Priceless: Contemporary Billionaire Romance Novel (14 page)

I
want to make love to you, Maribel…

Maribel
received his request with a hush of inner silence.  He grasped her hand into
his own. 
Will you let me make love to you? 
She held his stare, steady. 
Their fingers locked.  She kissed him with longing.
 It was the answer
he had been waiting for. 

He
guided her down onto the couch and searched out her mouth, tonguing her with
passion—luscious sweeps that entangled their breath.  Her arms crossed over his
shoulder as he mounted her and slipped his warm erection between her legs, settling
it where they both wanted it most.  Maribel closed her eyes and submitted
herself to the heavy weight of his masculine body. 

Are
you ready to accept me?
he whispered.

She
had never been more ready.
 

She
raised her hips, inviting him in.  He consented with a slow deliberate penetration.

Yeeeeeessssssssssssssss…
Maribel gasped, feeling the initial burn of friction before it bled into
pleasure.  Miles steadied her with tenderness…
you feel amazing,
he
exhaled and thumbed her clit with reassurance. 
God, how he always made her
feel so amazing,
Maribel thought, and arched her back, absorbing the
firmness of his cock and the stimulation of his fingers.  Every part of her
body ached to submit to him in every possible way.  But now, it was he who
seemed to be submitting himself to her.  He shifted his weight with precision
and allowed her to fondle his sack, closing his eyes and releasing his tension
to her touch.  Then, with a guarded thrust, he pushed into her again, his cock
searing deeper than before. Maribel embraced his chest, accepting him with
silent yearning.  Miles hugged her in return—a simple confession that he wanted
to stay inside her forever.  She sensed the change between them, and spread her
legs wider for him.  He settled into her and caressed her cheek.  She prepared
herself for the full force of his desire. He relinquished it and plunged deeper
with a determination to unite them in a way that neither one had anticipated,
but could no longer repress.  They both heaved.  Miles lingered, controlling
his urge to climax before her. 

I want us to feel it together
.

Maribel understood.  She wanted it,
too.  She lifted her arms and relaxed, allowing him to slip out his cock and
slip in his fingers, probing her deeper her with every sigh. 
He had come to
know her so well
, she exhaled,
so…so…well…
Miles slid his free hand
under her backside and groped her cheeks, loosening her inhibitions and encouraging
her to contract and release her wetness around his fingers. 

Yes, that’s it.  I can feel you changing,
he
whispered, and they savored her tremors and quivers together while alternating
between kisses of affection and kisses of passion.  Maribel gave into every
stroke, letting him build her up with the promise of an intimacy between them
that she had never experienced with any other man.  His warm cock throbbed—firm
and swollen—against her thigh, but still, he was holding off until she was flush
and ready to release herself to him.  Suddenly, Maribel seized with a spasm of
arousal.  Miles pacified her with a hush, and lowered his lips to suck off her
nipples, listening to the change of her every breath. 
Yesssssssssssssss…
the force of his hot mouth over her breasts and the rhythm of his stroking
fingers between her legs finally ignited a series of trembles and quakes that
only he had ever produced with such fury.  Primed and shuttering, Maribel reached
out for Miles and drew his ear to her lips. 
Make love to me, I’m ready for
you
.

Miles pressed his forehead against
her own—acknowledging the value of her unconditional trust.  He towed her up
from the couch and smothered their naked bodies over its ledge.  His tongue swung
into her ear and washed down her neck.  He steadied his chest against her back
and spread open her stance with his knees.  Cupping her breasts with his hands
and pressing his pelvis against her backside, he braced her entire body and
penetrated her from behind—a long enduring thrust that consummated the sincerity
of their union with one decisive lunge.  He accelerated his pace until they surged
in unison, the warmth of his undulating ripples coursing inside her.  Maribel
collapsed into Mile’s embrace.  He spooned her body and wedged themselves into
the leather cushions with a sensitivity that Maribel had never known.  The
sound of the crackling fire consumed their thoughts and slowed the rhythm of
their respirations—panting, emotional heaves that acknowledged what had changed
between them.  Maribel had never been in love.  And now, she was certain that
she never wanted it to end.

Chapter Thirteen

            Maribel awoke to the sound of husky voices. 

She was alone in Miles’ bed,
soothed by the morning sun shining in through the sweeping bedroom windows. 
She heard the distant murmurs of conversation trading back and forth, and
smelled the distinct aroma of breakfast.  She saw her pajamas, carefully folded
and lying at the foot of the bed.  It was a signal for her to get dressed and
come find him when she was ready.

            She wandered through the long open
hallways and found Miles in the kitchen, doing battle with a skillet and a pan
full of bacon.  The oil and meat cracked and sizzled, which drowned out the
voice coming through Miles’ speakerphone on the countertop. 

“It’s still on the table.  The
Olson & Anderson deal is
still
in play, but he can’t get the deal
done because you’ve been M.I.A. since Friday.”

Maribel sat down on a barstool at
the island.  Miles turned and greeted her with his eyes; they were bright and
inviting.  He looked fresh from a shower, his dark hair slicked back and his
skin smooth from a shave. He was wearing his matching athletic shirt and pants,
which accentuated his tall form and well-toned chest.

He mouthed to her—
Good morning
. 

She smiled and mouthed it back.  He
leaned over the island for a kiss and passed over a mug with more cream and
sugar than coffee. 
He had been paying attention,
she thought as she
sipped it. 
He knew how she liked her coffee.  
She glanced at the island
and thought about last night.  It felt like they were newlyweds, embarking on
their first morning as an official couple. 

Her eyes fell upon his phone. 
His
lawyer
, Maribel noted, recognizing his abrupt voice and the context of their
conversation.  Miles was right; they weren’t going to leave him alone—even if
he wanted them to.

“Gillian’s been pissing down our
backs and telling us it’s raining.  But I just talked to Olson.  He still wants
in at your Fields building and in on your terms. ”

Miles winked at Maribel.  He seemed
relaxed and playful.  He swapped out the spatula and skillet for plates and forks
and arranged each setting of toast and bacon on the island.  He was in-control
of their breakfast destiny—everything else could wait. 

“Hello, hello…? Have I lost you… am
I talking to myself here?”

“I heard you, Gary,” Miles answered
him.  “I’m just not certain that I care anymore.” 

“You—don’t—care?” Gary repeated,
slowly.  “Boy, Brax, you’re either playing hardball as punishment or you’re seriously
hung-over—or both.  I truly have no what idea what you’ve been doing for the
past four days that could
possibly
make you not care about closing a thirty-five
million dollar deal.”

 “I’m making bacon,” he said in
jest, peering at Maribel from across the island.  His eyes were warm and
endearing. “And if you were here, Gary, I’d share some of it with you, and we’d
take a moment to simply sit back and enjoy the finer moments of life.”  Miles
chomped down on the bacon, then offered a taste to Maribel. It was delicious.

“Oh, Christ, Brax.  Have you gone
completely Zen Hippie Hare Krishna on me?  Please tell me you haven’t shaved
your head and that you’re fully dressed.”

“Haven’t shaved my head—yet,” Miles
quipped, “and Hare Krishnas don’t eat meat, by the way.  Clothes, on the other
hand, tend to be optional around here.”

“Ugh,” Gary crowed, “TMI, Brax.
T-M-I.”

Miles snickered with juvenile
delight—the same amusement that Maribel often had seen when he teased her.

 “Well, you’ve left me with no
choice.  I’ve invited Don Olson here for dinner tonight and told him that you’d
be there to ink the deal.”

“Gary—” Miles suddenly grew
serious.

“Look, Brax, I’m your lawyer, not
your maid.  I’m here to close your deals, not clean up after you when you’ve
pissed everything away.”

“Maybe I have other plans tonight…”

“Other fucking plans?  Like what?”

“Like ice skating and hot
chocolate.”

“Brax… what the hell is going on
with you?  Have you completely lost your mind?”

“Probably.”

“Okay, I get it.  You don’t want to
waste any more time.  Message received loud and clear.  So let’s get to the
bottom-line—I’ve got a final contract here with every single one of your
original lease terms, and Olson is ready to sign when you’re ready to sign.  So
just get into that fancy helicopter of yours and get here tonight, and then go
back to living in your fucking merry winter wonderland—thirty-five million
dollars richer.

Miles looked at Maribel.

Helicopter?
she mouthed.

He shrugged. 
Just a small one
.
  

“What’s for dinner?” Miles suddenly
asked.

“Whatever the fucking hell you
want, Brax.  Just tell me what will get you here.”

“You, Gary… promising to cease your
usage of the f-bomb for at least seventy-two hours.”

“Oh, for fucksake…” Gary sighed.

“I mean it,” Miles countered, “and…”
he interjected after a long pause, “tacos and fried ice cream.”

“Oh, holy hell…are you completely
high?  And I suppose you expect me to wear a fuc--… freaking sombrero and hire
a goddamn mariachi band?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Great, just great.  Tacos, fried
ice cream, sombrero, mariachi.  Anything else,
El Capitán
?”

“Nope.  Just put me down for
one—plus guest.”

Chapter Fourteen

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh,
whoosh, whoooooooooosh
…… Through her protective
headphones, Maribel heard the dominating pulse of the helicopter blades,
gyrating through the air.  She squeezed Miles’ hand as the massive machine lifted
off the helipad on the rooftop of Miles’ condo building and into the twilight
sky.  It suspended them high above the entire cityscape, soaring like angels over
the mortal world, and cruised faster and faster across the infinite blue
horizon of Lake Michigan.  The chilling wind beat against the helicopter’s doors;
it made Maribel shiver with fear and delight.  Miles swept his broad arm around
her—a motion of comfort and security.  Ahead in the cockpit, they heard the
pilots reciting the navigation calls through their headsets.  Maribel peered
out across the vast swimming tides.  The jagged city skyline was only a distant
memory.  There was nothing to break their fall into the uniform waters except
the Laws of Gravity and the Laws of Fate. 

And then, as quickly as they jetted
into the sky and across Lake Michigan, they slowed their pace and descended to
the earth.  With skill and grace, the helicopter touched down into an expansive
manicured pasture, as if the machine was nothing more than a floating bubble
settling down in front of a magical lakefront estate, pitched along rolling hills
and cliff rocks.  The navigating co-pilot exited the cockpit and assisted
Maribel’s exit.  The shuffle of masculine hands and the whirling helicopter
wind pushed her away from the machine and through the garden terrace towards
the glowing lights of the Prairie-style mansion.  She slowed her gait as Miles’
protective hand embraced her own, and led them up a stone stairway and into the
open patio, as if it was his own residence. 

Several couples mingled near an
open pit fireplace with cocktails and inflated laughter.  They turned and
greeted Miles with familiarity.

“You just can’t arrive in
limousines like the rest of us, can you, Brax?” one of the women exclaimed. 

“It wouldn’t be Miles Braxton-Worth
any other way,” her date replied. “Glad to see you finally made it.  Gary said
you’ve been tied up with extracurricular activities.  Can’t wait to hear all
about them.”

“Nothing to tell, Pete.  Business
as usual.”

“Which means he doesn’t kiss and
tell, Pete,” the woman said with a flirtatious shrug of her bare shoulder. 

“Well, neither do I—officially,”
Pete countered, flashing his wedding band.

The woman rolled her eyes with
haughty disgust.  It suddenly was clear to Maribel that she wasn’t Pete’s wife. 
Maribel glanced at the woman.  She was dressed in a sleek silver dress and
vibrant purple stiletto heels.  She sipped from her martini and eyed Maribel. 
Women
always know how to size up other women
, Maribel thought, as she locked
hands with Miles who passed her through the sliding screen doors and away from
the couple without introductions.

“Brax, I’m starting up a new hedge
fund in China, we should talk…” Pete called after them.

Miles nodded, but towed them into
the house without delay.  Maribel glanced back at the woman, whose eyes spread
up and down her like greasy Vaseline.  Maribel suddenly felt self-conscious in
her sequined cocktail dress and shearling coat that Miles had chosen for her to
wear.  At the time, Maribel thought he wanted her to wear it to complement his ivory
Italian suit and lavender shirt.  But now, she understood the real reason:
Maribel was the newcomer—the novelty—and everyone would be watching and
whispering about her.   

They entered the grand living room,
its glass-paneled walls and cathedral ceilings echoing the mariachi music.  Guests
mingled near the elegant mahogany bar and lounged around a billiard table. 
Maribel caught an inviting draft from the freestanding fireplace, suspended in
the middle of the room like a burning cyclone of modern art.

“Brax—” a voice boomed over the
trumpets and maracas.

Maribel turned towards a tall,
handsome man jetting towards them.  He was wearing a tailored suit with matching
vest and a ridiculously large black sombrero.

Miles shook his hand, immediately.
“Impressive,” he said, noting the guests, live band, catering staff, and
finally his friend’s ostentatious sombrero.

“I am both a man of the law and a
man of my word,” Miles’ friend replied, throwing back his tumbler and crunching
down on its ice.

His lawyer
,
Maribel thought.  She always envisioned Miles’ foul-mouthed lawyer as a short,
pudgy, bald, exceedingly ugly man.  But instead, Gary was fashionable, tanned,
and beautiful—like all of his other guests.

Gary suddenly eyed Maribel. “I
wasn’t certain you were going to show, and now, I understand why.  Please tell
me this is the little mouse with whom you’ve been sneaking your cheese for the
entire weekend and all shall be forgiven.”  Gary moved behind Maribel and
politely removed her coat.

Miles smirked with Cheshire
mischief.  Clearly, they were old friends who knew more about each other than
they cared to share.  Maribel expected Miles to officially introduce her, but Gary
cut in first.

“Congratulations, Brax.  You’ve got
everyone chasing their tails.  No one expected this deal to be postponed for
this long.”

“I’m not the one who decided to
shop it.”

“But you were the one who decided
to put a freeze on it all weekend long.  So are you here to close it, or not?”

“That depends… how much am I
supposed to give up?”

 “I have the seventy-page contract
on my desk in the den,” Gary lowered his voice, and crunched down on his last
cube of ice.  “They’ve included every single deal point except the escalation. 
They’re keeping it at eight.  But you’ve got him by the balls because Olson
doesn’t want to be in Harvey Zale’s palm…. Hello, Marzena, lovely as always,”
Gary suddenly took the woman’s hand and swept her close for a side kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, darling,” she slurred
with her heavy Slavic accent. “I love the Mexican
hor d’oeuvres
and the
margaritas.” She lifted up her empty glass.

“Yeah, requested by the man of the
hour,” Gary nodded at Miles.

 “Nice to see you, Brax,” the woman
held out her hand for Miles to touch it, just as she was slinking away to the
bar.  “It’s been such a long time.” 

“Marzena, tell him to be nice to me
tonight,” Gary teased.  “I’m on his side.”

Marzena pouted on cue. “Don’t be
too much of a meanie tonight, Brax.  It’s still so early.  Do whatever Gary
wants, then come have a drink.”

The woman never once looked at
Maribel and Maribel noticed it.  She also noticed how Miles’ eyes lingered on
the woman’s fishnet stockings and how it was she who finally pulled away from
his fingertips.  It was as if everyone had forgotten Maribel was even in the
room, including Miles.

“Escalation at eight percent is
bargain for them,” Miles flipped back to business. “I asked for thirteen.”

“Don’t be a stubborn son-of-a-bitch,
Brax.  Olson’s here to do the deal, and I can probably get him to nine.  But he’s
ready to sign, and the contract has the escalation set at eight.  He’s been
waiting for you the last freaking hour.  If you blow up the deal tonight, all
bets are off.”

Miles scanned the grand living
room.  His eyes rested on a group of laughing guests near the decorative
champagne waterfall. 

“What’s she doing here?” Miles
suddenly narrowed his eyes.

“Gillian?” Gary countered,
following his gaze. “She’s with them.  I know you dropped her on her ass, but
she’s still their broker on the deal.  Plus, you know Gillian better than
anyone… she’s a canine bitch—her jaws won’t open until her teeth meet.” 

Maribel glanced at the group.  There
was an older, stout man in a navy suit and a mature woman with bleached hair
and heavy make-up, standing beside him, touching his elbow…
The wife
. 
Then, Maribel saw another blonde woman, holding a margarita with a pink
umbrella.  She threw back her head with grating laughter from her full red lips. 
Maribel recognized her from the department store, but more importantly, she
recognized the way Miles was glaring at her. 
Was this all about business or
personal revenge
?  Maribel felt Miles suddenly loosen his grip from her
hand—a signal that he was losing him to them.

Miles nodded over to the group.  “Are
you going to bring them over, or do I have to do everything?” he snapped at Gary.

Gary smirked with a glint in his
eye.  He stopped a server in a black catering uniform and lifted up two glasses
of white wine from his tray.  He passed them off to Miles and Maribel. “Take
the edge of first… I’ll see if I can warm him up before getting you two in the
same room.”

Gary stole a tray of
hor
d’oeuvres
from another server, then swaggered over to the group and greeted
them with exuberance. Maribel glanced at the server—dark eyes, dark hair, olive
skin.  The server seemed lost without her tray and purpose in the room.  The
woman did not make eye contact with Maribel; she simply scurried across the
hardwood floors and up the stairs.  Maribel glanced around at the rest of the
catering staff.  She suddenly felt like an imposter at a costume party.

Maribel glanced over to Miles.  They
were alone—their first moment of privacy since they had left the city.  She
waited for a word of encouragement from him, a gentle touch of his hand or a
tender smile.  But instead, he downed his wine and gazed over at Gary, who was
schmoozing the group with boisterous conversation and self-deprecating jokes
about his sombrero.  She watched as Miles’ eyes fell back onto the intense glowing
helix of the fireplace.  His jaw flinched with agitation and his blue eyes
hardened like marbles.  He was the one in-charge.  He was the one who called
the shots.  Everyone needed him now.  And yet, he was the one who seemed
trapped by his own inability to let it all go.

“I must have the honor of meeting
your gorgeous date…”

The smooth voice came from behind
Maribel.  The attractive man immediately held out his hand to her and introduced
himself.  “Timothy.”

“Maribel.”  It was the first person
who had introduced himself to her all night.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Timothy
released her hand with a nod, then turned his attention to Miles. “Gary didn’t
think you would show.  He accused me of not properly doing my job.”

“You can only manage my money,
Timmy.  You can’t manage me.”

“Well, that’s certainly true.  I
suspect your new lovely friend has learned that lesson as well.”  Timothy’s
eyes twinkled at her.  They were friendly and unpretentious, and she finally
felt at ease in the conversation.

“Brax,” Gary abruptly called out
across the room. “C’mon over here so we can draw swords and fight to the pain.”

Maribel watched Miles smile
reluctantly. 

“There you go,” Timothy nodded,
sipping from his brandy.  “Leave it to Gary to force all the enemies in one
room, just to see how much blood they’ll draw.”

 “Five minutes,” Miles said to
Maribel, “and then we’ll go outside to look at the stars.”  He tried to sound
reassuring.  She knew he was there to do the deal, but she also felt her heart
sink when he turned to leave her behind.  “Take care of her for me,” Miles
instructed Timothy.

“If she can handle you, Brax, I’m
fairly certain she can hold her own.”

Maribel forced a smile.  She wasn’t
a child.  She could hold her own.

Miles winked at her before crossing
the living room and reuniting with Gary.  Miles looked alert and confident,
ready to do battle and win. 

“You all have known each other for
a long time, haven’t you?” Maribel said.

“Fraternity brothers from college. 
Except Brax—he got kicked out of the frat house after his first year.”

“Really, why?”

“He slept with the fraternity president’s
girlfriend.” Timothy suddenly laughed and softened his voice. “Don’t look too
concerned.  The president was a real prick and his girlfriend deserved
better…and got it.  Brax fell in love with her and treated her like a queen.  They
got engaged within the year.”

Maribel couldn’t believe it.  It
sounded like the Miles she knew—sweet, romantic, devoted—and yet, it was a part
of his life that he had never dared to acknowledge.  “What happened?”

“Life—” Timothy replied. “Brain aneurysm. 
She didn’t even make it to the hospital.  Too bad, too.  She was a great girl. 
You know… you look a little bit like her, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“No, I don’t mind…” Maribel said,
her voice trailing off in thought.

Maribel and Timothy paused in
silence and gazed into the mesmerizing plasma churn of the fireplace. 
Suddenly, the Olson group burst out with laughter.  Miles was their center of
attention.  It was hard to ignore how calm and comfortable he seemed around
them.

“Anyway, I was a Finance major. 
Gary—Pre-law.  Brax—Calculus… But Brax dropped out of college after Cristina
died.  Then, within six months, he had made his first million.  That’s when
Gary and I knew he was someone to stay close to…”