Part 2: Seduced by the Billionaire
Chapter 1 – Alyssa
I’m sitting in one of the most exclusive restaurants in Portland. The kind that requires an annual membership that totals into the hundreds – no, thousands – of dollars, and that’s only to guarantee you a spot on most of the nights you want to dine. You still have to pay for the food and drink at the end of your stay, and looking at this menu has me shaking in my brand-new Prada heels.
I don’t know how I’ve ended up in this restaurant, eating this food, wearing these clothes, and gazing upon one of the hottest men I’ve ever met.
A man I happened to lose my virginity to only a few days ago.
That’s how this all started, isn’t it? Julian Marcus, billionaire and corporate president alongside his business partner Preston Bradley, called me up early Friday evening and asked me to bring by a folder. While I thought it was strange – and totally unnecessary, like come on – at the time, I soon realized he didn’t care about the folder at all. He wanted under my skirt, fucking me against his desk and then demanding I go back with him to his penthouse for round two.
I may have panicked and ran out on him before he realized I skipped out on the limo ride, but by this Monday afternoon I was agreeing to be his new personal assistant… and girlfriend.
One of the first things Julian did was send me to get some nice clothes. I showed up at the designated department store where he had a credit line and walked out with three new outfits, two new pairs of shoes, and a palette of new makeup. I never thought in a million years I would wear a designer dress like this on someone else’s dime! Because my Prada shoes aren’t cute enough, I’m wearing a matching Chanel dress that hugs my body and covers my skin at the same time. I’m not stupid. I know what this sapphire blue does for my new…
Dear God, is he really my boyfriend?
No way. This is a lark. This will be over the moment he’s bored with me.
Although… can a guy who looks at me like this really get bored with me?
I’m like a blushing virgin all over again every time I meet his eyes across the table. One hour ago we were at a business function thrown by one of Julian’s biggest business associates. We weren’t staying long. Not when we were both hungry and the only thing available to eat was finger food. As soon as it was socially acceptable, Julian put his arm around me and swept me out of that small gathering of men in suits and the beautiful women they slept with. Who knew that even a small city like Portland had that kind of rich life lurking beneath its rainy streets?
“You are so gorgeous,” Julian says, leaning across our intimate table in its own private room. The only people we’ve seen since sitting down are the sommelier and waiter. Julian ordered for me after asking if I had any allergies. Granted, the man ordered me a salad, but it’s one of the biggest, most delicious, heartiest salads I’ve had in my life. I won’t be going hungry.
Not that I have much appetite now. I’m still reeling from the magic of the day, our first sexual encounter swimming in the deep recesses of my memory. The way he kissed me, dipping his tongue into my throat and caressing every inch of my mouth. The way he pinched my skin, sensually, easing my legs open and making me wet. The way he fucked me! Can’t forget that!
“You’re a handsome man yourself.” I feel brave saying that. Who am I to tell Julian Marcus that he’s handsome? Of course he knows that. He could be a model for any Italian designer desperate enough to have him. Look at him! The healthy glow of his skin goes perfectly with his milk-white dress shirt and blue and gray striped tie. His jacket hangs over the back of his chair, his legs spread wide in that way casual men espouse after work. A huge Philippe Patek watch glistens on his wrist. I remember how cool it felt against my thighs Friday night when he pulled my legs open and went down on me. Down! On me! Shit. Now I’m blushing. I had told myself I would keep this relationship professional, because I don’t delude myself into thinking it’s forever, or that even he takes it seriously.
So it’s safe to say I have no idea what’s going on when he opens a Moleskin notebook and pulls a hefty pen from his pocket. My father has a pen like that. He keeps it locked up in his office because it’s so nice – and expensive. Says it’s only for signing important documents or writing personal letters that need an extra touch. Doesn’t it make sense that someone like Julian Marcus would thus treat his own pen so flippantly? He could lose that thousand-dollar pen at any moment, and he doesn’t care! He probably has ten more around his office and in his penthouse!
This is too much. No wonder I need wine and a fan blowing against my flustered skin.
“As much as I would like to gaze into your delightful eyes, Alyssa, I’m afraid there are some things we must go over if we are to have a relationship like this, let alone a public one.”
I fold my hands on the table and give him my meeting-face. Too bad my coworkers often say it makes me look constipated.
A smile briefly flashes on his visage. Ah, yes, I said sir, which he likes. A lot. Because Julian Marcus is the kind of man who takes charge in all areas of his life.
Including his sex life. With me.
“We need to talk about the terms of this relationship.”
I nod. Yes, it’s a good idea, isn’t it? This isn’t a conventional relationship. We literally hooked up Friday night, and he decided I’m his new girlfriend. I’m playing along because… well, do you see this guy? He’s like sex walked into a tailor’s and said, “Put me in a suit. I’ve got women to fuck and I need to look good doing it. Make me smell good, too!” The fact I might get spoiled in the process has crossed my mind. I mean, I get to keep this outfit. Even if we broke up tomorrow, I could still shove this in the back of my closet until I need it for a wedding, job interview, whatever.
Julian slides his Moleskine across the table, careful to avoid our empty wineglasses and my plate. “I’ve jotted down some rules as they’ve occurred to me over the past few hours. Let me know if you have any questions.”
I keep my reaction neutral as I hold the notebook up in my hands and study Julian’s handwriting in the candlelight.
Exclusivity is key. No other men. I expect to be the only one involved. Finding out about another boyfriend would be grounds for dismissal.
What a businessy way of putting that. “Don’t worry, Mr. Marcus,” I say through my full, red lips. “I can’t say I’m seeing anyone else right now, nor do I want to.” Before his smugness can choke me, however, I continue, “I hope that this is a two-way street, though. I wouldn’t feel fantastic knowing you’re still ordering up other interns to do the deed with them on your desk.”
I worry about offending him, but I can’t let it go unsaid. If Julian wants to be exclusive with me, that’s fine. Like I said, I’m not seeing anyone else anyway. But I’ll be damned if he gets to still fuck other women while I’m expected to be Miss Pretty & Chaste except for his dick.
Even if it’s a great dick. I’m just saying.
“That is ideal, yes.” Is that all I’m getting from him? “I think you’ll be more than satisfactory for me, Alyssa.” His eyes linger on my breasts, perfectly outlined in sapphire blue in this dress. I may not show off any cleavage right now, but he knows what it looks like, fabric be damned. “I would worry more about you.”
“Me?” He’s kidding, right?
“Of course. You’re a beautiful young woman who is only beginning her sexual journey through life. Men can sense that.” He shrugs, as if I should be happy with that answer.
“All right, then.” What the hell do I make of that?”
“Keep reading, please.”
I glance down at the Moleskine. “2. There will be no fraternizing or flirting with members of the opposite sex.” Oh, was this about what happened earlier today?
There I was, standing in the lobby of my boss’s building, when a young man in a nice suit approached me and asked for directions to a specific office. Since I knew exactly where it was, I was more than happy to help him get to his job interview or whatever. Except Julian chose that moment to approach and turn into Mr. Jealousy because how dare I talk to another man!
I had almost forgotten about it, thanks to the other nice things that have happened today. But now that he’s dragging it up, all I can think is that I’m involved with one possessive man.
“This is one of those things that requires trust, Julian.” I clear my throat. I may only be twenty-one, and my boss is in his early thirties, but I’ll be damned if he makes me feel small right now. I know about trust. Granted, not in a relationship like this, but does it really take rocket science? “You have my word that I will not ‘fraternize’ or outwardly flirt with any other men – or women for that matter – while you and I keep this arrangement going. That’s common decency. Now, that’s not going to stop me from talking to men, you know? I don’t care if you’re convinced that they’re flirting with me. If I’m not flirting back with them, you have no grounds to get angry with me.”
His face is set in half-scorn, half-amusement. Does he think I’m cute? Or is he obsessing over sex? It’s both, isn’t it?
“Fine. I’ll trust you.” He squeezes his pen in his hand. “There’s more.”
“3. You are to accompany me to both formal and informal functions as your schedule permits.” Seems fair. Except for one thing.
“You do know I’m still in school, right?” There’s a reason I only work at his office during the afternoons… because I’ve got classes in the morning.
“I vaguely remember something about that. Only a couple here and there, correct? Forward Vern your usual schedule and he’ll work it into mine.”
“A couple? Here and there? Julian, I’m going to school full time.” I spent my time this weekend thinking about him and doing my homework. I have a paper due soon! “I have no intentions of taking a sabbatical because I’m dating someone.”
“No,” he grumbles through gritted teeth. “Of course not. Like I said, forward your class schedule to Vern and he’ll make sure it works out with mine.”
Not sure how I feel about his executive assistant scheduling our banging, but okay.
“When does your term end?”
“Ju… you’re serious?”
“Fine, but once your term is over, I get to have you whenever I want. This summer, you belong to me, do you understand?”
I swallow, hard. Whenever he speaks with such authority, I admit I get… wet. Damnit. That’s not healthy, is it? I’m not supposed to get turned on when a guy shows me his possessive streak. Aren’t we supposed to discourage that? Isn’t it unhealthy? Why am I surprised, though? A man like Julian, born into privilege and used to getting his way, is going to think I’m his damn possession he gets to do whatever he wants with. I should probably be blessed that he’s willing to work around my school schedule for the next two to three months.
“For one thing,” he continues with the same tone of voice, “my brother is getting married in a few weeks. I’m his best man, and I wouldn’t mind having a date. I don’t care if you have a final that day, Alyssa, you’re coming with me to my brother’s wedding.”
“I’m sure it will be lovely. Where’s it going to be?”
“Some vineyard near Salem. God knows if I remember what it’s called.”
“Then it’s nearby! That’s good, right?”
“Good for you and your school schedule, I suppose.”
Please. Like this guy didn’t go to a nice university that expected him to show up at least once a week. (I’m probably being generous there.)
There’s more written in the Moleskine, but I’m not in the mood to read it right now. I close the notebook and hand it back to him. “I think three things at a time is more than sufficient, Mr. Marcus.”
He studies my face before snatching the notebook out of my hand. “Very well. When initializing new negotiations, it’s good to let things digest for a couple of days, anyway.”
I’ll pretend he’s not talking about me like I’m a new merger and acquisition. “Exclusivity and pledging to not flirt with other people. Sounds all right to me.”
“We’ll discuss the other things later.” Julian shrugs back into his jacket and checks his phone. “It’s getting late. We should head back to my place now.” He presses a button on his phone and stands up, offering his other hand to me.
“Your place, is it?”
“I swear to God, you bucked me Friday night, you’re not getting away from me tonight.”
I swallow again. What am I swallowing? Certainly not wine. Doesn’t taste like bile either, thank goodness. Perhaps it’s some of the last of my innocence slipping down my throat.
As I take his hand and stand up, my tight skirt keeping my thighs pressed together, I think that’s exactly what Julian wants to do to it. He’s going to fuck the last of my innocence away. That gleam in his famished eyes says it all – and it sends a thousand currents through my body, heart, and soul.
I’m reaching the point where I can’t tell the difference between the three, and that’s dangerous. Yet not as dangerous as wanting to walk away from Julian Marcus and his promises of pleasure and Earth-shattering experience.