The Billionaire Next Door
Excerpt
COPYRIGHT © 2016 LAUREN HAWKEYE
REIGN
Sheets of water sluiced down the glass as I stared outside the car window. The tapping of the water droplets on the roof overhead echoed at the base of my skull, each a pinch to the headache that was already brewing.
Trips home tended to do that to me.
The idea of my life containing any kind of stress was laughable to most. If I wasn’t a member of the royal family myself, I might have agreed with those who found the notion entertaining. Maybe to be royal in a family other than my own was easier.
Being spare to the heir in Visalia? Not so much.
Reaching up, I scrubbed my hands over my face, trying to force myself to wake up. Exhaustion washed over me as I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window.
I’d worked my ass off for the entirety of my flight—worked on solving my family’s latest emergency—and right now all I could think about was the icy bite of a glass of vodka and the warm welcome of a sweet submissive. Preferably one who knew what to expect from an encounter at Restraint—that is, a good time and nothing more.
Instead, the text that had cemented my headache had confirmed plans that I couldn’t back out of. As one of the owners of Restraint, it was often my responsibility to help break in new members. And I clearly hadn’t been looking at my planner when I’d promised Ilya to work with a member he’d matched me with tonight.
I really wasn’t in the mood for lessons about limits and safe words. No, what I wanted—what I needed—was a woman who knew the ropes and wanted the same thing I did tonight.
The sweet oblivion of release with a submissive who wouldn’t dare challenge me. The kind of woman I always chose, if only for a night.
There were plenty of women at Restraint who would have fit that description. A growl of frustration escaped my lips when, as always, the mental image of the one who was completely different swam through my mind instead.
If I was completely honest with myself, I knew why I gravitated toward more pliable submissives. It was because the bratty ones, the ones who challenged me at every step of the way, reminded me of the one who had started it all.
Everly.
Bright tattoos, shiny golden hair. A lot of opinions and a lot of brains. A body and a soul that called to every fiber of my being.
She hated me. Rightfully so, too. And since there was no point in living in the painful past, I wrenched myself free from the eight year old memory of the one who’d gotten away.
The sleek black hired car stopped moving. My driver moved to exit his seat and open my door for me, but after the week of formalities back in Visalia, the thought of being waited upon made me cringe. I flung the door open myself and didn’t look back as I strode past the long line that waited for admission, though I still felt my muscles tense, waiting for people to recognize me.
“Is that Prince Reign?”
“Oh my God. Do you think it’s true? That he’s into… that kind of stuff?”
“Quick, my camera. I need a selfie!”
Usually I would just roll my eyes at the inevitable frenzy that my appearance caused in public, maybe even stop and pose for some photos. The commotion had nothing to do with me, after all, and everything to do with my family. But there was something strange in the air tonight, an electric current that had me on edge.
I wanted the comfort of the darkness, not the harshness of light.
Just stepping inside the club was soothing. Here, here was something that I hadn’t just been given—I’d helped make this. Helped to build it. No matter what the family threw my way, they could never take this away.
The club was busy tonight—and when the main floor was packed, the upper ones usually were as well. My presence here would only drive more people to the line outside. Good for business. And good for the soul.
For a moment I considered bucking my commitment, cancelling my appointment and instead getting that icy glass of vodka that I was craving and losing myself in the rhythm of Restraint’s pulse.
I pushed away the thought as soon as it occurred to me. Not only did that undermine a new submissive’s trust right from the start, but the action just wasn’t in me. From the cradle I’d had responsibility shoved down my throat. So much so that when it come time to choose between family and love, I’d let go of the one I should have kept.
Why was Everly weighing so heavily on my mind tonight?
Stopping behind the bar to pour myself that drink, I checked the time before heading for the stairs, then deliberately slowed my steps. Showing up late would set the tone that I wanted for the scene, and more than that, it would piss Ilya off. Petty, yes, but the thought boosted my spirits immeasurably.
As if he could read my thoughts, my phone buzzed with a text from him.
Stop dragging your ass. Your sub is waiting in room seven.
Narrowing my eyes, I considered replying, then ultimately figured that ignoring him would have a better effect. I continued to take my time, pausing to watch a scene between Nolan, one of the other owners, and the woman that he had chosen for his evening’s play.
My phone buzzed again, and I knew that I’d pushed it long enough. I ignored the message, drained my scotch, and forced my thoughts away from the day I’d had, away from Ilya, away from the fact that I didn’t want to be here. The woman inside room seven had trusted Ilya to find her a good match for her first scene, and that meant that, by extension, she had placed her trust in me.
She deserved my full attention.
Gripping the doorknob, I softly opened the door. My gaze flickered around the room first, taking in the scene that Ilya had set—soft shadows cast in the glow of candles, scenting the room heavily with vanilla, an intricate display of silk scarves and feathers and blindfolds laid out on an antique trunk that I myself had purchased for the club. Lilting music danced softly in the air. Altogether a far more romantic scene than I would have set, and my need for control grumbled for a moment, protesting that I’d walked into someone else’s scene.
But then I saw her, and a bright, unexpected flash of pleasure snapped through me, pulling tight in my veins. She knelt on the bed, facing away from me, knees braced on the silken sheets. Her hair, a long cascade of gold that fell halfway down her back, was streaked through with pink. Her body mimicked the shape of an hourglass, making my hands instantly itch to touch.
Best of all? The back of her bright blue dress dipped low enough to show the delicate curve of her spine, which was lavishly adorned with ink.
Not the kind of woman I would have chosen for myself at all… and yet the knife edge of pleasure told me that, with the past weighing so heavily on my mind tonight, this—she—was exactly what I needed.
My irritation at Ilya dissipated as I stepped into the room, letting the door shut behind me loudly. Deliberately. I noted the shiver that passed over the woman’s skin as the sound echoed throughout the room, and I savored the reaction.
No, this woman definitely wasn’t what I’d wanted. But the anticipation swirling through the room told me that maybe she was going to be just what I’d need.