My Billionaire Stranger (13 page)

Marcus looks thoughtful “Did your mother teach you gymnastics?” he asks playfully  “Why yes Mr. Castillo, she did, and I can deliver a calf and give a
huge
injection of penicillin thanks to my father so you better watch yourself,” I answer, with chin up and a quick nod.

“Well Imani, I’ll remember that when I have a pregnant horse or a massive infection.” He chuckles and I hear people shuffling around outside the door to his office. Before I can return questions about his parents and family, he begins to work and just like that I’m once again dismissed. I wonder about this habit, is it him being rude, or is something else going on? I wish I could corner someone who knew him before the accident, and ask them if this is the normal Marcus, maybe Maria. “Do you have a restroom nearby?” I interrupt.

“Yes, out the door to the left,” he answer pointing absentmindedly toward the door. So it’s ok to be away from him as long as he’s guaranteed an immediate return. I’ll have to remember that tidbit of info. I push the heavy unassuming door open expecting a couple of stalls and a sink for the employees but find quite the opposite. Wow, I feel underdressed, if these are the facilities for the staff I can’t imagine what the public restroom looks like. Black and white everything is everywhere, from the glossy black counters and raised sink bowls to the white stone walls, each stall separated with a black pillar. You could eat off of any surface in this room it’s that clan,  almost clinically clean like an O.R. I enter a stall just as two women come through the door, unaware of my presence. I don’t usually listen in to other’s conversations but I can’t help overhear this one when I realize they are talking about Marcus and I. “Did you see the car?” A woman with a Spanish accent speaks first.

“What, no, who’s car?” The second answers with note of fear in her scratchy cigarette abused voice.

“The beast is back, I saw them pull around in the Maybach, I can’t believe he’s out of the hospital so soon! I mean shit Megan died in that accident!” The Hispanic woman says with disbelief.

“They let him out? Oh never mind…knowing him he probably just left.” Wow, they know him well. “I thought he was in a coma, I was actually a little relieved, it’s been nice around here with him gone.”

“Yea, I haven’t had to iron my panties or scrub my hands with a Billow pad for 10 days!” The smoker giggled. No way am I letting them know someone is in the bathroom with them now, I want to hear more about
the beast
. Maybe I’ll learn something about his pre-accident personality. Slowly and quietly, I press my hands to the sides of the stalls cool stone walls and lift my feet to the toilet so no one can see them under the door. Not breathing, I perch on the toilet edge and continue to eavesdrop.  I silently thank my mom for Twenty-two years of gymnastics; they’re finally coming in handy!

“Elijah isn’t much better, but at least he doesn’t time our breaks to the second and threaten us with death if we sneak out to smoke,” Accent says. “Or make you clean your area with a toothbrush for hours…oh wait, never mind Elijah made me do that once too, he’s a mini beast.” The women chuckle and take care of business in the restroom but when they come out of their stalls to wash at the sink, they strike up again.

“If the pay here weren’t so damn good I’d fuckin be out of here right now,” scratchy voice says. Shit is he really that bad? 

“Did you know Christen says he’s in the Italian mob or something? You ever notice people that he fires just disappear, like I mean they’re never around anywhere again, ever?” Accent says.

“Mob, like you think he’s having them killed? Carmen, you’re nuts- he’s awful, horrible even, but murder…. No way!”

Accent snorts, “You’re so naive Trinity, in my country people are killed for much less, life has no value in Columbia. You’re just a warm body to do what the boss wants, and if you’re lucky you get to go home to your family at night.” Whoa, Carmen is full of educational information. Note to self, never fucking go to Columbia, and where have I heard that comment about being a warm body before? That speech must be one Marcus makes regularly.

“Well, that’s Columbia not Washington, and nobody’s going to kill me if I get a new menu item wrong. I just don’t believe that.”

“Suit yourself, but if I ever disappear, you pack your bags and run far away, I’m telling you,” accent says, very seriously. Scratchy doesn’t respond and I imagine her mouth hanging open in shock at the thought of her friend being murdered. They finish up, taking a
long
time washing their hands and drying them. Either they’re stretching out a break or the beast has the idea of cleanliness burned into every fiber of their being. God they wash a long time, my legs are actually starting to become numb. When they exit I let myself down and pee, while I review and attempt to make sense of this new information. Mob. Maybe its just denial but I’m with Trinity. No way is Marcus in any mob, is there any such thing as an Italian mob? He does have an awfully extravagant home. No, no, no, he said his aunt left him money; those women are just spreading crazy gossip. I choose to believe and trust Marcus’s explanation but at the same time I wonder where Aunt Angelica got her wealth.

Chapter 17

I slip into Marcus’s office without another employee run-in along the way. I think they must all be in the kitchen now, or out front as it’s nearly time for lunch.  Marcus is on the phone, and I return to my spot on the couch, when I sit down I start checking out the decor of his office. It’s big of course, that’s a given. No windows back here, the lighting is dim, other than the light on his desk. A fireplace, much, much smaller than the one at his house, burns gas in the corner. An entire wall of mahogany book shelves are built into the walls behind Marcus’s desk, all the contents protected by glass panels covering each shelf. There is not one personal item on those shelves, no books for pleasure reading, no photos or knick knacks, they hold books about business, manuals for Dominus, training information. This is his version of a filing cabinet, just incredibly organized and visually pleasing to the eye. Marcus’s office is another space of clinical cleanliness I note, along with the smell of cinnamon and maybe clove. I think I smelled the same scent in his house, he has an interesting taste in scents. Finishing his call, he announces that he’s ready to give me a tour of Dominus.

“Let’s go have a look around. Elijah better have things in order.” 

“Or what?” I ask, seriously wanting to know, but I think he takes it as teasing.

“Or I’ll fire him, along with everybody else. Then I will burn this place to the ground with all of them in it.”

I look up at him, mouth gaping apparently, as I work to remove his leg from the pillows. He reaches out to hook his knuckle under my chin, closing my mouth. “Joking Imani, I’m joking.” He dips his head, looking up at me through his eyelashes to make sure I understand. I shake my head a little trying to shake off my unwarranted shock. If I hadn’t overheard Accent and Scratchy earlier, I probably would have laughed that comment off for what it was, a joke. Marcus keeps his eyes trained on me as I help him up; he’s gotten the hang of the crutches quickly and doesn’t need much from me other than to open the door. Pausing outside his office, he points toward the right and we walk together down a hall that opens into…. well…. heaven…. white is everywhere like a winter crystal fairyland. We stand together on a balcony of sorts, looking down on the dining room. There are tables covered with white linen cloths, white carpet, and white chairs and walls; the only smattering of color is a small arrangement of lavender roses in the center of each table. I inhale a sharp gasp when I notice the chandelier that spans the ceiling of  entire room, like sparkling rain drops falling from the sky. It’s the main light source for the room causing it to be dim, intimate, romantic and breathtaking. A few tables are already occupied, and another couple is being seated.

“Oh …it’s… I’m speechless really.” His eyes sparkle with pride as he watches me take it all in. Smiling, and completely satisfied with my reaction, he indicates with a quick motion of his chin where the entrance is, and which direction the kitchen is in and I can literally can not speak so I settle for nodding.

“I normally enter the dining room from the stairs here but I do not want to maneuver them with crutches right now..” There’s a solid white curved staircase that leads from this landing right into the center of the dining area.

“Is there an elevator?” I’ve finally found my voice.

“Yes, this way.” We turn around and go back the way we came where an elevator lowers us down into the busy kitchen. The men and women cooking go about their business with no regard to Marcus and I. But the rest of the staff is immediately timid, anxious and apprehensive. A hush falls over the room, and I feel the tension thick in the air. Eventually everyone returns to their work, waitresses scurry around readying dishes, hustling gracefully in and out of the kitchen.

One brave and beautiful Latina woman approaches us, clutching her hands. She’s dressed in a cream-colored well-tailored pantsuit. It fits perfectly in all the right places, and her silky black hair is gathered into a loose chignon. “Mr. Castillo, I’m so relieved to see you back. How are you feeling, can I get you anything? Would you like to look over the reservations for this afternoon and tonight? Things should be in perfect order.” She rushes through the information, rattled but apparently used to anticipating his wants and needs.

“Tasha I’m fine, just a broken leg and yes, I’d like to see what’s going on today.”

She actually takes a jerky step back from Marcus as if she had just been slapped, wide eyed she begins to stutter, “Ah…ok…ok then let’s uh, let’s go out front.” What is her problem? His tone wasn’t threatening, he responded appropriately…didn’t he? Maybe that’s it…from what I heard in the restroom he’s usually an intolerable ass…. is the Marcus I’ve come to know so different than the one they are used to? He’s irritating and rude at times, but I’ve never been intimidated or frightened of him. The CT. we really need to get that done and see what’s going on. I wonder if he’s had some sort of personality change since the accident, from the reactions I just witnessed, reasonable and agreeable are not normal traits of Mr. Castillo.

I continue to observe the gorgeous pair talking about endless celebrity reservations and wines that are on backorder until Marcus turns to me. “Ready?” He’s looking tired, I know he’ll never admit it, but we need to get to the hospital and back home before he makes up an excuse not to go.

“Um, Mr. Castillo, there are some repair receipts that need your signature in the club, would you like me to get them for you?” Tasha asks. I get the sense she’s next in line after Elijah in the ranks of Dominus employees. 

“No, we can get them, it’ll give me a chance to show Imani around,” he replies. I feel Tasha’s tension easing ever so slightly; maybe I’m a buffer for her? Well if so, good. It seems like she could use a break. 

“All right, if you’re sure, I’ll keep you updated on every detail.”

“Yes Tasha, do that.” Still no thank you, Geesh. Marcus directs me toward double doors off the main foyer of Dominus and into the club. A mammoth fish tank, like none I’ve ever seen monopolizes the wall behind the bar. I imagine sitting at the bar would feel like being submerged in the ocean; salt-water fish swim in schools, with none of the constrictions of a small tank. There are five small, raised areas scattered among maybe twenty or thirty small table and chair sets. A huge stage monopolizes the wall of the club opposite the bar. Several thick aerial silks hang from the ceiling, a theatre-sized screen is mounted behind the rear of the stage, and a giant bowl full of water large enough for a person to swim in fills the space. What on earth happens here, Cirque du Solei?

Music plays softly throughout the room, strange music, defiantly not club music. It’s more like forest sounds with rhythmic drums and a haunting woman’s voice singing in a foreign language. I look at Marcus with questioning eyebrows. “Jocelyn Pook, Goya’s Nightmare.” he says

“Oh…I’ve never heard music like this before,” I say softly, listening to the unfamiliar chanting.

“No, I’m sure not,” he agrees.

“What kind of club
is
this?” I’m curious about what the platforms are used for although I have some idea.

“Entertainment, sort of an adult version of Cirque de Solei,” he answers casually, making his way past the entrance closing the doors and further to a tall desk. Ha, I knew it! Well the Cirque de Solei part, I don’t know about the
adult
part, strippers perhaps? He signs some forms that have been conveniently left on a stone desk where he will not have to search for them. Looking up, our eyes meet and he reaches out to me, I step to him, it’s almost completely dark where he stands, and the only light is a glowing blue hue from the fish tank across the room. Balancing on his crutches, he places his hands on either side of my face and quietly instructs me to close my eyes again. Narrowing them for a moment first in hesitation but eventually closing them as he asked, I hear him inhale deeply through his nose, breathing me in and exhaling with a contented sigh.

“Can you feel it, the way the music flows through you? Without sight your other senses become heightened.” I reach to touch his face and he turns his cheek into my hand. The music’s timbre is dark and eerie at times, but the rhythm is contagious, and strangely intimate. The magnetic connection between us is pulling stronger than ever as I step closer. Keeping my eyes closed, I touch his face slowly, tracing his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth and the edge of his eye, brushing the pad of my thumb over his long, thick lashes. I feel his pulse quicken when I skim over his neck and rest my hands on his chiseled chest. He accepts my exploring touch naturally, I move closer and he envelopes me in his arms holding me around the waist, almost completely standing on one foot, his crutches propped against his body under his arms while the music pulsates around us. Without warning, Marcus lifts me onto the tall stone desk behind me- he actually
lifts
me, balancing on one foot and propped on his crutches.

“Marcus!” I gasp and protest simultaneously, but he is shaking his head back and forth, moving between my legs. His  sexy as hell smirk has returned and it’s over for me. I’m completely helpless, I can’t move or speak, or even breathe as he smooth’s his hands down my neck and over my breasts pebbling under my thin sweater. I instinctively arch into his touch and he lowers his mouth over mine.  Kissing me deeply, penetrating my mouth with a desire that mimics the music surrounding us. My hands suddenly remember how to move and trembling, I slide my fingers into his hair and take hold, the music picks up-tempo and our mouths respond equally. Marcus unbuttons the front of my sweater slowly, never breaking contact with my mouth. A tiny voice in the back of my mind reminds me that we’re in a public place, that while we’re alone, someone could walk in at any moment. Shut up! I tell the damn voice. He’s pushing my sweater off of my shoulders, his hands trail down my arms and around to my now bare back where he skillfully unhooks the bra he had Maria pick out for me. He removes my hands from his hair to slip my sweater all the way off. I risk a peek and see that his eyes are still closed but his hands know their way around my body as if it’s been his forever. I immediately mourn the loss of his body against mine when he moves   away just long enough to trail soft warm kisses to my breast. A hitch of breath escapes me as he ravishes one and then the other. Every part of my body reacts to him in it’s own unique way.  The rough scratch of the scruff along his jaw against my breasts brings goose bumps to my skin, my back arches with every kiss he lays on my body, my tummy hollows when he traces a circle around my navel with his tongue before traveling down my belly nipping and kissing yet another trail until he hovers over my apex.  His hands suddenly disappear and I’m startled by the loud sound of scraping against the floor, my eyes snap open and I see he has somehow moved a chair directly in front of me where he had been standing. My heart stops, I mean I hear it actually skip at least one beat maybe two when he sits with his face directly level with my belly. Oh God, can I do this? Do I want to? Hell yea I do! Somehow, even with his eyes closed he knows mine are not and he gently brushes his hand over my eyes. When they are closed again I feel my other senses sharpen immediately. The music in the room hangs like a thick exotic mist pulsing slowly with a different rhythm now, softer, slower sultrier. Heedlessly I return my fingers to his hair, threading them through his soft, dark hair while he returns to licking and teasing me all around my belly button. I whimper as he traces the skin at the top of my jeans with just his fingertips. When he begins to unfasten my jeans, his advance stops abruptly and I again open my eyes to see what’s changed.

“Are you ok…is this ok?” he asks his voice laden with worry. I’m amazed at how fully his pupils have taken over his eyes, only a rim of bright green surrounds his dilated pupils, yet he could stop right here if I were uncomfortable.

“Yes…. please..” I beg, not nearly as practiced in self-control as Marcus has proven to be. I want this and if he suspects otherwise I have no doubt he will dress me and take me home, no pressure, no guilt, no problem…for him at least.

“Lift,” he instructs as he unbuttons my jeans. I place my palms flat on the desk and lift my hips as he peels them off, panties included. Clothes on the floor, I wiggle my feet out of my shoes until they drop with a light clatter. “The door is locked, no one will come in,” he reassures me, I recognize the core of his voice but those words are so full of sex and need he sounds like a different man. I sit naked before him on the cold desk, completely at his mercy, open and vulnerable. Miraculously, not to mention oddly, I have no inhibition, none. I watch his hands caress the curves of my body smoothing along my waist to my hips, down my thighs where he pauses with one hand on both of my knees. He raises his eyes to mine asking one last time for permission to continue and I don’t even know how I communicate that I’d rather die than have him stop but I do. He spreads my legs wide as he begins kissing the sensitive skin between my legs lazily from each knee to my core never quite arriving at the center of the bulls eye where my body screams for him. He stops just short of ecstasy only to repeat the torture over and over until I’m dizzy, breathless and soaking wet, desperate for release.

“You’re so wet for me Imani,” he says, right before dipping two fingers into my folds. I gasp, and he reaches around to my ass with his free hand to pull me to the edge of the desk roughly. “Ahh Marcus…” I sigh as I’m forced to lay back and support my upper body with my elbows. A vision of myself naked standing on the edge of a cliff looking down into the foamy surf during a storm with my hair billowing out behind me, eyes closed and ready to surrender my life to him flashes through my mind seconds before he bows his head between my legs setting every nerve ending below my waist on fire with his tongue, licking and circling my clit until he blesses me with a move that I know I’ll crave from this day on. Lifting and tilting my hips he sweeps his tongue from the very back of me along my entire slit all the way forward to my clit with one sweep.  Gasping between pants I’m lightheaded while all of my blood rushes to where Marcus performs his magic again, I instinctively clamp my legs on either side of his head but he gently repeats the process of spreading my legs with my knees, opening me wide and giving a little sharp jerk that clearly says
don’t move.
I grip his hair tightly as he alternates circling my clit and licking my outer folds with his expertly skilled tongue. I thrust my hips forward, offering more of myself to him, my orgasm building quickly with every electrifying movement of his tongue. Griping my ass on both sides to tilt me up fractionally he knows I can’t take one more magic sweep of his tongue without loosing control. He brings me to climax with his entire mouth and fireworks with colors I’ve never experienced explode behind my eyelids as I lose control.