Billionaire Romance: Club Billionaire (The Complete Series) (10 page)

I shake my head, and try to remain nonchalant. Yet the
idea that Kyle is asking after me is actually almost killing me right
now.

“
He also asked me to pass on a message.”

“
Oh, right? What message?”

“
He said to meet him at 10 PM in the left wing of the
mansion, beyond the banquet hall.”

Now I can't contain my excitement. Kyle's lust knows no
limits. He wants to fuck here, tonight? I can't deny the idea makes
me incredibly horny. Secret sex, with the cream of the US right
outside the door. What could be more exciting?

“
Right...thanks Julia,” I say, feeling I may have
misjudged her.

Perhaps my feelings of jealousy toward her have blinded
me. Maybe she really is a nice girl with no interest in him.
Certainly, she doesn't sound envious right now. She's just smiling at
me sweetly and preparing some drinks.

She drifts off with some remark about getting back to
work, leaving me to look at my watch. My heart lurches. It's already
9.55 PM.”

Without having any time to think, I immediately set off
toward the banquet hall. Inside, the night continues to descend, with
a drunkenness beginning to engulf a few members of the congregation.

I'm pleased for it. It masks my own secret mission to
meet Kyle as I pass by unnoticed. Remembering the housekeeper's brief
tour of the central areas of the mansion, I make my way toward a
small corridor leading off the hall in one corner. That, I know,
leads toward the left wing.

Nerves hit me hard, mingled with excitement. My heart
does little leaps, throbbing with the sound of the room at my back. I
reach the corridor and train my eyes towards the door at the end.

Just beyond the door he waits....

I step forward, leaving the party behind, the world
growing quieter. I grip the handle, already warm from a recent touch.
Kyle's touch...

Through I go, into an adjoining hall, dimly lit. The
door shuts behind me, and I stare out at the many doors leading to
other rooms, other parts of the mansion. To my immediate right is a
large staircase with a gallery above. Yet I see no movement.

It's quiet now, the noise of the event dulled to a
murmur. Then, out of nowhere, I see a hand come from behind me, out
of the corner of my eye, and close over my mouth.

My heart lurches.
Is this a part of Kyle's sex game?

I'm gripped hard, unable to turn around, unable to
speak. The hand on my mouth holds tight, causes a rush of fear to
rumble through me.

Then I hear it. The voice in my ear, dripping off a
slithering tongue.

“
He's not here to stop us this time, is he?”

Brad drags me backward, and now I start to struggle. I
twist, but he's strong, pulling me back as my legs thrash. We go
through an open door, into a small, quiet study. I'm turned around as
Brad kicks the door shut with his foot, then pushes me toward a desk
at the back of the room.

I'm pushed down, my chest crushing against the wooden
desk, his hands at the back of my neck. He kicks my legs open,
spreading them wide, and I try to wiggle away. But he's not letting
me go...not this time.

“
Don't struggle Belle. You wanted this before. And now
you're going to get it.”

His voice is jumpy, altered by alcohol. His mind is
lost, driven by rage and jealousy and the humiliation he suffered at
the hands of Kyle.

“
If you scream, I'll destroy you,” he says, my mouth
now free of his hand as he holds me down with one and pulls down my
skirt with another.

I feel his fingers working frantically, dragging my
panties down my legs, fiddling at his belt buckle and zip. I yelp,
but he threatens me again, and a fear seizes me that seems to cut off
my ability to speak.

There, numb and helpless, I'm raped. Any virtue I had
left is taken from me. My body used as nothing more than tension
relief by a boy with no one to answer to, a boy with ties so strong
he knows he's invulnerable.

When he's finished, he leans down close and whispers
once more in my ear, his entire weight pressing against mine.

“
If you tell anyone about this...if you mention it to
anyone...if you even think about going to the police...I'll make your
life a living hell. You know who my father is. Who will they
believe...the son of Oliver Turner, or a cheap slut hooker like you?”

Warm tears form in my eyes as he speaks. His words, as
much as his actions, crush me, soil my spirit and my soul. When he
puts himself back in order and leaves the room, I stay there, unable
to move for several minutes. Bent over the desk like I'm nothing,
discarded with the threat of violence ringing in my ear.

Tears flow, and my trembling hands lift up my underwear,
my skirt, and return me to my original state. Only inside, I fear I
may have just been changed forever.

I step out of the room, wipe my eyes, and desperately
try to regain some form of composure. Because right now, I have to
put on a brave face. Right now, I'm the most vulnerable and weak I'll
ever be.

If someone sees me like this, they might just drag the
truth from my lips. So I stand up straight, stoic and strong, and
return to the banquet hall to finish the night.

Chapter Four

I wake with a start, my hands shaking and mind ringing
with horrible memories. Fragments of a night I'll always pray to
forget but never be able to. Brad's slithering voice. The violent
thrust of his crotch against me. The pressure of his hands, digging
into my back, pushing me down onto the desk.

When I wipe my eyes in the darkness I realize I've been
crying, tortured in my sleep, replaying that night again and again
against my will.

I take my cell and see that it's only 4 AM, the dawn
several hours away. But I know I won't sleep from now. I don't want
to sleep from now. Let my mind be left defenseless in slumber, unable
to control the visions and sounds and smells of Brad as he torments
me from afar.

On the Monday after the event, I'm scheduled to be back
at Club Billionaire. I call in sick, unable to face it, telling Alice
that I've come down with food poisoning and am going to the doctor
this afternoon.

When Wednesday comes, and I'm expected once more, I use
the same excuse. I do the same on Friday, saying the doctor told me
to take it easy for at least a week. The time, meanwhile, is spent
trying to overcome the trauma of what I went through.

I spend the week in bed, mostly, unable to come out,
unable to face the world as if I've done something wrong. Above
everything else, I feel dirty, used and abused like I'm nothing, my
soul cracked and sullied and thrown out to dry.

When Trey and Glenn try to speak to me, I feign illness,
telling them they don't want to know what's wrong with me. With food
poisoning, it's always a good excuse, and they retreat without
another word. To strengthen the realism, I spend lots of time going
back and forward to the bathroom, pretending to use the facilities
when in actual fact I'm just going there to cry.

I begin to wonder, as I lie in the bedroom that has
become my prison, whether Kyle is thinking of me. Whether he's even
noticed I'm not around. For all I know, he might be away on business
and won't have been to the club for a while. Or perhaps he has but
just doesn't care.

Then my mind burns with the thought that Julia, that
fucking bitch Julia who led me into Brad's trap, is back getting her
claws into him. I always thought that she seemed too sweet that
evening, suddenly losing the fierce looks and smirks she gives me
down in the club and adopting a much friendlier demeanor.

Now I know why.

She was in it all along with Brad, party to his crime. I
wonder how a girl, any girl, could possibly be an accomplice to rape.
And all because she's jealous of me and Kyle, desperate to have him
for herself.

The thought makes me feel sick. That such people exist,
devoid of any sort of humanity. In my mind, she's just as bad as
Brad. In some ways, she's even worse. How she can do something like
that to me, a girl, knowing the sort of damage it would inflict, is
as callous and heartless as act as there is. The girl belongs in the
deepest reaches of hell.

When a new week blooms, I still cannot face returning to
the club. The thought that Brad might be there, drinking with his
cronies, ordering me around, is too much to bear.

I know he'll have no remorse, no regret. It's quite
possible that he's done it all before. When a boy like him, who's so
used to getting what he wants, is denied something, he takes it
anyway. That's the way his warped little mind will work, a means of
regaining the power, the control, that had been shifted from his
grasp.

It becomes obvious that Alice knows something's up. She
probes me via phone calls and text messages to tell her what
happened. I don't relent, of course, and merely stick to my story
that I'm ill.

As the days go by, however, I begin to wonder if I'll
ever be able to go back. I consider hiding away in my room forever,
blocking out the world and all the darkness within in.

But then I see Brad's smirk in my head, his arrogant
fucking sneer. Gradually, my fear turns to anger, my anger to hate,
and I tell myself he's not going to win. That when I'm ready, I'm
going to step back down there and show him that he can't hurt me.
That he means nothing to me. That I won't let my life be altered by a
stupid boy who knows nothing of the real world.

It's the middle of the week when Glenn appears at my
door, knocking and then peeping his head inside. I take out my
earphones and put my laptop to one side on the bed.

“
Belle...how are you feeling?”

“
OK, I guess. What's up?”

“
There's a guy at the door, he's wants to see you. I
said you were ill, that I'd check to see if you were OK for company.
Shall I let him in?”

My heart seizes up a touch, the crazy thought that Brad
might have come to my home rushing through me.

“
What's his name?” I ask quickly.

“
Err...I didn't get it. But he's pretty tall, dark
hair, um...brown eyes I think.”

My heart lurches again, but in a different way.

“
Kyle...” I whisper.

“
No shit! That's Kyle Lawson, your boss?”

“
I guess...why don't you go double check, then let him
in.”

Glenn nods, looking slightly excited, and darts from my
room. It gives me a split second to check my look in the mirror. It's
not good. Hair all over the place, no make up on. Eyes baggy and
tired. Body covered in nothing but sweats and a t-shirt. In short, I
look awful.

Moments later I hear a few words being exchanged behind
my door, then another knock.

“
Belle, can I come in?” I recognize Kyle's deep
cadence immediately.

“
Sure, come in,” I croak, my voice cracking from
inactivity.

I take a deep breath as the door opens, and Kyle steps
into the room and lightly shuts the door behind him. My only saving
grace is that the room is dimly lit, only a single lamp by my bed as
illumination.

Kyle moves forward and takes a seat on the bed, eyes on
me the whole time.

“
I see what you were talking about when you said your
roommates were stoners,” is the first thing he says. He sniffs in
deep. “You could get high just breathing the air here. Do you ever
indulge?”

I shake my head. I used to get high, but that part of my
life is over.

“
So Belle, what's been going on with you?” he asks.
He looks so beautiful in the low light, like a Da Vinci painting,
pristine and unblemished.

I shrug. “I've been ill. Hasn't Alice told you?”

“
She did. But I think it's more than that.”

He looks at me intently, watching for a change in my
expression. The slight widening of my eyes is enough for him to know
he's onto something.

“
Why do you say that?”

“
Because I saw you at the masquerade ball. It was
later, you looked...upset. Your smile was gone. Something happened
there didn't it? I could see it in your eyes.”

“
You were there?” I say, trying to divert the
question.

He nods. “I was. I saw you all night, smiling as you
worked. But that smile disappeared later on. Tell me what happened,
Belle.”

His eyes are piercing, cutting through me.

I shake my head as I speak, my breathing growing a tad
more labored as memories of Brad rush through me again. “Nothing
happened. I was just starting to feel ill, that's all...”

“
I'm not buying it, Belle. It was the Turner mansion.
I could see Brad watching you too. Even with that mask on, I could
tell which one was that weasel. Did he say something to you? Did he
do
something to you?”

His voice lowers, and he creeps in slightly closer to
me. When he lays his hand down on mine, I realize my fingers are
trembling.