The Billionaire's Secret Page 6

  I just nodded. I couldn’t even speak.

  As my burning flesh cooled, his fingers tickled the crack of my ass. I squirmed from the sensation, earning myself another smack. And then another

  I squeezed my thighs together in hope of some relief. But I knew there was only one thing that would help.

  Chapter 11

  Varden

  Damn if my cock wasn’t throbbing and ready to rage. I had Saffi over the railing, ass in the air. Even in the dim light, her pale skin burned bright pink with the outline of my merciless hand.

  She responded beautifully to my touch, better than I had even hoped. She was a lean girl, but her behind was as pretty as an upside-down heart. A beauty. Supremely smooth and round.

  Spanking the ass of my attorney’s young daughter. How fucked does someone have to be to do that?

  And yet. I guess I had my answer.

  “I think you like that,” I murmured in her ear, undeterred by any call to reason.

  And all she could do was mumble in reply.

  My fingers ventured farther down her ass, between her legs where they met with hot, creamy wetness. She was fucking soaked.

  I wiggled one finger between her pussy lips and found her opening. I entered her just until I heard her gasp and whisper a small “Yeah.” I slipped another finger in, and she wiggled her hips to drive both deeper.

  With a third finger in her, I began to pump. Slowly at first and then faster when she bucked back against my hand.

  Fuck, yeah. That’s a hot little slut.

  “Are you gonna come on my hand, beautiful? C’mon, give me something to lick off my fingers.”

  Those were the magic words. She pushed so hard against my hand we both nearly fell. I still had a grip on her hair, so her movements were limited, but she bucked like a wild animal, coming, her sex pulsating, her moans catching the attention of the entire first floor.

  As her orgasm wound down, I slipped my fingers out. I turned her to face me and wrapped my arms around her so she wouldn’t fall.

  Unbelievable. My attorney’s daughter just came on my hand.

  After a moment, she picked her head up from my chest, pushing my arms away. “I have to get home.”

  She pulled her panties and jeans up, and when she was put back together, she started toward the door.

  I reached for her arm. “What are you, Cinderella or something?”

  “Yeah. Something like that.”

  “Can I get your number?”

  She looked at me for a second, then reached in her purse and scribbled on a scrap of paper. She thrust it at me and whirled around, almost falling down the last couple stairs.

  As she approached the door, Miss M tried to engage her. But she headed her off and disappeared before being trapped by conversation. M’s usual languorous expression was replaced by something I’d never seen. Was that worry? Or frustration?

  “Do you know that woman? Tonight was her first night here,” M said when she’d caught up to me.

  No shit.

  I shook his head. “Nope, sorry. Never seen her before in my life.”

  Next morning, I returned to my office after wrapping up a seven a.m. meeting with our investment analysts. The guys—and one gal—had been working hard, and things were looking good for the firm’s upcoming quarter.

  I closed my door and crossed to the floor-to-ceiling windows to check out the stunning view of the San Francisco Bay, speckled with sailboats that looked like tiny toys, bouncing around in the choppy water.

  I pulled out the piece of paper Saffi had thrust at me the night before. She’d run out of the club like a bat out of hell, which was probably for the best. I didn’t trust myself around her. She was young, she was beautiful, and she was off-limits. No way could I fuck around with my lawyer’s daughter.

  But the piece of paper dangling from my fingers tortured me.

  “Yo, boss.” My office door flew open, and my business partner, Monty, bounded in. He plopped down on the chair opposite my desk and put his foot up.

  “Do you have to put your goddamn shoe on my desk?” Christ, he irritated me sometimes.

  Monty rolled his eyes and moved his foot. “Sorry, princess, for spoiling your kingdom.”

  I shoved Saffi’s scrap of paper back in my pocket and sat down opposite my friend. We’d been at graduate school together, worked in investment banking, and later opened our own hedge fund. We were like brothers.

  “What’s up, Mont? How’s that new analyst doing?”

  His eyebrows rose. “You mean that hot as shit babe that just outshone every guy in the room? Dude, my dick was so hard for her during that meeting. I didn’t know how I’d get up and walk out when it ended. Jesus, she’s something.”

  I nodded, looking at Monty through narrowed eyes. “Remember, we’ve talked about this. No fucking the chicks in the office. Nothing could bring us down as fast as that kind of bullshit drama.”

  “I hear ya. Not to worry. I’m keeping it tucked in. But that’s not to say some of the younger guys in the office won’t go for it. Hell, I would if I wasn’t the boss.”

  “Let the younger guys do what they want. If they get caught up a creek without a paddle, that’s not our problem.”

  Monty glanced at his watch. “So, you joining us tonight to play some ball? I got a court reserved at the club.”

  I sat back and crossed my legs, one foot placed on the opposite knee. The paper crinkled in my pocket, like it was speaking to me. “I don’t know—”

  “Oh, come on, man. You’re gonna puss out again?”

  “Would you just relax? I have some things to do.” The folded corner of the Saffi’s number poked me through my pants.

  “What the hell do you have to do that’s so important?” Monty asked with a smirk.

  Think fast.

  “My brother’s had some trouble again.” Shit. Using Beau as an excuse? Now that was bad.

  Monty leaned forward, concern crossing his face. “Oh, Jesus. I didn’t know. Sorry.”

  My office door blew open again. Was there any peace in this goddamn place?

  It was my admin. She could actually barge in anytime she wanted. “Monty, your nine a.m. has arrived. They’re in the conference room.”

  “Be right there.” He stood. “All right, man. Well, maybe you can play next week.”

  “For sure, Mont. For sure.” I nodded like I’d really go. We did this all the time.

  As soon as the door closed and I was alone, I pulled out Saffi’s number. I ran my fingers over the ink, as if that would send me some kind of message.

  Oh, fuck it.

  I entered the number into my contact list, and started typing out a text message.

  Chapter 12

  Saffi

  I’d stumbled onto something big.

  No, not big. Monumental.

  My story would shake the city. I’d no longer have to accept the paper’s shit assignments—well, not all of them, anyway. They’d entrust me with good, high profile work, and with the chance to prove myself over and over. People would ask my opinion. They’d listen to what I had to say.

  But as soon as I was handed the usual list of Chinese food to pick up for the office, I realized my dream was still a ways off.

  Ugh.

  I went to the Chinese place so often they knew me by name. How sucky was that? Saffi Bartlett belonged on the byline of a brilliant piece of journalism, not a hand-written receipt from a takeout restaurant.

  Trudging back to the office with multiple plastic bags, I struggled to hold my head up. It wasn’t easy to do when one smelled of fried wontons and sweet and sour pork.

  “Saff. Yo, thanks for flying. I’m starved.” Tom snatched a bag from my hand and emptied its contents onto the break room lunch table. Chopsticks and fortune cookies clattered to the floor.

  Jerk.

  “Yeah. You’re welcome.” I say next to him. I was hungry, too.

  “Geez, Saff,” he said, diving into his noodles. “Why so glu
m?” He tried to hook some of his lo mein with his chopsticks, but the slippery noodles slithered right out of them and landed on the grimy table.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I guess it’s this place.”

  This was part of my ploy, to tell no one about the story until the last minute, with the exception of Ed. That would guarantee maximum impact at the paper. They’d all be blown away by my investigative skill and writing talent.

  I pictured for a moment how great it would be for someone else to get the damn Chinese food my coworkers seemed unable to live without.

  Seriously. How much lo mein can a person eat?

  “Oh, Saff.”

  Why did that douchebag have to keep calling me that? At one time, I’d thought it cute. Now it was annoying as hell.

  “You know,” he said, leaning toward me as if in confidence. “Some people are meant to do the serious work. And some people are meant to support us.”

  Oh, hell no.

  Did he really just say that?

  “Excuse me?” I leaned back toward him, just inches from his nose.

  His head snapped back. “Oh, Saff,” he said with a weak laugh. “I was just kidding. You know me.”

  “Yeah,” I said with a fury that surprised us both. “You’d better be fucking kidding.” I grabbed a container of moo shu pork and returned to my desk before I lost control and dumped the slimy goo over his head.

  Happy hour lasted till six p.m., and with just a few minutes left I ordered another beer. I was waiting on my perpetually late best friend, Nelle. She normally arrived when I was on my first drink. But I since I was into beer number two and wondering where the hell she was, I pulled out my phone to track her down.

  And to my surprise, there was a text from my new Club Silk friend.

  G.

  I saved it for later.

  I had to get back to Club Silk, and soon. There was no way around it, not that I minded; I’d only just started gathering information, although I sure as hell hadn’t planned on hooking up with anyone, especially not my first night there. On the other hand, if I just kept showing up without ever playing with anyone, well, that wasn’t going to help me fit in at all.

  I had to figure out what to do about G, and sooner rather than later. He’d be there when I went back. Plus, he was sexy as hell even if he did wear that damn mask.

  A hand fell on my shoulder, startling the crap out of me.

  “Geez,” Nelle said, out of breath and flustered. “Why’re you so jumpy? Relax.”

  I waved for the bartender. “Hey there. You made it just in time.” I ordered Nelle a beer with just seconds left in happy hour.

  “I haven’t seen you in ages,” Nelle said, getting situated on her barstool. “How’s the job at the paper?”

  “I’m liking it better. I mean, I think I’m going to be getting more challenging work.”

  Nelle’s face brightened. “No kidding! Tell me.”

  I opened my mouth to tell Nelle everything, but I stopped. No doubt she could deal with it but…way too soon. I didn’t want to answer a bunch of questions. I probably wouldn’t have answers for them, anyway.

  So I fibbed. “Well, there’s nothing particular to tell yet. It’s just a feeling. I think my editor is listening to me more.”

  Who wouldn’t listen to a story about a freaking sex club?

  Earlier that day, Ed had called me into his office.

  He’d leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped on his desk. “Saffi, what’s up with the Club Silk story?”

  “Well, I visited for the first time the other night.”

  Of course I glossed over the sexy details, explaining I’d not yet gathered much of substance.

  “It’s going to be a good story,” I assured him. “Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, is this something you should be doing?” He looked around the room as if there were others present, and then said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Should you”—he gestured at her—“be going to a sex club?”

  “Not sure what you’re getting at, Ed.”

  “Maybe next time you go, you should take me with you.”

  What the fucking fuck.

  I had forced a small smile in the hope of wiping the tension off my face. “I’ve got it under control.”

  Did he really think she wanted to go to a sex club with him? Jesus.

  “Well, all right,” he said. “But before all is said and done, someone else will have to go for fact-checking purposes.”

  “I understand.”

  Then he had pushed back from his desk and stood like he always did when he was ready to end a meeting. “Okay then. Keep me posted. Good work.”

  Nelle was shaking her arm. “Hey. Saffi. You with me? You spaced out again.”

  I realized I’d shredded my cocktail napkin. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I have to stop letting work get me down.”

  Quick save.

  “Yeah, you do. Now what about your office crush? What was his name again? Tim?”

  “Tom. It was Tom. But he turned out to be a douche.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. Onward.” Nelle raised her beer glass. “Anyway, your mom would be proud of your commitment.”

  A thud landed in my stomach. Would she be proud of her daughter investigating a sex club?

  “Yeah, I hope so.” I stared at the sweat ring my beer had left on the bar.

  “Of course she would be. She’d be proud of the life you and your dad have built. Speaking of which...how is your handsome father?” Her eyes widened.

  “My dad is great. You know him. He doesn’t mind my crashing at the house. In fact, I think he likes it. And it’s nice to have some time with him after being away at school. Not that I could afford to move out, anyway...”

  “Hey, don’t despair,” Nelle said, placing a hand on my arm. “You’ll be making more money in no time. We’ll get a place together.”

  “Easy for you to say, Miss Finance Major. You’ve got a great job in banking. But the journalism route does not pay quite as well.”

  There could be some pretty sweet perks, though. The kind only an exclusive club offered. And I was determined to enjoy them.

  Chapter 13

  Varden

  I was still busting my ass at the office at seven thirty p.m. when a text finally arrived from Saffi.

  Jesus, what was I doing, playing with fire like this?

  It was early yet for Club Silk, but I steered my Audi in its direction, anyway. I could get there early, have a drink or two with Miss M, and leave my world behind. No one would need anything from me—not work, not my brother—no one.

  It wasn’t as though I didn’t remember the tough years with Beau’s and my alcoholic asshole of a father. On the contrary, those fucked-up memories, most days, were only inches away from my consciousness. But I’d manage to achieve enough, both personally and professionally, to have gotten some perspective on that time. Now if only I could have that same influence on Beau, who’d taken the brunt of the family shitshow. As the first in the family to make it to college, I was out of the house when things had gotten their worst. Beau had had to face it all on his own. For that, I’d never forgive myself. He’d been paying for it ever since.

  The gift that kept on giving.

  I parked a half block from the club. Close, but also far enough to assess the neighborhood, which could be dicey. And most importantly, to watch the comings and goings.

  While I cooled my heels, I scrolled through my text messages. Saffi’s had been noncommittal as hell. Leave it to a newspaper reporter to not give anything away.

  Who knew whether she’d be there later? It would be nice, sure. She was a total hottie with that long, dark hair and pretty, round ass. And the way she’d responded to me. I got hard just thinking about it. But in her absence, I’d probably just hit on someone else unless someone got to me first. I could be an asshole that way.

  Why the fuck was I even thinking about her? Maybe I saw something of myself in her, how she was determined
to make her own way?

  Whatever.

  I rang the club’s bell as soon as my mask was on.

  Miss M stood before me in another of her slinky gowns—this time blue—her signature long hair in waves and bright red lips. Being greeted at the door was a nice perk, even if she was a little over the top with drama.

  “G! So good to see you,” she purred, kissing the lips of my mask. She hooked her arm in mine, and we headed for the bar.

  “What can I get you, my friend?” she asked, head tilted.

  “Thanks. I’ll have my usual. A bourbon. On the rocks.”

  She waved over the bartender, who was still setting up for the evening. “Two bourbons, please.”

  She leaned back against the bar, propping her elbows on the surface behind her. “I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.”

  Hmmm. “What’s that, M?”

  “That woman you were with the other night. I think her name was B? I want to find out more about her.”

  Now that was a funny coincidence. Or was it?

  “Will you help me?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I mean, you know me, M. I keep my privacy protected.” I gestured to my mask. “And I don’t intend to impose on anyone else’s. That’s not how I roll.”

  Good save. What did she want with Saffi, anyway?

  Annoyance crossed her face. She wasn’t used to being told no. But she quickly reverted back to her sweet smile. “Of course, G. I completely respect that.” She moved closer, lowering her voice even though no one was in earshot. “But I want you to know, I don’t have a good feeling about her. You do what you want, but I’m asking you to be careful.”

  Thank goodness she couldn’t see the expression on my face. The woman was fucking paranoid. Or was it good instinct, honed by years of protecting the club? Saffi was a reporter, after all.

  But I’m sure that had nothing to do with her attending. She was hardly Woodward and Bernstein. She wrote about Little League, for god’s sake.

  “Gotcha, babe.” I clinked her glass and headed for the stairs before she killed my buzz.