference between them comical enough that, had the situation not been so serious, I would have burst out laughing. The drunk man got the message this time and stumbled down the beach to the awaiting water taxi.

“Are you okay?” the man came in closely to me, examining me with his eyes.

“I’m fine,” I said shakily. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

“No reason you should have been; this island is incredibly safe. That guy isn’t a local. I think he must be staying at a hotel on the main island and thought he’d crash our party over here.”

We began to walk back to the hotel. I introduced myself, and he told me his name was Brad.

“Are you a guest?” I asked.

“Something like that,” he said. “Can I buy you a drink for your trouble?”

I began to decline, then I looked more closely at Brad in the moonlight. There wasn’t a chance in the world he was available; guys as good looking as him never were.

“You’re not here with your wife, are you?” I asked.

Brad burst out laughing, and I was treated to his smile, a wide, easy grin that showed off his perfectly straight, white teeth. “Hardly,” he said. “Unless you count being married to my job, I don’t have a wife.”

“Then I’ll have a drink with you,” I said.

One drink turned into several, and we closed down the bar. Sammy left us the rest of the pina coladas in the blender, but, once those were gone, we were on our own.

“If you want some more, I have beer in my room,” Brad said. “We could go up there.”

I hesitated. That was a pick up line if ever there was one. We had been laughing and our conversation had flowed from the moment we’d set foot in the restaurant. I tried to imagine myself dating him, then my logical mind intervened. You’re on vacation in Belize. You’ll never see him again. Why don’t you loosen up and enjoy yourself for once?

“That could be fun,” I said finally. He smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Great,” he said. He held his hand out to me and I hopped off the bar stool. My hand was small in his, and I could feel the strength of his arm in his grip. He was built solid from head to toe, and his muscles bulged faintly through the loose fabric of his white shirt.

We got to his room and, as promised, he had cold beer in his mini fridge.

“Your suite is huge!” I exclaimed. “It’s, like, twice the size of mine.”

“I do a lot of work when I travel,” Brad explained. “So, it’s important to me that wherever I stay is big enough for me to be able to sometimes not leave the suite for a day or so at a time.”

“What do you do again?” I asked. I thought he’d probably told me, but my memories were fuzzy.

“I’m a business man,” he said. “Do you want to sit outside on the deck?”

I meant to ask him what type of business he was in, but, when we got out to the deck, my thoughts faded. He leaned in and kissed me. My body responded as if to say finally! and I kissed him back. His lips were full, salty, and I felt myself pressing toward him, though I had told myself I would try to restrain my attraction. My nipples were hard, pressing against the silk of my dress, and I knew that Brad could feel them. He brought his hands to my neck and held my jaw in his warm palms as he kissed me deeply. I put my hands on his broad chest and felt an immediate spike in my arousal.

He reached behind my head and pulled the clip out of my hair; I felt my hair fall over my shoulders wildly, and he groaned.

“You’re so beautiful, Cassie.” He pulled me to him and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I pressed my body to his, feeling his erection, impressive under his linen pants. I dropped my hand down to his cock and began to stroke it softly through the fabric. He responded by picking me up; I wrapped my legs around his waist and he carried me out of the moonlight and into his bedroom.

He laid me down on the bed and kneeled over me, unbuttoning his shirt and gazing down at me. I smiled up at him, enjoying the view. His shirt off, he rolled me onto my back and unzipped my dress, exposing my back. He began to rub my back and kiss the line of my spine; I felt myself growing wetter and wetter, and I struggled out of my dress, then turned back over. I spread my legs and he moved between them. I held his cock in my hand and pressed it to my belly, stroking him between my hand and my stomach with one hand while I gently held his balls with my other. He strained and moaned, a look of pure pleasure on his face. His cock was gorgeous; the perfect size and shape, his head glistening with pre-cum. I wet my hand and began to stroke him faster, his cock responding by hardening even more, the skin straining and stretching until neither of us could stand any more, and, after slipping on a condom, he entered me.

“Oh my God,” I groaned, feeling the magnitude of him filling me, stretching me open, and I spread my legs wider. I reached for my feet and gripped them; he pressed his hands to my ass and pulled me to an angle that my body had never experienced before. From that angle, he gave my clit more attention than I’d ever believed possible, and, at the same time, fucked me deeply. He was, quite simply, the most impressive lover I’d ever had, and my orgasm, a slow build into an explosion of heat and cum, reflected nothing less.

When he came, his body grew rigid and he growled, pounding into me in a motion that very nearly pulled me into a second orgasm; had I been sober, it most certainly would have, and possible a third. I laid back, sweating and breathless, as he rolled off of me.

“My God,” he said. “You’re…” He began to laugh. “You’re fucking amazing.”

Brad

When I woke up the next morning, just a few hours after Cassie and I had finished certainly the best fucking I’d experienced in my lifetime, I looked at her sleeping peacefully for a few moments before I reluctantly got out of bed. I’d been hoping for a little morning delight, but the clock said I was already late to stat my day.

I showered and dressed, then I left a note on my pillow letting Cassie know that she should enjoy the suite for as long as she wanted, and I would connect with her later in the day for lunch or dinner if she didn’t have plans. I included my number.

Normally I would have done my work for the day in my suite, but, with Cassie there, I went instead to my office in the back of the lobby. I looked at my schedule for the day and sighed. I saw my four o’clock appointment with the journalist and I groaned out loud. I’d forgotten all about that, and I had absolutely no desire, especially today, to have to answer questions or, worse, dodge them. I thought for a moment about Cassie, still sleeping soundly in my bed, and I had the urge to tell my secretary to reschedule everything so I could go back to the room. But, that wouldn’t work, especially with what I had to do that day. I had to create a basement on a damn island.

I called my builder, the one who knew everything and whom I trusted implicitly. He laughed. “You can’t dig any deeper than you already have,” he said. “This island is solid rock. Great for a hotel, but there’s no way you can hammer through it without destroying some of the structural integrity of the building that’s already there.

“Okay, then tell me what I can do. I need a basement. What are our options?”

“Is it storage or active work?” he asked, mirroring the exact same question I had asked Manuel Brown.

“Storage,” I said. “From Columbia.”

“Ah, okay. Well, we could do a vault. We could build it into your office. It would take up that entire room, but we can find you another office much more easily than we can build a basement.”

“We’ll tell the employees that it’s for money and credit card receipts,” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “That will work. I can build the face of it to reflect what most of them would consider a logical vault.”

I sighed, looking around my office that would soon be a secretive storage facility. “Let’s do it. Can you start today?”

“Yes, sir, no problem,” my builder said.

“That’s why I keep you around,” I said, feeling, finally, like this whole arrangement might be possible. I thought of Legacy and everything it stood for. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect the things I held so dearly, things that couldn’t be contained in a vault.

I worked throughout the afternoon to pack up and clear out my office. For the time being, I knew I could work easily out of my suite. The bulk of my work was all online anyway; it had to be in order for me to travel.

“Mr. White?” my intercom crackled. I jumped at the startling interruption, then I smiled ruefully. I was definitely jumpier than usual, thanks to Manuel Brown’s orders.

“Yes, Anna, what is it?”

“The journalist that you said could interview you this afternoon has arrived. I reminded her that she has a maximum of twenty minutes with you. Are you available, or should I have her reschedule?”

I sighed. I’d forgotten all about that appointment after I’d looked at my schedule that morning, and a fresh wave of dread rolled through me. I didn’t have time for it, but, the one thing I’d learned about reporters in my time as the owner of Legacy was that the longer you put them off, the hungrier they got. When they got starving, they started foraging for their own answers… and I couldn’t afford to have anyone sniffing around trying to dig up information I wasn’t ready to give.

“Give me five minutes, then send her in,” I said. I quickly adjusted my packing plan to make it look like the office was at least somewhat occupied. I realized my running around had caused me to break into a sweat, though I knew part of the culprit was the thought of answering questions. I slammed a glass of water and wiped my forehead, then I sat down at my desk just in time to hear a knock at the door.

“Come in,” I called.

The door opened and I looked up, expecting to see an eager, nerdy young man with a tape recorder and a notebook. Instead, Cassie walked through the door. My heart and my cock both skipped a beat as they hopped to life.

“Cassie!” I said. “What are you doing here?”

Confusion was written all over her face, and she flushed red. “Um, I’m here to interview the owner of Legacy…?”

“You’re…” I shook my head and began to laugh. “You’re the journalist?”

Her eyes widened in understanding. “You’re the owner of Legacy?”

Cassie

“You’re the owner of Legacy?” I exclaimed, standing in the doorway of the office. I stared at Brad and felt my entire body flush in excitement and arousal at the memory of our night that had ended, really, just a few hours before.

He shook his head, not in denial, but in incredulity. He stood up and walked around the desk to where I stood in the doorway.

“Come in, please,” he said, guiding me in and closing the door behind me. He smiled as he gestured for me to take a seat.

“I’m Bradley White, owner of Legacy Luxury Hotels and Resorts.”

I stared at him until it dawned on me; he was going to treat this as a fully professional, first time encounter. I took a deep breath, and he waited for me to catch up with him.

“Yes, of course,” I said. “My name is Cassandra Young. I’m a journalist with Destination magazine, and I want to first thank you for taking time out of your incredibly busy schedule to meet with me today.” I smiled at him and tried to ignore the blush I knew was continuing to rise on my cheeks. I cleared my throat and looked back down at my notebook, trying to find some stability and comfort in the list of questions I had prepared.

“I’m glad this works out,” Brad said. “I’m rarely here, so this was quite a fortuitous meeting.”

“Uh, yeah,” I said. “So, that kind of leads to my first question. First, though, do you mind if I record the interview?” I took my recorder out and set it on his desk.

“Not at all,” he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands across his stomach. I had a flash of my lips on his stomach last night, and I looked back down at my notes.

“Wonderful. So, my first question is, how many hotels do you have worldwide, and how do you go about managing them?”

“Worldwide, we have nearly a thousand hotels as of today, with plans for another hundred and fifty before the end of next year.”

“Impressive,” I said.

“I manage them by employing not just people I know and trust as management, but also by hiring people who are local and who take pride in their community. The balance of my staffs is very carefully crafted, and it seems to be working. I also visit each hotel at least once a year.”

“You visit all of them? That must mean you travel a lot. Do you have…” I paused, catching a stammer in my voice. “Um, do you have a wife? Children?”

“I’m married to my work,” he said, and I flushed again, remembering when he’d said that exact thing to me last night. “It takes a lot of careful scheduling, but, again, I pride myself on being present for all of my hotel staffs. Treating the staff like family is the fundamental principle on which Legacy was built.”

“And you don’t have children,” I said. I asked the question again because I noticed a shift in his energy, almost imperceptible. Call it a journalistic instinct, but there was something there.

“No,” he said sharply. “I have no children. No wife. No family.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t mean to push that.”

His face softened. “No problem. What’s your next question?”

“Where was the first Legacy hotel built, and why did you decide that a luxury hotel chain was how you wanted to invest your money?”

I watched him form his answer. As a journalist, I’ve seen a lot of people tell the truth, but I’ve seen even more people lie. When people lie, they do a couple of things. If they’re actively lying, of course, there’s research that suggests their eyes will shift a certain direction. But, that doesn’t account for people who believe their own lies. There are also people who are practiced liars. I knew immediately that the answer I was about to get from Brad was not the truth. His eyes shielded over, almost as if he’d dropped a veil between us, and he began to recite a story of wanting to learn about other cultures and give people the opportunity to experience luxury on a budget… I wrote down his answer nearly word for word, but I didn’t believe a word of it.

I studied him, trying to figure out if I should press him on it. My instincts told me now.

“That’s wonderful,” I said instead.

I asked him a few more questions, and he answered them. Some he answered more directly than others, but I didn’t get the sense that he was lying like he had been when I’d asked him what had led him to investing in the hotel chain to begin with.

“I think my twenty minutes are nearly up, Mr. White, so I wanted to ask, is there anything you’d like me to include in the article? Any words of wisdom, any upcoming events, anything that would be of interest to my readers?”

Brad thought for a moment. I watched his jaw flex as he moved his tongue against his teeth. He stared at a spot on his desk, then he looked directly at me.

“Appreciate each moment of your life, and don’t wait until tomorrow to do the things you love.”

“Deep,” I said.

“Not especially,” he said. “People constantly find reasons to put off their vacations. No time, not enough money, can’t get a babysitter, don’t want to go alone. I want to give people permission to enjoy their lives… and to enjoy their lives here at Legacy.”

I smiled. “Of course. Well,” I stood up. “Thank you for your time.” I reached out for my tape recorder and clicked ‘stop,’ then I reached out my hand to shake his. He reached his hand out as well, and his palm touched mine. I felt a jolt of electricity move through me, memories of the night before flooding my body, bringing the temperature of my blood up to boiling. I blushed a deep red, and willed my body to turn away from Brad and toward the door.

“When can I read the story?” he asked as he walked me to the door.

“Um, I haven’t completely cleared the dates with my boss, but my guess is it will be in the March issue. So, not this next month’s, but the one after that.”

“I can’t wait,” he said, smiling broadly. I felt my smile in response to his.

“Well, thank you again,” I said, awkwardly trying to get out of the office without making a complete ass of myself.

“You’re very welcome, Cassie. But, since you asked me several questions, can I ask you one?” He was leaning against the door with his hand on the doorknob. Not keeping me in the room, but not exactly shooing me out, either.

“Of course,” I said, breathlessly.

“Can I see you again tonight?”

Cassie

I woke up, stretched, and smiled. I had woken up in this bed often enough now that I no longer felt any confusion upon waking. No glances at a strange ceiling wondering if I was home or away, wondering what time zone I was in. Instead, I found myself automatically reaching to the other side of the bed for the warm, steadily breathing figure I knew would be there. My vacation was finished; it had technically ended five days ago, yet I was still in Belize. Emma had returned to the United States, leaving me behind with a rescheduled, open-ended ticket. I had called my editor and said I was onto a huge story, that I had gotten an interview with the owner of the entire Legacy chain, and I needed a few extra days here. She was thrilled, completely ecstatic. “How did you land that interview?” she’d asked in admiring disbelief. I thought for a moment about Brad rescuing me from the drunk guy on the beach, us having our passionate one night stand, then walking into his office the next day and realizing that my interview and my one night stand were one and the same. “I worked my magic,” I’d said to my editor. “He’s charming as all hell, and he’s giving me some great material.” After a half hour of waiting for my fate to be determined, my editor had called with the good news. I was good to go for another two weeks at Legacy Resort in Belize, and Destination magazine was footing the bill.

Of course, I wasn’t paying any attention to the fact that I was technically now in Belize in my capacity as a journalist, and I blocked out any thought that I could be returning home soon; my full attention was only in that bed. Brad’s bed.

“Good morning,” he sighed, rolling over to face me. His eyes lazily opened, and he smiled. I wondered if there would ever be a time when the combination of his sparkling eyes and smile didn’t send my heart pounding in my chest and breathless energy moving through me. I smiled back, sending a hope to the universe that the answer to that question was: never.

“Good morning,” I said. I propped myself up onto one elbow and felt the sheet slide away from my breasts. The cool air incited a smattering of goosebumps on my flesh, and I felt my nipples harden in response to the temperature. I smiled at the flickering of his eyes toward my chest. “Eyes up here, Mister,” I said, a smile spreading across my face.

“Eyes up there, fingers right here,” he said playfully, and he reached his hand to my breast, running his thumb across my nipple. My body responded immediately, a flush rising in my cheeks as my nipples hardened against his touch. “See how talented I am? With my eyes closed…”

“If you insist,” I said, moving my mouth to his and kissing him. His mouth fit over mine perfectly, and I felt my body begin to melt into a state of bliss. He replaced his thumb with his palm, and the contrast of heat and cool on my breast sent a shiver through me.

His phone buzzed from the side table and he groaned. “Dammit, what now?” He rolled away from me and I sighed. Every morning had been the same. Though, to be fair, Brad was definitely sleeping in a lot later than he normally would have. It was nearly seven in the morning; usually, Brad had told me, he was up and into the daily action by five.

Something was up this time, though. Brad held the phone to his ear and almost immediately sat straight up in bed. He stood up and moved quickly to get his clothes.

“How close is it?” he asked. “How much time do we have?” He dressed and walked out of the bedroom. I could see him in the living room, standing at his desk turning on the computer and clicking online.

I sat up in bed and wrapped the sheet around my chest. I looked at my phone and saw a text from Emma.

Are u ok? The message said. I was an hour behind her in central time, and she had sent the message two hours earlier.

Yes, why? I replied.

Thank God u answered. Check the news. Huge storm. Headed your way. How much longer will u be there? Her response was immediate.

I frowned, then looked back up at Brad. He was looking at me. He mouthed “Business” to me and pointed at the computer. I nodded and held up my phone, letting him know I was occupied as well.

A few more days, I texted back. Not sure.

U may be there longer than u think. Hurricane warnings. Belize in direct path.

I felt my eyes widen and I looked out the window, seeing for the first time the swaying of the palm trees and the windy activity that was far more than just a morning sea breeze. I got out of bed and dressed quickly, then walked out to the living room to join Brad.

He was looking at the weather online, a circling, moving radar that showed Belize in the direct path of a category five hurricane, scheduled to make landfall in less than forty-eight hours. I put my hand on his shoulder and he jumped, as if he’d completely forgotten I was there. He smiled and put his arm around me.

“I understand,” he said into the phone. “We need to make it happen. The shipment is coming whether we’re ready or not, and, if we don’t have a place to put it, well, I don’t need to tell you how bad that will be for us.”

I stepped away from him and moved into the kitchen to make coffee. One thing I had learned over the course of my time with Brad was that he needed his space when he was talking business. I had first slept with Brad two weeks earlier, interviewed him the next day, slept with him that same night, and we’d been together every night since then. While I wouldn’t go so far as to say I knew him yet, I was starting to get a feel for his habits. When he was with me and his phone was off, he was the consummate gentleman, paying for dinner and showering me with affection. When he was talking business, he was edgy, full of tension. He would pull away from me not only as if I wasn’t to be privy to his conversations, but as if I was an actual spy, sent to eavesdrop on his business transactions and report back to an enemy. The first few times it had happened, I’d pouted, acted mad. Now… now, I made coffee.

I poured two cups and doctored his with cream and sugar, just as he liked. I brought it to him and set it on the desk without making eye contact. He was in a terse conversation with either the same person he’d been speaking with or someone else. I felt a ball of tension fill my stomach; today was not going to be an easy day.

I took my coffee, straight black, onto the lanai. The wind was shocking, blowing a combination of hot and cold air, mingling with the occasional raindrop. Based on the clouds rolling in, we were in for a stormy day. I sat on a chair anyway, and watched the wind create huge whitecaps on the water. The power of the ocean never ceased to amaze me. There were a few brave swimmers trying to take on the waves, but I knew that, if the waves continued to build, in another hour or so the beach and the water would be deserted. All of the tourists would migrate inside, to the restaurant, to the bar, to their rooms, and the island would look like it was completely deserted.

“I have some bad news,” Brad said from behind me. I turned. He stood in the doorway to the lanai with his coffee in his hands.

“I know,” I said. “Hurricane. Emma texted me from New York.”

“It’s bad,” he said, sitting next to me. “The radar says it’s a category five, but I just got off the phone with one of my advisors and he said that it’s supposed to be at the upper end of a category five. It’s more likely than not that we’ll be evacuated.”

“To the states?” I asked.

“Not at this point,” Brad said, shaking his head. “It’s too late for that. We’ll get shuttled back to the mainland and they’ll determine a place for us to be. Right now, it’s looking like we may be okay toward the center of Belize, but it’s a several hours’ drive, and that’s once we get to the mainland itself.”

“What do we do?” I asked. I was trying to stay calm, but alarm was rising in me. The air felt wrong somehow, different. I couldn’t believe all of this had happened in the time since we’d gone to bed last night.

“You’re going to take a shuttle to the mainland. I’ve arranged for one to pick you up in two hours. Pack only what you need; you can leave everything else here.”

When Emma had flown back to the states, I had moved all of my belongings into Brad’s room. We agreed it made sense to open a room up for new guests, but, the truth was, we both just wanted an excuse to be together.

“You’re coming with me,” I said. Statement, not question.

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “I can’t. I’ve got…” he paused, searching for the right words. “I’ve got an important shipment coming in from overseas. I need to be here for it. And, for the work that needs to happen to prep for its arrival.”

“What are you talking about, you’re not coming with? That’s insane, you’ll be killed!” My voice rose and the tension that had been building within me finally exploded. “My ass you’re going to send me alone on a boat to the mainland and stay here. That is not happening.”

I saw a flash of anger in his eyes and I knew I’d gone too far.

“I’m going to try to keep from saying something I don’t mean, here,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “You and I, we are nothing. We’re not in a relationship. You don’t get to dictate where I go or what I do. You have no idea what will happen if this shipment falls through, if it doesn’t arrive, or if I’m not here to receive it. Now, I’m having a great time with you, but that will all come to a screeching halt if you don’t mind your own fucking business.”

He was squeezing his coffee cup hard enough that his knuckles had turned white. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Fine,” I said. “Die here. Go ahead. It’s not like I’m some possessive girlfriend not wanting you to go out with your boys to the strip club for the night. There’s a fucking hurricane about to pound down on us. Excuse me for giving a shit and not wanting you to get blown away into the ocean.” I set my coffee down and walked back into the room. I stalked into the bedroom and began throwing my stuff into my suitcase. I paused, breathless, staring at the heap of clothes. How on earth had they fit into my bag in the first place?

“You know what?” I yelled to the empty room. “Fuck you! I’ll find my own way back.” I grabbed my purse and my phone, left my stuff, and walked past a stunned Brad out the front door. I slammed it extra hard, and then I walked down the hall. I waited to the count of ten for him to follow me.

He didn’t.

Brad

I stood in my living room wondering how what had promised to be a very satisfying morning had ended up in such a disaster. Cassie had just stormed out, and I couldn’t even take ten seconds to go after her, no matter how much I wanted to. The hurricane was bearing down on us, and, if it arrived even close to when it was scheduled, I was in a shit ton of trouble.

I shook my head and put Cassie out of my mind. I couldn’t worry about her now; either she would forgive me or she wouldn’t, and I didn’t have the time to wonder about it. I called my builder, Alejandro. He answered immediately.

“I was expecting your call,” he said. His voice was calm, but I’d worked with him enough to know that he was feeling the same panic I felt. Well, not the same panic; that wasn’t really possible given the different stakes involved for each of us, but he felt panic all the same. I was sure of that.

“What can we do?” I asked. “I’m desperate here.”

“There’s not a lot we can do,” Alejandro said. “The supplies are all here, but the workers, the workers have demanded release to be with their families and vacate if they need to.”

I slammed my hand into the kitchen cabinet near my head. “That’s not good enough,” I said. “This delivery is coming. It’s coming, hurricane or no hurricane. And, you know as well as I do, the sender won’t take no for an answer.”

“I know, Sir,” Alejandro said. “The best we can do is build quickly, get started; I have two men who are very loyal, and very fast. They’re working as we speak. If luck is on our side, we can have the foundation set before the hurricane hits. Whether that will be enough to accept the shipment safely, I don’t know.”

His voice was serious, and each word felt like a nail in my coffin.

“Just do your best,” I said hoarsely, and I hung up the phone.

I collapsed into a chair, my head in my hands. Images of Lorinda and Antoine flooded my mind, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I thought back to the last conversation I’d had with Manuel Brown in which I had disappointed him. Where I hadn’t had done what I’d agreed to.

“Your wife will be very disappointed to hear that,” Manuel had said in a low, evil voice.

I didn’t bother to correct him that Lorinda wasn’t my wife. Antoine was my son, and we shared him; we were engaged to be married. Of course, at that moment, she was as much my wife as she would ever be, though I didn’t know it at the time.

“Let her go,” I whispered. “Please, just let them both go.”

“No,” Manuel said. “You seem to think that there’s some sort of negotiation at work here, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. You had a job to do, and you failed. Had you succeeded, your payment would have been the safe return of your wife and son. Now, your wife and son belong to me.”

In the background, I heard Lorinda scream. It wasn’t a scream of pain; it was a scream of rage. She was putting up a fight, trying to save her son. It nearly split me in two.

“Let me talk to her,” I demanded.

Manuel laughed. “And say what? What could you possibly say that would change the outcome of the future? No, no, Mr. White, you will have to say whatever words you can come up with to yourself, for your wife is no longer available.”

And, in a moment I will never forget as long as I live, Lorinda’s scream stopped. It didn’t fade or slow down; it broke off as if choked. Then, there was silence.

“What did you do?” I screamed into the phone.

“Be still, Mr. White,” Manuel said. “Remember, this is what happens when you disobey a simple order.”

Though it was a memory several years old now, it played out in my mind as if it was happening right before my eyes. Manuel was back with his demands… and he still had my son. I cursed out loud to the empty room. I felt powerless… impotent. What good was having all of the money in the world if it continuously cost you what was most dear?

For as long as I could remember, since my grade school days, I’d set my sights on being a millionaire when I grew up. I didn’t care how it worked out; the details truly hadn’t mattered. I’d wanted to keep everything legal, of course. Now, that thought made me laugh. I was one of the top five billionaires in the world, and not a single one of us had earned all our money a hundred percent honestly. I had stopped losing sleep over it, until moments like this. I never could have imagined how much all of my wealth would cost me… and it didn’t look like I was yet paid in full.

I stood up and walked out the door to my suite, anxious energy propelling me as if I was moving by remote control rather than under my own power. The build site for the arms drop was in a remote part of the island that was off the beaten path of the tourists but, due to the size of the island, still accessible by foot rather than by golf cart. I walked quickly along the path, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be watching my movements. The pressure in the air had dropped so much it was an effort to breathe; I imagined that I could actually see the swirl of the hurricane in the wind, though, of course, that was my imagination.

When I arrived at the site, Alejandro was there with two other men. The two men didn’t look up; Alejandro had instructed them to continue their work no matter what.

We had to shout to be heard over the noise of the wind and the rain.

“How large will the shipment be?” Alejandro asked.

“I don’t know,” I shouted back. “The last time, when it was sent to India, it was enough to fill a thirty by thirty foot space from floor to ceiling.” I looked at the space the two men had dug. It was, at most, ten by ten. “Of course, this shipment size will be somewhat limited by the size of the plane that can land on the water, but it will still be giant.” The shipment was to arrive by private plane to Belize City, then transported in unmarked trucks to the water’s edge. There, privately owned boats would divide the shipment and bring it to the island we were currently inhabiting. I shook my head. So much potential for catastrophe… even without the forces of nature that were threatening to wipe the island off the face of the Earth.

Alejandro was shaking his head. “It’s not enough. If you clear the hotel…”

Of course. A light pinged in my head loudly enough that I was sure I’d heard the sound itself. Evacuation meant a terrible drop in revenue for the hotel, but it also meant empty, deserted rooms. It meant all of the energy I typically spent masking my business, watching for anyone who might notice something amiss, could be spent solving this problem.

“I’m ordering an immediate evacuation,” I said. Alejandro nodded. “Tell your men to hold their work; we may be able to salvage this.”

I walked away as the rain began to pour down in torrents. I went to the front desk and paged my entire management team. Within a few minutes, everyone had gathered. Fear and anxiety were palpable in the air.

“I’m ordering a mandatory evacuation of the Legacy property,” I said, “effective immediately. Use the protocol and emergency procedures. Notify the guests, and activate the alarm system. I want to have this island cleared of our guests within the hour.”

There was no hesitation, no questions. Heads nodded and a flurry of activity ensued as my team stood up and moved to their individual tasks.

When they had all cleared the room, I clicked my iPad on and scanned the electronic blueprints of the property. I needed to find space for more than a thousand semi-automatic weapons, all scheduled to arrive at any time, storm be damned.

Cassie

I received notification to evacuate as I sat in the bar sipping, no, guzzling, a pina colada. I thought back to the first day of my vacation with Emma and how I didn’t think anything could get better than that first sip of that first pina colada. Now, that seemed like a lifetime ago.

I signed my tab, barely blinking at putting Brad’s suite number down on the slip of paper. By now, all of the staff knew I was sharing space with him. Fortunately, none of them cared. Or, if they did, they didn’t let on. Brad was their leader, and it was in all of their best interest to keep their eyes averted when anything questionable rolled around.

I thanked the bartender and wished him and his family safety; the locals had a choice whether to evacuate or not, though the evacuation was technically mandatory. I had no idea if the bartender was going to stay or go, but it wouldn’t make much sense for him to stay if all of the guests were gone.

The rain was crazy; heavier than any other rain I’d seen in my lifetime, and the wind had begun to pick up smaller objects and float them through the air. I raced back to Brad’s suite, my arm covering my head for protection. When I got into the suite, I slammed the door closed and realized I was breathless and soaking wet.

I grabbed a towel and tried to dry myself off. As I did so, I tried to check the weather online. The computer system in the room was down, undoubtedly the Legacy’s wifi had been torn apart, so I checked my phone. I had received a number of texts from Emma, and I responded to let her know that the evacuation was in process and that I was still safe.

Then, I jumped in the shower. For as long as I could remember, showering in the hottest water my skin could handle calmed me down. I let the water of Brad’s incredibly amazing shower wash over me, and I closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against the cool wall as the water pelted my back.

“Hi,” Brad’s voice echoed through the shower walls and I turned to see him standing in his towel in the open door. I scanned his face for signs of anger from earlier, but all I saw was the strain of the day, exhaustion at the leadership his job demanded.

“Hi,” I said, my voice softer than normal. I didn’t want to fight, and I knew I owed Brad a big fat apology for how I’d left earlier. “I’m sorry.”

He stepped into the shower and pulled me toward him. He had just come in from the rain and his body was cold against mine. He kissed me, and I tasted the cold rain on his lips as well as the warm water pouring down on us.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said. “I’ve made my way in this world by performing one power play after another. Sometimes, I don’t know how to shut it off.” He wrapped his arms around me and dropped his hands to my ass. He drew my hips toward him, and I felt his erection pressing between my legs. I spread my legs apart and then closed them again over his cock, squeezing it between my thighs. Putting one hand on the wall to stabilize myself, I wrapped my other arm around his upper back.

“I’m still sorry,” I said. “Forgive me?”

“If you forgive me,” he said, and he pulled away to look at me. He grabbed my wrists and pushed me gently against the wall, tilting the shower head away from us and toward the opposite wall. I let him restrain me; his hands pressing my arms against the shower tiles aroused me like nothing else could in that moment. If he wanted to feel powerful, I was completely down for that.

“I want you,” I whispered. “Do we have time?”

“We’re not going anywhere,” he said. “The storm is breaking.”

I pulled back, though I had nowhere to go, and looked at him. “What?”

He smiled and shook his head. “It’s stalled out about a hundred and fifty miles out of the hurricane evacuation zone. The weather reports say it’s in a holding pattern. It may not reach the shore after all.”

“But the mandatory evacuation,” I protested. “You sent everyone back to the mainland.”

A shadow passed over his face and I could tell, though I couldn’t put my finger on it, that he was hiding something. Or, if not hiding something, perhaps not revealing the whole truth.

“Do you want to talk,” he growled, “or do you want to fuck?”

“Well,” I said in my most alluring, teasing voice, “I think the answer to that is obvious.”

Brad smiled and turned the water off. He grabbed my hand with one of his, and grabbed two towels with his other hand. When we got to the bedroom, he wrapped me up in one of the plush, warm towels and kissed me.

“Lay down,” he commanded softly. I complied, and he laid down on top of me. He began to kiss me, moving his tongue along my collarbone. I wrapped my legs around his hips and pulled him to me. His hands groped my breasts and I groaned at the sensation of my nipples against his warm palms. He shifted, and I used the moment to maneuver out from under him. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Lay down,” I said, echoing his earlier words. I didn’t know if it was the drama of the day, the drinks I’d had at the bar, or the hot shower and the promise of make up sex, but I was in the mood to be on top and I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

He arched an eyebrow at me, but he didn’t move.

“You’re in charge all day long,” I said. “Lay back. Enjoy yourself. Let me drive tonight.”

I watched him contemplate it. The struggle in his brain to give up control to me was fascinating. I licked my lips and dangled my breasts in his face as he decided. He smiled, and I lowered myself onto his cock. He filled me, and the sensation of having total control over our speed, our pace, was intoxicating. I spread my legs wider, my knees bent on either side of his hips, and I began to thrust up and down. I leaned back, arching my spine, pushing my full weight onto my quads and knees. I knew I had hit a good angle when Brad cried out, a loud, breathless gasp that was the absolute sound of him giving up his control to me… at least for the moment.

“Slow down,” he panted. “I’m gonna cum… I want… I want to wait… for you.” His words came in staggered stabs on his breath, and I could feel him fighting his urge to release, to flood me with himself. I paused and I felt his body relax, rigid tension sliding away as he thought I’d given him a reprieve.

I smiled, leaned down toward him, letting him lick and suck my nipples. His mouth closed over my nipple and I groaned, a shock of heat moving straight from my nipple to my clit. He moved his hand to the throbbing nub and began to move his thumb in slow, languid swirls.

“Fuck,” I groaned.

“Teasing,” he said.

“Two can play,” I reminded him, and I began to move my hips again, slowly, impossibly slowly, mirroring the pace of his thumb on my clit. As I moved, I clinched the muscles of my pelvic floor, and I felt him shudder beneath me.

“What are you doing to me?” he moaned.

“Shhh,” I whispered, and slowly began to increase my pace. I sped up with each breath and I grabbed the headboard to give myself extra stability. I pounded against him harder and harder until a waterfall of heat and pressure pushed over me and I came, crying out and continuing to slam against him, drawing him deeper into me through my climax.

When he came, it was through a flood of breath and groans, rhythmic gasps in tandem with his ragged breathing, and I felt him stiffen, pause, then explode. His hot cum spilled into me and I felt the itch of a second orgasm pushing through me. I grabbed his hand and moved it to my clit. He knew exactly what was happening, and, before I knew it, he’d flipped me over onto my back and lay next to me, giving my clit his full attention. I left my legs spread and widened them, inviting his hand to push harder, his fingers to move deeper, and I came again. This orgasm was different, riding the wave of the first that had nearly spent me. I felt my body convulsing, yet I couldn’t make a sound. When we were finished, we lay side by side listening to the rain pelt against the windows.

“You’re sure,” I said at one point.

“I wouldn’t keep you here if it wasn’t safe,” he said. “No matter how in charge you think you are.”

I slapped his arm lightly, and I thought I heard him say something else… but I drifted off to sleep.

***

Several days later, I awoke in a strange bed. It took me a few moments to recognize my surroundings and, when I did, I braced for the wave of sadness I knew would wash over me. I was in my own bed, back at home in New York.

I rolled over to grab my phone, hoping to see a familiar name on my notifications, but… nothing. I sighed and pulled my pillow over my head.

A moment later, my phone rang. I snapped up, startled, and answered it without looking to see who it was.

“Hello?” I asked, wincing at the desperate hope in my voice.

“Exactly what I thought,” Emma’s voice said through the speaker. “You’re depressed. Get dressed; I’m taking you to brunch.” Sunday brunch in New York City was an absolute necessity, and I couldn’t argue. I agreed to meet Emma in a half hour after threatening her that if she showered or wore anything other than her nastiest clothes, I’d walk right out. “Agreed,” she said. “See you soon.”

While I was getting ready, my phone buzzed again. Some day of rest, I thought as I reached for it. I saw my editor’s name on my caller ID and I sighed.

“Hey,” I said. “What’s up?”

“What’s up is you need to pack a bag again. Your story on Legacy Properties is an absolute hit, and we need you to do another one asap.”

At the sound of Legacy, my heart sped up and I felt a snake of anxiety move through my stomach.

“Where do you want me to go?” I asked, crossing my fingers that it was nowhere in the Southern Hemisphere.

“London,” she said. “We’ve got you on a flight to Heathrow that leave on Tuesday morning. You’ll be there for three days, then back again. Can you swing it?”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked, laughing so she would know I was kidding. “Forcing me to London; I may have to report you.”

We laughed for a moment, and she filled me in on the rest of the details. When I left my apartment, I was soundly late for brunch, but I had renewed hope: I was going to go to London and check out one of Brad’s other properties. Of course I would tell him I was going to be there… just maybe not until after I’d arrived.

Brad

After dealing with the fallout from the Belizean hurricane and the evacuation, I headed back to Legacy headquarters in California. I had three headquarters locations, one in California, one in France, and one in India. Eventually, I’d have a fourth in Africa and, if I could maintain the momentum, a fifth and final headquarters location in Australia.

Though I knew Cassie was safely three thousand miles away in New York, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. It wasn’t just the sex; it was the night of the hurricane, the night she had taken charge. I shook my head. I’d never had a woman do anything like that before. I thought about all of the things I’d given up with the money I’d earned. I’d forgotten that happiness was possible to any degree when I’d lost Antoine and Lorinda. Though it was nothing I’d ever say out loud to anyone, with Cassie, I had seen a glimpse of happiness. Just a glimmer, but it was there.

So, why wasn’t I calling her? I shook my head as I poured a scotch and moved to the deck. The sun was shining and the Santa Ana winds were moving heated air all around. I knew the answer; I couldn’t call her. I couldn’t drag her into my life, for both her protection and for mine. If she found out about Antoine, about Lorinda, she would blame me. Worst case, she would call the police. I didn’t have a leg to stand on with the cops. To say nothing of me, I knew that involving myself with a woman was nothing less than irresponsible and could even be deadly. I couldn’t imagine anything happening to Cassie.

I walked back inside, vowing to dive into my work. I had nearly a dozen new properties opening, and I was keeping a close eye on the arms delivery to Belize; I didn’t have time to be thinking about Cassie, Lorinda, or any other woman.

I fired up my email and sorted through the spam looking for messages from clients and my managers. I blinked when I saw Cassie’s name come up, sure that I was seeing things. My heart started to beat faster, and I clicked on the message.

Hi Brad,
Just got an assignment in London at a Legacy property. Thought I’d let you know, though I’m sure you’re not going to be in the area. I hope you’re well.
Cassie

I stared at the message. Thought I’d let you know, though I’m sure you’re not going to be in the area. Was that an invitation? A challenge?

Cassie

My plane touched down in London early in the morning, and I checked into my room at Legacy Suites by ten o’clock. I flopped down on the bed and sighed, grateful to finally be on solid ground after two plane delays and a long layover in Amsterdam. My luggage was supposed to be on its way up, so, when there was a knock at the door, I didn’t think anything of it.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“It’s your luggage, ma’am,” said a young voice from the other side. I opened the door and saw a bellhop in full uniform standing outside my door. There was no sign of my luggage. However, in his hands, he held a large basket wrapped in plastic.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Compliments of the owner, ma’am,” he said. “I’ve also been instructed to escort you to your new room. Your luggage is there.” He smiled apologetically as I sighed, louder than I’d intended.

“What’s the issue with this room?” I asked. “It’s perfectly fine, and, even better, I’m already in it.”

“I have orders, ma’am, to bring you to the VIP suite on the twentieth floor.” His expression and his voice were kind, but they contained an edge of nervousness. A tone that begged me, wordlessly, to just go along with the plan. I imagined him going back to his manager and saying I’d refused… the manager having to call Brad and tell him… the thought made me smile.

“I won’t hassle you,” I said, “don’t worry. Let me get my purse.” I closed the door and snapped a few quick pictures of the room before I grabbed my bag. The VIP suite would be great, but I was a journalist first and I needed to make sure my articles were accurate for the average person, not just someone banging the owner… though the memory of Brad moving through my mind made me smile more broadly than I had so far that day.

I walked with the bellhop to the elevator and he pushed the 20 on the door. When the doors opened, we walked out into a hallway with only two doors, labeled A and B.

“What’s the difference?” I asked.

“Ah, A is the Presidential Suite, ma’am,” the bellhop said. “And B is your suite, the VIP.” He opened the door with a flourish and gestured for me to enter. He followed with the basket and looked the place over, undoubtedly running through a checklist in his mind he’d gone through hundreds of times.

“Thank you, uh,” I began.

“Simon, ma’am,” he said, a slight blush rising in his cheeks. He held out his hand and I shook it, adding a tip to his palm. “Thank you, ma’am.” He began to walk toward the door. “One of the features of the suite is an in-room massage, which you can schedule at your convenience. Just call the front desk.”

He tipped his hat at me and I closed my door, then looked around. There was no chance anyone other than Brad was responsible for my upgrade. A free in-room massage? I shrugged. May as well enjoy the amenities. I grabbed a bottle of champagne from the bar and sat on the bed, flipping on the tv. While I caught up on the news of London and drank a flute of champagne, I checked out the features of the hotel.

An hour later, I stood up and stretched. There was no question, Bradley White knew his stuff when it came to hospitality. The London property was completely different from the Belize property—intentionally so, and, undoubtedly, by necessity. Still, it was hard to believe the two were owned by the same person… and that there was only one owner instead of a conglomerate.

I realized I was starving, and, at the same time, felt a sudden emptiness. While the hotel was completely different from what I’d experienced in Belize, it wasn’t hard to see Brad in the details of this hotel, and it made me miss him.

I checked my watch. It was too late in New York to call Emma or my editor. I didn’t want to go out. If I’d been in a better mood, I would have ventured out to at least the hotel main floor to check out the restaurants and the casino, one of the features of the London Legacy property. But, I felt jetlagged and, honestly, a little crabby.

My eyes kept drawing back to the massage menu, and I decided that was at least one thing I could do that would both help me relax and center and would benefit my job. A hotel that offered complimentary, in-room massages to its VIP guests was definitely going to interest my readers.

I called the front desk.

“Hi, this is Cassie Young in 20B. I was told I could schedule an in-room massage?”

“Yes, Ms. Young, of course. When would you like the massage?”

I hesitated. “Um… do you happen to have anyone available now?” I asked.

There was a pause at the other end. “Um, one moment, Ms. Young, let me check. I think we can accommodate that request fairly easily, just hold on a moment.”

I waited, feeling embarrassed that I had even asked. Nothing like being an overly demanding American right off the bat.

A moment later, the receptionist came back onto the line. “Of course, Ms. Young; is an hour enough time for you to get ready? We can send the masseuse up at four o’clock.”

I smiled, realizing I’d been holding my breath. I released it and closed my eyes. “That’s perfect,” I said. “Do I need to do anything to the room to prepare?”

“Of course not,” the receptionist said genuinely. “You’ve just had a long trip; you relax and let us do the work.”

I hung up, unlocked my door, and took a quick shower. I had another glass of champagne, then flipped through the channels mindlessly until there was a courtesy knock at the door.

“Come in!” I called.

“Ms. Young?” A man’s voice called out, and I walked from the bedroom into the living room and entry to see a man in a masseuse uniform standing with a massage table in one hand and a duffel bag in the other.

“Yes, what’s your name?”

“My name is Antoine,” the man said. He flashed a smile and I felt warmth spread through me. He was an older man, in his forties at least, and he gave off a very calming, relaxed energy. “I’ll set up in here. Why don’t you go into your room and get changed into a robe, then come out when you’re ready.”

When I came out dressed in my robe, the living room had been transformed. Antoine had lit candles and had dimmed the lights. A set of speakers were set up on the table, and relaxing, instrumental music had replaced the voices of the talking heads on the tv.

“Ms. Young,” Antoine greeted me.

“Please, call me Cassie,” I said. I walked over to the massage table. It was covered with blankets, and I felt the manufactured warmth of an electric blanket beneath the covering.

“Yes, Cassie, of course. I have a selection of oils here; would you like to choose one?” He waved to the table where several dark bottles of oil sat. I smelled each, selecting a combination of lavender and sandalwood. “That’s one of my favorites,” Antoine said as I held it out to him questioningly. “I’ll leave you to disrobe. Please, lie on your stomach; I’ll begin my work on your back.”

I always found this few minutes to be the most nerve wracking of a massage; standing naked in the moments before submerging my body beneath the covers of the massage table, waiting for the masseuse to walk in accidentally and catch me in the act. Because of this fear, I always tore my robe off and dove under the blanket, my heart racing. I laid down, my face resting comfortably in the doughnut shaped rest. I heard Antoine enter the room.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Please,” he said, as he began to rub my back over the blankets, “let me know if the pressure is adequate, or if you’d like more or less.”

I doubted it would be anything less than perfect, and, as Antoine began to rub my body down, pulling the blankets down to expose my back and rubbing his hands with oil, I found the pressure he used to be absolutely perfect.

I probably fell asleep. It was easy to do, with the scent of lavender, the soft lights and music, and Antoine’s hands rhythmically stretching and pressing my muscles. I drifted in and out.

“How does that feel?” Antoine asked.

“It feels amazing,” I said. “What happened to your voice?” I was still riding the fuzzy line of consciousness, so I couldn’t put my finger on it exactly, but something had changed. Antoine’s touch had hardened, though it was still comforting. His hands moved with confidence over my body, as if they had been there before.

And then I realized.

“You,” I said, my muscles freezing.

“Hi Cass,” Brad said softly. “Don’t move. Just lay as you are and enjoy.”

I shook my head. “As if that’s possible,” I said, and twisted my torso up, lifting my head from the headrest. There he stood, more real than life, sexier than my imagination had given him credit for.

“You need to mind me better,” he whispered.

“You need to stop sneaking up on me,” I retorted. “When did you slip in? What did you do to Antoine?” I looked around, then glanced back at Brad with teasing suspicion. “You didn’t kill him, did you? He was a good masseuse.”

Brad laughed. “No, I didn’t kill him. Antoine has been a masseuse at this hotel since before the Legacy was even a thought in my mind. He’s the only male masseuse we have on staff, and I owe him big time for this.”

He leaned down and kissed my ear, slowly pulling the blanket off of me, exposing my bare ass to the cool air.

“Mmmm,” he said. “Come here.” He lifted me up, my body smooth and slick with oil, and he kissed me.

“Fuck you feel good,” I moaned. He wore jeans and a white button down shirt, which I dispensed with immediately. His broad chest felt like coming home under my fingers, my palms pressing against his rock hard muscles.

“You’re good enough to eat,” he whispered, moving his kiss from my mouth down the length of my body, stopping at my hips.

I laid back as he began to explore my body. Questions flooded through my mind: how had he gotten here so quickly? Why was he here? Were we dating? Were we about to have another fling? The more questions that pushed into my mind, the more I wanted to lose myself in Brad’s touch.

“I don’t understand you,” I said as a summary of all of the activity in my brain.

“I’m simple,” he said.

“You’re a billionaire,” I said. “You’re a billionaire with a dark secret.” My words all ran together, thoughts pouring out of my head stream-of-consciousness style, my mouth barely aware of what I was saying.

Brad pulled away and looked at me sharply. “What do you mean?”

“Hmmm?” I asked dreamily.

“Dark secret. What do you mean?”

I laughed. “Don’t get so cranky,” I said. “Every billionaire has a deep, dark secret. It’s common knowledge. I just have to figure out what yours is.” I cracked one eye open and looked at him. “And, I will… I’m a smarty pants journalist.”

“Shhh,” Brad said. “You won’t figure out my secret. I’m going to keep you far too busy to even figure out your own name.” And he plunged his fingers into me, two and then a third, and circled my clit with his lips as he flicked his tongue back and forth.

“Cassie who?” I asked. And I laid back, trying to ignore the small warning flaring in my brain. You won’t figure out my secret.

The Billionaire’s LEGACY

Unexpected Incidents

Sarah J. Brooks

Cassie

I’d said it in jest: Every billionaire has a deep, dark secret. Brad had just surprised me by stepping in as my masseuse, which had led to an incredible, marathon sex session. This morning, he woke me up to an absolutely amazing brunch that he’d had room service deliver to my suite. It was a huge spread, and it mostly satisfied the incredible appetite I’d built up from getting my brains fucked out all night long. Brad had some work he needed to get done, and he kissed me goodbye, promising to text me later.

I closed the door, leaned against it, and sighed. My comment about him being a billionaire and having some deep, dark secret had been a joke, or, if not a joke, then just some random comment that had come out of my mouth without me really thinking. I’d expected him to laugh. But, not only had he not laughed, he had looked at me with an expression I’d never seen on his face before. His voice had a suspicious edge to it, a guarded tone, strong enough to suggest that, if I hadn’t suspected him of having a deep, dark secret, I ought to start.

My journalistic spidey-sense was tingling, and I bit the corner of my lower lip, a habit I’d always had when I was thinking of something important. I dressed quickly and grabbed my computer, once again researching Bradley White. I’d researched him before, of course, as much as I ever researched a subject, and probably even more given our… situation. I’d never seen anything that hinted at a dark past, or a current secret. Of course, I hadn’t really been looking for that sort of thing.

There wasn’t anything this time around, either. Everything I could find made Brad seem like he was completely on the level; he was a philanthropist, had dabbled in politics, and volunteered at soup kitchens on the major holidays. In every picture, he was smiling, his easy, open grin not betraying even so much as a hidden bank account.

Still, my instincts were almost always spot on, and his response when I’d mentioned it was off. Not to mention, in every movie I’d ever seen, every book I’d ever read, the billionaire did have a deep, dark secret. And, I realized with a heaviness in my stomach, the secret was usually something illegal, deadly, or both.

I closed my laptop and sighed, looking out my window at the city of London. It was gray and overcast, typical London fog, but I was still itching to get out of the house and enjoy the day. Maybe with my mind occupied by playing the role of tourist, I’d be able to make more sense of what it was about Brad’s response that was sticking with me.

I dressed in skinny jeans and a light red sweater, finishing the look with a pair of brown boots with a low heel. I pulled my hair back into a loose, messy bun, and slid on my mid-length camel trench coat. I walked through the lobby, waving to the concierge on my way out the door.

I did some shopping, mostly of the window- variety, though I did buy a cute necklace, another pair of boots, and a sweater. I had vowed to not buy anything else and was on my way back to the hotel when I walked past a boutique and saw the most gorgeous dress in the window. It drew me into the store, and, when I tried it on, I couldn’t stop staring at myself in the full length mirror.

The dress was skin tight, and it showed off all of my curves. It was black, strapless, and short. The rusching on the sides drew attention to my hourglass figure. I turned in the three-way mirror, and the salesperson walked up behind me.

“That dress was made for you,” he said, smiling. “Do you feel fabulous in it?”

I smiled, feeling a light blush move up my cheeks. “I kind of do,” I admitted. It was, by far, the most beautiful dress I’d ever worn, and I’d never even seen anything like it.

“It’s exquisite. You must buy it. Almost every woman that comes in here tries it on, and it looks like trash on them. You… it’s your dress.”

I looked at the price tag and groaned. “I’d have to take out a second mortgage on a house I don’t even own to afford it,” I said.

“That’s what credit cards are for,” he said with a mischievous, conspiratorial grin.

“You’re terrible!” I said, shaking my head. But, as terrible as he may be, he was also right. I really needed to own that dress. I did some quick math in my head, and the results weren’t great. I’d used the “that’s what credit cards are for” excuse too much lately, including that day with the too-expensive boots sitting with my purse on the floor of the dressing room.

I looked at myself once more, mentally saying goodbye to the dress, turning to check myself out at every angle. I thought about how Brad would react seeing me in the dress, and I felt myself getting wet just thinking about it. It was a killer dress, and I imagined slipping into it for dinner without telling him I’d bought it. Walking out to greet him, seeing his jaw drop…

“Ugh!” I exclaimed. “Okay! I’ll buy it! Stop pressuring me!” I grinned at the salesperson and he grinned back at me, nodding his head.

“Shall I wrap it for you, or are you going to wear it like the second skin it is?” he asked.

“You can wrap it,” I said. “I’ll save it for a special occasion… like dinner later tonight.”

I slipped back into my regular clothes, which now made me feel completely frumpy, and walked to the counter with my purse. For one panicked moment, I couldn’t find my credit card. I dumped the contents of my purse onto the counter and found it, finally, loose in the bottom.

The salesperson handed the package over to me and made me promise to stop by the next time I was wearing it.

“I promise,” I said, and I left the store. I walked quickly back to my hotel room, avoiding even looking into any other store windows. The dress had set me back almost a month’s salary, which, even considering my recent promotion, was barely justifiable. But, I set the dress on my bed and looked at it. It seemed to call to me, to beg me to put it on.

As if reading my mind, my phone pinged.

Dinner 2nite. Wear something special.

I smiled at Brad’s text. Responded.

Can’t wait. Meet u in the hotel bar. I’ll be dressed to kill.

That’s a high expectation to set, he texted back. Don’t disappoint me.

Don’t worry, I responded, smiling. Then, I shut off my phone.

I’d spent most of the afternoon shopping, so I didn’t have a lot of time to get ready. I showered, did my hair and make up carefully, then slid into the dress. If possible, it felt even better, the soft fabric cool against my skin, still flushed from the heat of my shower. I slid into thigh high black silk stockings, and finished the look with three inch black patent leather heels. I shivered when I saw the full effect in the mirror, then smiled. I didn’t think I’d ever felt so sexy.

The only thing I didn’t have was a proper handbag; I was stuck with the one I’d used earlier that day. I emptied out everything I didn’t think I needed, leaving only my wallet, phone, lipstick, and mascara. At least it was black, though it was clunkier than I would want.

I took the elevator downstairs and sat at an open seat in the bar. The restaurant bar was full; it was dinner time and those who weren’t seated in the restaurant had either opted for seats at the bar or were waiting there for their table.

The bartender was someone I hadn’t seen there yet during my stay. He was young, definitely a student, and had his blond hair cut in a floppy haircut that made him look even younger than he was. He glanced at me and did a double take that made me smile; the power of the dress, I knew. He scurried over to me, put a coaster down in front of me, and apologized for making me wait.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I just got here. Could I have a glass of your house red wine? I’m in Suite 20B.”

“Right away, Ma’am,” he said. I watched his eyes as he registered that 20B was the VIP suite. He poured the wine and returned.

“Can I see your ID?” he asked, a marked hesitation in his voice. I arched my eyebrows. I wasn’t exactly old, but I definitely looked over twenty-one.

“I’m old enough to drink alcohol,” I said, with just the smallest amount of attitude in my voice.

The bartender blushed. “It’s not that, Ma’am,” he stammered. “It’s… we need proof you’re a guest…” He was looking over at Hartford, the maître d’, who came rushing over. He’d heard the exchange.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Cassie,” he said. “James is new. You don’t need to show us ID.”

“Thank you, but now I’m just wondering where it is!” I said, reaching for my purse to search through it. It wasn’t in my wallet, which, of course, it wouldn’t be. I always carried it separately from my driver’s license and money. I tried to picture the things I’d taken out of my purse when I’d emptied it; my passport wasn’t on that small pile, I knew. “Shit,” I said out loud. “I have no idea where my passport is.” Hartford looked at me. The bartender, sensing a problem he couldn’t solve, escaped to wait on a couple that had just sat down.

I thought back to the last time I’d seen my passport. I’d needed to show it as proof of my signature when I’d bought the dress this afternoon, but, after that, I hadn’t seen it. I wondered if I’d dropped it in the store or on the sidewalk on the way back to the hotel.

“We can have someone check your room for you while you’re at dinner, Ms. Cassie,” Hartford said soothingly. “Don’t let it worry you; I’m sure it just got mixed in with some of your bags today.”

“Who is this beautiful woman, and how did I get so lucky?” Brad whispered into my ear over my shoulder. His warm hands slipped around my waist, and I leaned back into him, my body immediately moving into arousal at his touch.

I turned to face him, and he scanned me from head to toe, taking me in. For a moment, I forgot all about my passport.

“Holy smokes,” he whistled. “You weren’t kidding.”

“Just a little thing I picked up today at a boutique.” I smiled and winked at Hartford. He smiled and slipped away.

“I’m suddenly very hungry for something other than dinner,” Brad growled, his voice low and throaty. His grip returned, this time to my thighs, and he squeezed my quads with his warm, broad palms. I smiled and stood.

“Shall we, then?” I asked, playing the innocent. “I’m starving.” I waited as he took me in again, this time seeing the full effect of the dress on me from head to toe.

“You’re in so much trouble,” he whispered, taking my hand. He turned and smiled at Hartford, then led me out of the bar.

“Where are we going for dinner?” I asked.

Brad

When I woke the next morning, the first thing my eyes settled on was that fucking amazing dress Cassie had worn to dinner last night. It was crumpled up in a ball on the floor where I’d basically torn it off of her after she teased me all through dinner with it. I smiled, remembering the feel of the dress under my hands, the sensation of it melting off her body as I pulled it down, the sight of her stepping out of it in those hot stockings and heels. I’d told her to keep the stockings on, at least for a while, and my eyes traveled to the one that had gotten tangled up in the base of the bedside lamp. I had no idea where the other one had ended up. I reached out and stroked her silky thigh, the warmth of her body sending an arousal signal straight through me. I rolled toward her and kissed her lightly.

She moved, breathing deeply as she came out of her sleep.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Mmmmm, hi,” she said in a high pitched, sleepy voice. She didn’t open her eyes, just reached out toward me. Her hand found my chest and she began to run her fingertips along my abs, an action that didn’t decrease my arousal one bit.

“I’m still hungry,” I said, and I kissed her deeply. She rolled onto her back, awake now, and I climbed on top of her. She spread her legs immediately and I plunged myself between them, both of us turned on and ready for action. She wrapped her legs around me and drew me to her; I felt her flexing her vaginal walls against my cock as I thrust into her, and I groaned. “You’re so good,” I said, and I came, spilling into her. It took only a few moments, not nearly long enough by most women’s standards, but I wasn’t worried about that. Cassie and I had developed a pattern much like eating; sometimes we liked a long, luxurious meal, and sometimes we liked a quick snack. I rolled off of her and she smiled, her eyes open and bright.

“Better than a bagel with cream cheese,” she said, grinning.

“I should say,” I said, getting out of bed.

“Where are you going?” she asked, putting a slight pout into her voice.

“Work,” I said. “Don’t forget about the dinner party tonight. You could wear you-know-what again.” We weren’t going to see anyone we’d seen last night, and that dress was a complete knockout.

“Well, it would save me the trouble of figuring out what to wear. Hey, have you seen my passport?”

I thought for a moment. “Nope,” I said. “Is it missing?”

She rolled onto her stomach and looked at me, the sheet pulled down to her hips, treating my eyes to a feast of soft skin, her shoulders and back bare.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I think so. It’s not a big deal. Just keep an eye out, yeah?”

“It’s not a big deal until you try to leave London,” I said, tying my shoes.

“Well, then, maybe I just shouldn’t leave London.” She tossed something at me; it hit my chest and fell to the floor. I looked down; it was her other stocking.

“I’m keeping this,” I said, picking it up and stuffing it into the inside pocket of my jacket. She grinned.

“See you tonight,” she said, then she rolled toward the wall.

I grabbed my briefcase and wallet, tucked my phone into my pocket, and headed downstairs to the Legacy Suites main office. The second I closed the suite door behind me, the smile disappeared from my face. I needed to deal with a new shipment that was scheduled to come into London later this week. I frowned as I rode the elevator down, checking my text messages. I had nine from an unknown number, all of them with single words that seemed to make no sense. I deleted them, then focused on the messages from my London business partner, Simon.

Rather than respond to his texts, I called him.

“We have an issue with the shipment location,” he said immediately. I sighed. I’d already had my share of difficulties with the recent Belize shipment; I really wasn’t in the mood for another. The issues in bigger cities were never related to the storage facilities, though; they were related to making the shipment as invisible as possible. We needed to make it hide in plain sight.

“What’s the issue?” I asked impatiently. “And why hasn’t it been taken care of?”

“Dion is dead,” Simon said, and I couldn’t hide the gasp that came out of my mouth.

“When?” I asked.

“This morning. Early. I got the call around four.”

“Who?”

“Who do you think?”

“Right,” I said. “Okay, where is the shipment at? Has it reached London?”

“It’s scheduled to arrive tonight, a little after midnight. I suggest we meet during the dinner tonight. I can take care of things during the day today; I just wanted you to be aware of the situation.”

“I’ll handle it,” I said quickly. Anytime there was a situation involving a shipment, I wanted to deal with it personally. As long as Manuel Brown was running things, and, I reminded myself firmly, he did run things, as long as he had Antoine, I had to make sure that I handled everything. Even my closest, most trusted associates couldn’t be trusted with my life’s blood. I closed my eyes, thinking of Lorinda, of her scream cutting off suddenly, the silence that followed. Even I couldn’t be trusted sometimes.

“What?” Simon said. I paused. Had I said something out loud?

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Just that I’ll handle everything. I’ll be in contact this afternoon, and we can connect tonight at the dinner.”

I clicked off my phone and rubbed my forehead with my hand. Just once, I wanted something to go according to plan.

Cassie

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, shaking Simon’s hand. Brad had just introduced me to his business partner, a tall, attractive man who wore a suit almost as well as Brad. It was easy to see that the two got along well. “How long have you and Brad been in business together?” I was curious enough, but I also thought again of the secret I was sure Brad was hiding. Perhaps researching Simon would reveal some new information. I committed his name to memory and vowed to look him up as soon as I got to my computer.

“Long enough that he knows all my deep, dark secrets,” Brad said, winking at me and grinning.

I smiled back, but I felt that same spike of tension push through my stomach.

“Funny,” I said, letting him know that I knew he was referring to our earlier conversation. He was trying to cover it up with a joke now, but it wasn’t going to work; I knew something was up.

“This guy is a damn comedian,” Simon said, clapping Brad on the shoulder. “Let’s go get a drink and catch up on business? Cassie, do you mind if I steal him away for a few minutes?”

“Not at all,” I said. I turned to Brad. “I’m going to call the Embassy about my passport.” I’d searched my room and Brad’s from top to bottom, gone back to the boutique where I’d bought the dress, and left word with the hotel’s front desk that my passport was missing, and it still hadn’t turned up. I was scheduled to fly back to the States in just a few days, and I needed my passport.

Brad nodded. “We’ll only be a few minutes,” he said. “When you’re done with your phone call, just head back here to the bar. I’ll come find you.”

I watched Brad and Simon walk away, admiring the view, and then I stepped out into the cool night to call the Embassy. After a frustrating few minutes trying to work my way through the maze of “press six for more options,” I hung up, exasperated. I could go to the Embassy itself, but not until tomorrow. And, I didn’t even know if they would be able to help me. It looked as though I’d be in London longer than I thought… which required a call to Emma, who was apartment sitting for me, and to my editor, who was expecting me back to meet a deadline.

I walked back in and sat at the bar, sipping a glass of red wine and people watching while I waited for Brad and Simon to return. The dinner party was a fundraising event for an organization in charge of finding missing and exploited children. Brad was one of the founding members, and he had, according to the speaker, given hundreds of thousands of dollars to help the organization since its beginning. I looked around, my journalist senses engaged completely, watching for anything out of the ordinary. The dining area was full of couples and small groups, everyone dressed in tuxedos and cocktail dresses. I didn’t see anyone I recognized from the hotel, and no one stood out as seeming out of place. I realized I had nothing but a vague suspicion based on how Brad had reacted, and I had no solid evidence that he was hiding anything. Perhaps, I thought, I should stop looking for something to be wrong and just enjoy the fact that I’m dating a hot billionaire.

“Can I get you another drink, Miss?” the bartender asked. I jumped at the sound of his voice, then smiled as I saw Brad walking back into the room. He walked toward me with purpose, and I recognized the look on his face.

“No thank you,” I said. “I believe my date and I are leaving.” I slipped off the bar stool and walked toward Brad. He slipped his arm around me and leaned in.

“I want to see what’s under that dress,” he murmured into my ear.

“I think that can be arranged,” I said, smiling back. He said his goodbyes quickly and he walked me to the car. We got back to the hotel in record time, and we went straight to the room. I was surprised Brad didn’t even stop to say hello to the desk staff, but I didn’t complain.

When he keyed into the suite, he immediately turned to me and pushed me up against the closed door, his lips on mine and his hands on me. I felt heat and arousal surge through me, my blood growing hotter. I reached my arms up, my hands on his shoulders, and he grabbed my wrists, roughly pushing them behind my back. I grinned, and I felt his mouth do the same as we kissed.

“Like it rough?” he asked.

“I like it when you handle me,” I said. I struggled against his grip, knowing that he would allow me to break free if I wasn’t enjoying it… and knowing that I loved every second of it.

“I’m going to handle every bit of you tonight,” He said, keeping my hands bound behind me and picking me up, squeezing me against him. He released my hands and I put them around his shoulders as I wrapped my legs around his waist. My skirt slid up to my waist, and he tucked his hands under my ass, feeling the flesh of my rear between my g-string and my stockings. He lightly slapped my ass cheek and I felt a shock like electricity shoot straight to my clit. As he carried me, my clit rubbed against him, arousing me, starting my build to orgasm even before he had my clothes off. I rolled my eyes and groaned with pleasure.

He dumped me on the bed and climbed between my legs, tugging my dress up higher. He pulled my g-string off quickly and spread my legs wider with his hand. His tongue plunged into me, and I moaned. He thrust his tongue in and out, lapping up my wetness and creating a flood between my legs. He kissed my thighs, teasing me, and I wiggled my hips, wanting him to move back inside me.

“Want something?” he grinned, looking up at me.

“You know what I want,” I gasped. I wanted his fingers, his tongue, his cock, I wanted all of him.

He sat back for a moment, pulling off his shirt, unbuttoning it and tossing it onto the floor. He peeled off his white undershirt and treated me to a view of his perfect, chiseled chest, still tan from his time in Belize. He quickly dispensed with his pants, and I sat up, reaching behind my neck to begin to unzip my dress.

“No,” he said, stopping me. “Leave the dress on. I want to fuck it.”

I arched my eyebrows at him and leaned back, forgetting I was wearing anything at all as he returned to the space between my legs, radiating heat. He kissed my inner thighs and licked the outside of my pussy, then he slid two fingers into me and pressed his thumb to my engorged clit. I groaned, the sensations moving through me hard and fast, his touch exactly the right pressure in all the right places. My orgasm was rising steadily, and I pressed myself into his hand, reaching for him, bringing his mouth to my clit. He understood and moved his thumb, replacing it with his lips. He took my clit in his mouth and sucked while he finger fucked me, his rhythm forceful and consistent, until my climax rolled over me in an excited rush of adrenaline and sensation. I cried out and he kept going, staying with me through my entire orgasm, until my final shudder, until my legs collapsed into jelly and I let out one final groan of pleasure.

He kissed me, my own salty taste on his lips, and laid on top of me. The pressure of his body on mine was arousing in itself, and I felt his hard, insistent cock twitching by my right thigh.

“Someone is feeling neglected,” I smiled, reaching down to stroke his cock.

“You better fix that,” he said. “I think you’re the only one who can take care of it.”

“You may be right,” I said, and I rolled out from under him. He rolled over and I sat beside him, giving him a full view of the top of the dress as I leaned down to suck his cock.

***

I ordered my coffee and sat down at an empty table by the window, waiting for my name to be called, considering my options. After a very frustrating trip to the Embassy, I was at a loss as to what to do about my passport.

I texted Brad, letting him know I’d had no luck.

Let me try, he’d responded. I have some connections there.

Well, shit, why didn’t you just do that in the first place? I wondered, but I didn’t text him that. I knew I was just frustrated and in need of caffeine. I looked out the window and watched the city street. It was quiet, I thought, for a Saturday. A man stood at a newspaper stand, and he caught my attention. He was standing not like someone who was casually perusing the newspaper; he was standing like someone who wanted to look like he was casually perusing the newspaper. I narrowed my eyes; he looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him.

The barista called my name and I went to fetch my coffee. When I sat back down and looked outside, the man was gone. I shrugged and took a deep breath. I wondered if my instincts were off; first, with Brad, and now with this strange man. I sipped the coffee, relishing the heat as it moved down my esophagus. Stop looking for things that aren’t there, I cautioned myself. It happens to journalists sometimes, and it’s the kiss of death. Get too busy looking for things that aren’t there and you’re likely to miss the real things right in front of you.

Like strange men, who first appear at a fundraiser and then appear at a newspaper stand right in front of you. I remembered where I’d seen the man before… he’d been just a few seats down from me last night at the dinner. I stood up and walked out of the coffee shop, scanning the sidewalk and street up one side and down the other, looking for the man. The more I looked, the more certain I was. Not seeing him, I began to walk back to the hotel.

As I walked, I continued to scan the street. I felt eyes on me as I walked, and my anxiety began to push its way into my mouth, making the coffee taste extra bitter. I slowed my pace and looked around. When I felt the presence of someone behind me, I stopped short and turned; the stranger stopped just shy of running into me.

“Why are you following me?” I demanded. My hands curled around my cell phone in my pocket; whether I should use it to call the London equivalent of 911 or use it as a weapon I wasn’t sure… yet.

“Cassandra Young?” the man asked. He was young, my age or maybe a little older, definitely not past thirty. He was handsome, his jaw well defined just above an overcoat that protected him from the wind. His hair was thick, and the wind had pulled across his forehead in a way that made him look more charming than tousled.

“Who wants to know?” I asked. He wasn’t giving off a threatening vibe, plus I was standing on a public street in broad daylight. Still, I scanned possible ways for to escape quickly, which direction I could run and get away the fastest.

To my surprise, he held out a badge. “Patrick Shim,” he said. “NCA. I need to speak to you.”

“NCA?” I asked. “What’s that?”

“National Crime Agency,” he said. “It’s England’s equivalent to the FBI. Can we go somewhere more private to chat?”

“I think we’re fine right here,” I said. “The National Crime Agency sounds like a completely made up name. Can I look at that badge again?” It looked official enough. “I thought Scotland Yard was how you all rolled over here.”

“Yeah, we get that a lot,” Patrick said dryly. “I assure you, it’s a legitimate agency. You’re in danger, Cassandra, and I need to get some information from you.”

“In danger from what?” I asked.

“Do you have your passport?” he asked in response.

“No,” I said. “Is that what this is about? Did you find it?”

“Your passport was taken,” Patrick said. “With the intention of keeping you in London.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And why would someone want to do that?” I asked.

Brad

“And you don’t see any sort of a problem dating her?” Simon demanded. We were at lunch the day after the fundraiser, and Simon was giving me all manner of hell about Cassie.

“Obviously not,” I said coldly, “or I wouldn’t be seeing her.”

“And she does what for a living again?”

“She writes for a magazine.” I stabbed a piece of steak with my fork and chewed it, feeling tension in my jaw.

“She’s a journalist,” Simon seethed. “A fucking reporter. You’re fucking a fucking reporter!”

“Watch yourself, Simon,” I said, putting down my fork. We were in a busy restaurant at the busiest time of day and it was plenty loud, but there were certain words that carried, and the last thing I needed was more attention drawn to myself.

“Do you not see how bad this could be for you?” His tone had softened.

“Look, it’s not like she’s a bloodhound for the Times or something. She writes fluff pieces for some travel magazine. If you want to call that a reporter, that’s fine by me, but I’m not worried. Her only concern is informing the traveling community about how many pools are in each Legacy property.” I resumed eating, stabbing a bite of lettuce with my fork.

“For now that’s her concern,” Simon said. “What if she stumbles upon something in her research? Or, God forbid, what if she literally stumbles onto something bigger, like, oh, I don’t know, a storage facility? What if she starts poking around and lands herself in a room with inventory?”

I shook my head. “She doesn’t suspect anything,” I said. “This isn’t exactly my first time with this, you know. I know how to be careful. I haven’t left a single gun laying around the hotel.”

“This isn’t funny,” Simon said. His jaw was clenched and I watched him gripping his knife so tightly his knuckles were white. I grew serious.

“Don’t ever suggest that I think any of this situation is funny,” I snarled. “You know exactly how much I’ve lost already, and how much I have hanging in the balance. You’re a good friend and a trusted partner, Simon, but don’t think for a second that I won’t cut you loose if you start to disrespect me.”

We looked at each other, and I watched Simon struggling with what to say next. Finally, he broke.

“If you ever get the idea that she does think something is up, just let me know what I can do to help. I don’t want anything to happen to you, to her, or to the project.”

I nodded. “Good answer. I’ve already introduced her to Antoine as a measure of protection.” Antoine wasn’t a masseuse at all, though that’s how Cassie knew him. I smiled just thinking about him. He was my mentor, a second father, and, though I would never say as much to Simon, he was my most trusted confidant. A family friend since the day I was born, Antoine had watched me grow up and had been there for me when my own parents had been working, traveling, or simply just absent. Lorinda agreeing to name our son after him had been one of the highest points of my life… and it would be second only to the day I got to introduce the two of them to one another.

Simon nodded. “That’s good,” he said. “Antoine has a very calming, rational demeanor.”

“Unlike some people, right, Chicken Little?” I said, smiling just a bit.

“Hey, I’m just trying to look out for you,” Simon said, holding up his hands in defense.

“I know, I know,” I said. “And I appreciate it. But, rest assured that I would never let a casual sexual relationship interfere with getting my son back, or with our business. Not for even a second.”

I could tell Simon was about to speak, and I could hear his thoughts loud as can be. She’s a fucking reporter! But he thought the better of it and simply shoved a forkful of steak into his mouth instead. I didn’t tell him I’d taken her passport and hidden it. I didn’t tell him that, if I had my way, Cassie’s journalist skills would be put to good use.

Cassie

I took Patrick’s card reluctantly and shoved it in my pocket. I walked quickly down the street, this time not feeling the weight of someone’s eyes on my back, and headed into the hotel lobby. I went straight to my suite and deadbolted the door; I didn’t know where Brad was, but I didn’t need him keying into my room while I was doing my research. My head was reeling from Patrick’s line of questioning; I didn’t know why the FBI, or NCA, whatever, would be so interested in the Legacy Suites, but now I was more convinced than ever that there was something secretive in Brad’s life.

I thought back to how I’d answered Patrick’s questions—giving the briefest answers I could while, at the same time, asking a return question. He was onto my game and didn’t give me much to go on… but I at least had more to work with than I’d had earlier.

I started my search with looking up his partner, Simon Pyle. Like with Brad, there wasn’t anything obvious, nothing like a record, jail time, or any news article suggesting anything other than that Simon was, while not a billionaire, certainly wealthy enough to do his share of charity work, which he did. Lots of images of him and his life partner, Clive, at all sorts of charity fundraisers. I tried to get a feel for his areas of interest, but his charities were broad and varied. I moved on to Patrick Shim.

Patrick was a highly decorated investigator with the NCA, formally the SOCA, the Serious Organised Crime Agency. He was single, thirty-one years old, and, according to an article written about him after he’d won some sort of cop award, exceptional in his athleticism, his loyalty, and his intuition. I clicked on a thumbnail picture and, when it came up in full, I let out a low whistle. The article was about him rescuing a child from a potential drowning in a community pool. He was in a bathing suit, as European as they get, and I could see almost everything. His body was lean and tight, muscular, with the curve of the “V” moving from his hips to below the fabric of his bathing suit.

“Damn,” I said. Then I shook my head and clicked the X, closing out the picture. “Stop acting like a teenager,” I warned myself out loud. I refocused with a breath and turned my research back to the written facts about Investigator Patrick Shim.

There was a knock at my door. I jumped, quickly Xing out of Chrome and shutting the top of my laptop against the bottom.

“Coming!” I called. I walked to the door and unlocked it, then opened it to Brad.

“Why did you bolt the door?” he asked, looking at me with a combination of worry and suspicion.

“Um, just force of habit,” I said. “Whenever I’m alone. Safety, you know?”

He leaned in and kissed me. “That’s my girl,” he said. “Safety first.”

“How was your meeting with Simon?” I asked. I thought about Patrick’s card in my pocket, realized I would need to program the number into my phone and then get rid of the card before Brad found it. Or, I thought, I could just get rid of the card and forget the conversation I’d had with Patrick had ever taken place. It was all crap anyway. The questions he’d asked were fishing questions; he had no evidence of anything, just suspicions that Legacy Suites was somehow involved in “potentially illegal activity.”

“It was business as usual,” he said easily. “How was your morning?”

“Boring,” I said. “I went for coffee, then came back here and did some writing.” And got accosted by an FBI agent who implied that my passport was stolen, not lost, as an attempt by some blackmailing agency to keep me in the country and possibly kidnap me and ransom me to get you to pay up. “The article about Legacy Suites, London is really shaping up.”

“That’s great,” Brad said, pulling me in for a kiss. The warmth of his lips, the pressure of them against mine, pushed the entire morning out of my mind. I put my arms around his waist and pressed my head against his chest. His heartbeat was slow and regular… hardly the heartbeat of a criminal. I vowed to toss Patrick’s card the first chance I got. If he wanted to spend his time on a wild goose chase, that was his business, but I wasn’t going to help him.

“I have an idea,” I said.

“Oh?” Brad pulled back and looked at me.

“Let’s order room service, get naked, and lock the doors for the rest of the day and night.” I trailed my fingers down his chest toward his belt, which I tugged lightly.

He grinned and mussed my hair. “Someone feeling a little frisky, huh?”

I returned his grin with my best innocent, sex-kitten smile. “Rawr,” I said, letting my voice drop into a growl.

“Let me make a quick phone call. While I’m doing that, call downstairs and order two of whatever you want. Tell them to add a bottle of Dom Perignon and a bowl of strawberries.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said, winking. I went to the living room phone while he disappeared into the bedroom. I made the call to room service quickly, then I walked toward the bedroom. Brad had closed the door, but I could tell he was still on the phone. I could hear his voice muffled through the door, and he didn’t sound happy.

“Fix it!” he said. “The shipment arrived on time and intact. What more does he want?” There was a pause. My heart was in my throat; I knew I shouldn’t be so close to the door, but I couldn’t step away. “He can’t keep doing this,” he said, his voice softer but with the same anger. “We’re following his orders to the letter; he needs to hold up his end of the deal.” Another pause, then Brad’s voice became quieter, more muffled, as he walked into either the bathroom or the closet. I stepped away from the door and walked to the tv, turning it on with the remote and sitting on the couch.

Twenty minutes later, the food arrived. Brad hadn’t yet emerged from the bedroom. I debated whether or not to knock on the door, and decided against it. I ate some of the pizza while it was still hot, and took a few forkfuls of pasta. I flipped channels, then turned the tv off. As I did, Brad emerged.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized, his voice contrite. “I didn’t expect that call to take that long. Did you eat?”

“I started,” I said. “Who did you call? Is everything okay?” I asked the questions gently, trying to keep my tone neutral.

“Oh,” Brad sounded distracted as he grabbed two slices of pizza and dumped them onto a plate. “It was just Simon. Some unfinished business from this afternoon.” He popped the cork on the Dom and filled two champagne flutes, then handed one to me. “Nothing to worry about.” He smiled easily. “Cheers.”

He clinked my glass, then he grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the couch.

“Tonight I’m the hungry one,” I said, turning to him and advancing on him.

“I thought you just ate,” he grinned.

“Not the right thing to satisfy my appetite,” I said. “I’m more in the mood for sausage.” I undid his jeans and he tugged them down. His cock was hard and stood out from his body. He slid down until he was horizontal on the leather couch, and I dropped down onto him, my mouth taking his cock fully. I began to slid my lips up and down his shaft as he groaned, grabbing my hair with his fingers and guiding my head in a smooth, rhythmic motion.

“Oh, Cassie,” he moaned. “Your mouth feels like melted wax pouring all over me.” He moved his hips and I began to flick the head of his cock with my tongue while I stroked his shaft with one hand and cupped his balls with the other. I gave his balls a gentle squeeze and swirled my tongue around his head, feeling the skin of his cock tighten and stretch.

With each motion, I grew wetter, the sensation in my pussy spreading throughout my body. I wanted him inside me. I sat up and stripped off my clothes slowly; he watched my every move. Fully naked, I laid back on top of him and slid myself onto his awaiting cock. He filled me, and I began to ride him, moving forward and back, arching my spine and grinding down hard against him. He grunted, a sigh of intensity escaping his lips, and I pressed harder.

“God, Cassie, you’re gonna break it in two,” he moaned, his hands on my hips, loving every second of it.

“That’ll mean twice the pleasure,” I said.

“Twice the pleasure would kill me,” he panted. “Oh fuck!” I shifted my knees and pushed him deeper into me, clenching my muscles to massage his cock from top to bottom.

I dropped forward onto his chest and continued thrusting against him, though, from this angle, my clit was getting a good amount of attention. Instantly, I felt my orgasm rising.

“I’m gonna cum,” I whispered. “I’m gonna cum hard tonight, oh my God, so fucking hard.” Each word was punctuated with a breath and with a dramatic increase in my arousal until I came, feeling hot liquid rushing through me, his and my own, in our mutual climax.

Afterward, we laid on the couch sipping champagne.

“Want to go to the bedroom and do it again?” he asked, his fingertips lightly trailing down my back to my ass. He gave it a squeeze and a light slap.

“Um, yes, yes I do,” I said dreamily, my eyes closed.

“Let me jump in the shower,” he whispered into my ear. “Then we can see if you can break the world record for multiple orgasms in one night.”

“Challenge accepted.” I smiled and slid off of him, sitting on the floor next to the coffee table. He stood up, looking down at me, and extended his hand.

“Come on, sexy,” he said. I grabbed his hand and we moved into the bedroom. We showered, fucked some more, then showered again.

When I woke up a few hours later, the first strains of light pushing through the curtains, Brad was sound asleep. I put on the white, fluffy robe provided by the hotel and stepped out into the living room. The strawberries were in the bowl, untouched, and I began to eat them as I watched the sun rise.

I stood staring out the window for the better part of a half hour. I glanced back into the bedroom and made sure Brad was still sleeping; he was. I got my coat from the back of the chair, where I had tossed it the day before when I’d come home to do my research. I found Patrick Shim’s card in the pocket.

My original intention had been to toss it. But, something was keeping me from throwing it away, from pretending the conversation with Patrick had never taken place. I thought about Patrick, about standing across from him on the sidewalk as he asked me questions and provided me with more questions than answers.

I might not want to help him out… but maybe he could help me. Maybe, if I talked to him again, I could get him to tell me more about Brad and whatever he was involved with.

Maybe.

I grabbed my phone, dialed his number, then held the phone to my ear, trying to ignore the anxiety snaking its way through my stomach into my chest.

After the third ring, a sleep-blurred voice answered. Patrick. “Hello?” he said.

“Hi,” I said. “It’s Cassie Young. I need to meet with you.”

Cassie

As I rode the tube to the restaurant Patrick had said we would meet at, every cell in my body was asking me what the hell I thought I was doing. I thought about our brief conversation just a few hours earlier. I’d woken Patrick up, and I’d felt badly about that. I realized that it hadn’t occurred to me that Patrick actually slept… or ate… or did anything else except work. I was intrigued by him, a mystery to me, and I knew absolutely nothing about him. I didn’t know anything that would lead me to be intrigued, except that he worked for the NCA. I still didn’t know if he had any hobbies, but now at least I knew something more about him: he was still sleeping at five in the morning.

It had been my idea for us to get together again; I’d told him I needed to talk to him, but I hadn’t said why. Of course, he knew it was about Brad; that was the whole reason I’d discovered Patrick following me. He was investigating Brad, and I was an easy target for questioning. That was, until he’d found out I was a journalist and knew all of his interrogation techniques. During our brief phone call, he, surprisingly, hadn’t asked any questions. Perhaps it was his sleepiness, but he’d just told me that yes, he could meet me. He’d given me the name of a restaurant and the address, and he’d told me what time to meet him.