Boxed Set: Dominated by a Billionaire - Part 10-12: Irresistible Billionaire (3 page)

"Can I come in?"

"I’m reading."

"I can see that. You don’t want to talk?"

"No."

"Still mad?"

"Yes."

"You lose – you talked!" He smiles sweetly.

"I don’t feel like playing," I mumble, trying to hold back a smile.

"That’s because you know I always win," he whispers, joining me in bed, his cheeky face close to mine.

"You're keeping me from reading!"

"You're keeping me from kissing you, smelling you, touching you…What’s worse?"

"You deserve it."

"Right, and I apologized," he sighs, bringing his warm mouth closer to my bare shoulder.

"Not enough," I reply, delighting in the kiss.

"Besides, you should be happy – fate has turned against me." He stares at me with his big, misty gray eyes.

"So now I’m the one who's supposed to console you?" I whisper, kissing him on the neck.

We didn't need words to continue that conversation. Our bodies sought each other out, our hands, our lips, and they ended up finding each other. The whole weekend was nothing but a sensual, soothing reunion: a long bath together, romantic dinner in a chic restaurant, a hot pursuit through our maze-like apartment, a cuddly nap on the couch and a picnic on the rooftop terrace watching the sun go down.

On Monday morning, it’s hell trying to tear myself away from our cocoon to go to the office. But the gentle hand that touches the small of my back in the King building lobby is the hand of the man I love… and I’m not mad at him anymore. Reason enough for the day to go smoothly. But I know his mind is still preoccupied. Keith’s disclosures about his past are going to tarnish his reputation – which my lover couldn’t give a damn about – but it could also hurt King Productions – the empire he created from scratch and that he’s not about to let anyone destroy.

The week is a busy one and the days fly by. Every morning, Vadim kisses me goodbye as we get out of the elevator and I only see him again late at night, as exhausted as me, and twice as worried. Between being harassed by journalists looking for a reaction from the King, trying to figure out a way to strike back with Adrian and appointments to reassure the investors, my CEO has handed over responsibility for all the pre-production for
Twirling
. Alistair and I have increased our workload to relieve him as much as possible. Sophie, Clarence, Akiko, Bertrand, Sofia and the other department heads are running their teams expertly and everything is moving forward smoothly. I have rarely seen such enthusiasm, such energy at all staff levels. As if, in the face of adversity, the only solution was to buckle down and work twice as hard to support the boss, everybody making whatever small contribution they can.

When Friday night rolls around, no one even thinks of leaving. Stuck on the phone, eyes on the computer screen or hands grafted to the keyboard, all of the King Prod employees seem to have lost track of time. Mr. King shows up in the long hallway upstairs and opens all the office doors noisily, asking us all to join him in the open space. With his most straightforward smile and tired, gleaming eyes, he thanks us all warmly, grateful for how much everyone has struggled on his behalf. Then he orders everyone to go home for the weekend, on the spot! He has never been so sexy in his pale suit. I’m overcome with admiration and pride.

Desire, too…

Quick, get out of here and take this man home!

9 pm: ate a quick take-out dinner.

10 pm: made torrid love to release the pressure – as if we needed an excuse.

11 pm: got a long restful night’s sleep.

9 am: woke up to even hotter lovemaking than the night before.

10 am: ate a gargantuan brunch on the coffee table in the living room, bathed in the morning sun.

1 pm: watched a DVD (the latest Scorsese movie,
The Wolf of Wall Street
), just the two of us snuggled up on the comfiest couch imaginable.

4 pm: debated on and on about Leonardo DiCaprio, who has never won an Oscar.

5 pm: Vadim King is always right!

6 pm: Alma Lancaster is always wrong!

7 pm: settled our differences horizontally on the living room rug. He’s wrong, I’m right!

8 pm: Clear the decks! Our guests are waiting at the front door and we have neither dinner on the table nor clothes on our backs.

After a quick shower, Vadim calls a caterer and finally greets Niels and Basile, who are bitching about having had to wait, Lily jokes about what could have delayed us, and her new boyfriend, Alec, apologizes ten times for catching us at a bad time.

How much more smarmy can you get?

The Lebanese feast that arrives calms everyone's appetite and the stress levels drop: each of us dips into the range of small dishes set out for everyone to share: humus, mezze, falafels, beignets, meatballs, eggplant caviar and bean salad; both vegetarians thank us for having thought of them.

Alec: there' s such thing as being too polite!

While my brother and his partner enjoy having everyone guess what’s hidden in the little stuffed turnovers, my sister coos with her boyfriend as she devours him with her eyes, feeding him like a mother bird – which he doesn't really seem to be enjoying. I can’t figure out what I don’t like about this Deroy guy and I hate myself for thinking that such a charming, nice and smiley guy can’t be sincere with Lily. She deserves to date a normal guy who loves her for who she is, but “normal” is quite simply not her type. And you only have to watch them for a couple of minutes to see that he doesn’t seem that interested in her.

Vadim grabs me by the hand with the excuse of an emergency in the kitchen so he can be alone with me. The others don’t miss the opportunity to joke about this “emergency” that we seem to have a bit too often. Some one even tells us that maybe we should get some help since we can't seem to get enough sex. But this time that's not it.

"OK, I get the distinct impression you don’t like Alec," my lover scolds me nicely, as he closes the door behind us. "But if you stopped staring at him, he might feel a little less uncomfortable."

"But did you see him? He doesn’t even look at her when she’s talking to him!"

"In his defense, you have to admit she talks… a lot." He smiles, smacking a kiss on my forehead.

"I’m sure he's not even vegetarian," I add, tapping him on the arm.

"And that’s a flaw, is it?!"

"Well, he’s weird, I’m telling you! He’s been snooping around the apartment as if he were going to rob it."

"Alma, you're getting paranoid. I’d like to remind you that there’s a bodyguard standing outside our building 24/7."

"And don't you think he's a bit nosy, with all his questions that come out of nowhere?"

"He’s trying to get involved! Do you think it’s easy to fit into the Lancaster clan?"

"Personally, you never had to lay it on thick, kiss everyone’s ass and pry into everyone's private lives!"

"Right, but I’m the perfect man, remember!" Vadim jokes, taking me into his arms. "That’s why you want to marry me."

"You are everything but perfect when you act like Alec Deroy’s defense lawyer," I grumble, snuggling up to his neck.

"Don’t you think Lily seems happy for once? Why don’t you let her enjoy it just a little bit?"

"Because I’m the one who’ll pick up the pieces when he ends up pulling a dirty trick on her!"

"If that happens, I’ll take care of him personally, OK? I know a guy or two who’d be thrilled to help me."

"And if that happens, Mr. King, will you publicly acknowledge that I was right?" I say, pressing my forehead up against his.

"Yes, Alma Lancaster! I’ll make a giant poster with your name in glittery letters and I’ll hang it on the Eiffel Tower."

I don’t get the chance to answer back before his mouth is on mine. His teeth nibble my lower lip while I moan, out of protest as much as pleasure. I wrap my arms around his neck to make the kiss last longer, but the kitchen door swings open with a crash!

"Your emergency has lasted long enough!" my little sister exclaims, trying to split us up.

"Family meeting!" Basile proclaims, in explanation of why he's there too.

"The brother and sisters are going to tell each other secrets while the 'outsiders' go chat in the living room, OK?" Lily says, pushing Vadim back out. "Take care of Alec, I think he likes you," she whispers into his ear.

My lover gives me a wink that makes me melt as much as it exasperates me, and I begrudgingly follow the two Lancasters who have decided to go up to the rooftop terrace.

"All right, me first! the pretty blonde chirps, raising her hand like at school.

"I don’t know why you’re asking; you’re the one who always hogs it anyway!" my brother teases, sighing exaggeratedly.

"You’re not going to believe me, but I think that things are serious with Alec. I’m really wild about him!" she says, practically singing, as she starts to dance.

"Oh, really? I didn’t notice a thing!" Basile says sarcastically.

"And is it mutual?" I ask, treading carefully.

"Yes, Mrs. Killjoy!" Lily replies, visibly hurt. "He told me tonight that he is in love with me and that he hopes we'll stay together a while. I think this is the one!" she squeals.

"Was that his declaration of love?"

"You can be a real pain, Alma, when you set your mind to it! OK, Basile, it’s your turn, so we can hurry up and get this over with!"

"OK… Uh… Are you ready?" my brother hesitates, rubbing his chin.

"Spit it out! I’m already worked up, anyway," my sister sulks, giving me a nasty look.

"Dad just told me that his chick’s pregnant."

"What?" Lily and I scream at the same time.

"Yes, he’s going to have a fourth child! Almost thirty years after us!"

"The bastard," I murmur, in shock. "Mom always told him she wanted to have one last one."

A TV interview!

First question: what in the world was Adrian thinking of when he suggested such a thing? Second question: what in the world could have happened to Vadim to make him agree to it? Third question: what could have convinced me to join him in this mess?

In the recording studio, seated on the huge beige leather couch, I cross and uncross my legs, trying to find a comfortable position. While I twist and turn, two young women busy themselves around me for hair and makeup touch-ups. I must have gained at least five pounds with the layers of foundation and hairspray that have been forced on me. I was also made to wear this sensible, little short-sleeved, fitted but not slinky, soft sky blue dress, insisting I acknowledge its “chic classic style à la Kate Middleton.”

Uh… Does anyone happen to remember that I am “just” Alma Lancaster?

Right at that moment, I really feel like the First Lady of the United States, used to making my brilliant husband look good, but who should, whatever happens, never gives her opinion. I didn’t get the choice either about leaving my hair out. My shoulder-length blunt cut is apparently “not serious enough," and I got nailed with this sophisticated, low bun. It’s pretty enough but keeps me from moving and makes me look like I have a stiff neck. I stopped protesting when, in the dressing room, my lover kissed me on my ear, bared by the bun, then whispered naughty things that made me shiver and gave all the females in attendance the giggles.

Uh… Does anyone happen to remember that he’s mine?

As for Vadim, he is perfectly relaxed: one arm on the armrest, the other along the back of the couch just behind my head. He’s wearing raw jeans, a white shirt, no tie, unbuttoned at the neck and a gray jacket that makes his eyes stand out, the overall effect being a relaxed, devilishly sexy allure. He artfully avoids the little hands that try to discipline his unruly hair. His laughing smile is enough to scare off the hairdressers and make-up artists who only have eyes for him – and who wouldn’t dare annoy him.

But what am I doing here?

Adrian’s bright idea consists of giving the TV audience the image of a “normal”, happy and tight-knit couple, so that Vadim can calmly answer Keith’s allegations in the tabloids. The main thing is to not play the media’s game – a calm, friendly interview, based on trust, in which he can express himself, prove that he is untouchable, stop the rumors and glow with happiness. My role? Keep quiet, smile, look at him, overflowing with love and admiration: that shouldn’t require much acting on my behalf. But the fact that everything is so impeccably calculated makes me a little uncomfortable.

Dozens of reporters would have killed to get this interview, and would have kept harassing us day and night if Adrian and his men hadn’t put a stop to it. My lover chose the only two women that he tolerates in this ruthless world: the American Martha Boyle – star of the channel
E! Entertainment
with a reputation for being “the best at making you talk,” and Margot Vaillant – a young daring, pushy French woman, a big name among movie critics and well-known for her strong opinions.

These two lucky ladies are going to question Vadim for over an hour and the interview will be broadcast as an exclusive, in France and in the USA, during prime time, on the two biggest TV channels. A “stroke of genius” according to Adrian who keeps giving himself compliments – most likely to make up for his screw-up and to win back his Vadim’s trust.

As for me, I still haven’t digested the photos found in the ex-FBI agent’s office… but apparently, the case is closed.

I know that Vadim hates it as much as I do. But he has this way of constantly faking indifference and composure, of locking himself up in his bubble where his mind can escape. Sweetly, he tries to take me there with him, in an attempt to reassure me.

I think I’m going to reconsider his idea of us settling on a desert island…

The two TV hosts, finally ready, sit down facing us on the semicircle couch. In a single motion, they cross and twist their slender legs and get into a “yoga-like” position – which seems perfectly appalling to me but which they seem to have been doing their whole life. I try to discreetly imitate them, but my body reminds me that nature did not endow all women with the same limberness. And I end up with my dress up around my thighs. Vadim’s hungry look and Adrian’s panicked one, make me quickly pull on the fabric. The interview is about to start.