The Billionaire's Hotline (Men of the Capital Series Book 1) (10 page)

Giving up the phone project, calling her Mockingbird, promising not to leave her—none of it added up to a good long-term prospect, probably. The man was a fucking emotional train wreck. But she’d seen what he could do with a cello and couldn’t help thinking what it would be like to have her body under his hands like that.

They’d made mistakes—her panic and throwing away the phone, the drunk dial, his early morning departure without a word, the silent weeks that followed. She might never admit it to anyone but herself, but she loved him. She’d loved him since he refused to take a bite of her sausage, and every moment since.

Hannah squeezed her eyes tightly shut and thought back to the night she’d burst into the Blake Bar in her painting clothes, shaking the phone at him and warning him away from Becca. His amusement, his intransigence had caught her attention, had infuriated her beyond the telling of it. When he had tried to charm her, a tiny part of her had considered giving him the phone because he was that charismatic when he wanted to be…and he had turned it on full force to persuade her. It seemed like such an awfully long time ago. Her life used to feel like so many empty rooms, with work in one and the rest a hollow blur. Then, with Jasper in her life, it had felt crowded and colorful and full of infinite possibilities. Noodles had no longer been the only thing she had to look forward to.

Now that was over and he was fornicating with gymnasts and probably increasing his dial-a-blonde list instead of pulling the plug on the ridiculously misogynistic project. She found obtusely that she couldn’t stand the thought of him with someone else, nor could she prevent herself from fixating on the idea. It made her feel restless and crazy. She wanted to dye her hair or move to California or get a pet snake—something, anything to take her mind off that man.

Chapter 9

Jasper

Jasper kicked the pile of Hannah’s presents to the back of his closet. Their existence, their presence there, haunted him. It was like she herself lurked in his apartment, watching and analyzing him…how many times he washed his hands, how many times he checked his email. He took up his cello again, picking out from memory the opening notes—not Bach this time, but Nina Simone.

His buzzer rang and the third time it interrupted him, he stomped to the intercom and barked, “What!”

“Delivery for you,” the doorman said.

“I didn’t order anything.”

“Your name on it. I’ll leave it here.”

Jasper waited until the man was gone and looked outside his door, where a small shipping box awaited him. He tore it open, exasperated, and took out a disposable cell phone with a sticky note on it.

You’ll receive a text with the location and time.

              It had to be Hannah. Or else Miss Hollingford had a sick sense of humor that was about to get her ass fired. He hoped it was Hannah.

              While he checked his email, while he reviewed spreadsheets and assigned projects, he had the phone in front of him, propped against the screen of his laptop so he wouldn’t miss a message. He went for a run with the phone tucked in the armband that normally held his MP3 player. He checked the ringer to make sure it was turned up, made certain it was fully charged. He had officially paid more attention to the wellbeing of that disposable phone in the last five hours than he’d spent on all previous girlfriends combined.

              When the screen lit up with a message, he caught his breath with a jolt.

             
The Blake, room 1890, one hour. Black tie.

              His heart raced. If this were Miss Hollingford’s idea of entertainment, she would find herself unable to get work at a convenience store. If it were Hannah, she’d be the making of him. Before he unzipped his tux from its garment bag, he texted the secretary.

             
Did you send me a phone?

              No, Mr. Cates, I ain’t some hard-up pervert who needs to give out disposable phones. Have a nice weekend.
 

Relieved, he allowed himself a tight chuckle and got dressed. It was only a five-minute walk, but he had no intention of being late. He straightened his cuffs, pushing in the reddish brown jasper links he’d bought in Thailand, and pocketed the phone, realizing he was already sweating through his shirt. Jasper dragged the presents out of his closet and put them in a bag.

              Jasper strode in to the flower shop and bought calla lilies, stopped by the coffee bar for espresso with double whipped cream, and made it to the room at the Blake with ten minutes to spare. He shifted the flowers to the crook of his elbow so he could knock. He heard the chain slide free and she opened the door. He took an involuntary step back just to look at her; gorgeous, in the ugliest purple dress he’d ever seen.

He held out the lilies and she took them, raking him up and down with a gaze he could only describe as filthy. She deposited the flowers in a glass of water on the bathroom sink and led him in. Votive candles flickered along a path to the bed, champagne chilled in a silver bucket of ice. The curtains were flung open so the city lights below gave an unearthly glow. She sipped the coffee and set it aside.

              “I—” he began, but there was no explanation he could give that would satisfy either of them.

He dropped the bag to the floor, let the door shut behind him and went to her, kissing her, backing her up to the bed. She tasted of sweet cream and bitter coffee and weeks of loneliness and fear. She pushed the jacket off his shoulders and threw it onto a chair. He unpinned her hair and let it fall in loops and twists across his fingers. He rucked up her dress and whipped it over her head, narrowly missing a lit candle when he tossed it aside. When he had her bare beneath his hands, he kissed her forehead, her temples, her jaw, dragging his mouth down her neck and across her collarbone, catching a shell-pink nipple in his lips and drawing on it. She moaned and yanked his shirt open, sending the buttons skidding across the room.

Hannah’s hands on his back and shoulders, gripping his arms and whispering what she wanted, how she wanted him to touch her next. His vision went dark at the edges from the scent of her, apples and sweat and a briny sweetness that was just her. Jasper stripped off the rest of his clothes, paused, and crossed the room to the bag he had dropped.

“You’re
stopping
?” Her voice held a poisonous threat and he shook his head. After insisting their first time be memorable, he wanted to take her on that rosy orange shawl, the one he had bought in Dubai the day he knew he was in love with her. Returning to her on the bed, he wreathed her bare chest in gold necklaces, wrapped her in the silky fabric, and took her face in his hands.

“I bought this in Dubai, that week you got me in trouble with the VP. It’s yours. So am I.” He dipped his head and kissed her, tasting the salt of her tears as he kissed her cheekbones, her eyes.

“You
are
mine. I know your voice and that was as sincere as your intonation gets. So here’s my promise—I’m about to make you forget a gymnast,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and grinning at him.

Jasper parted the shawl and touched her. His fingers traced her collarbone deftly, slipping the shawl off one shoulder and stroking the freckles that dotted her pale skin. She reached for his hand, laid it on her breast, and he heard the catch in her breathing as he stroked and pinched her nipple. She grazed his back lightly with her nails, kissing him with all the passion she’d thought she lost when he left her.

Hannah caught his hand and laced her fingers through Jasper’s, pulling him down beside her so they were face to face on their sides. Throwing her upper leg over his hips possessively, she drew his hips against her pelvis, pulling him deep within her as he gripped her face and kissed her like a man gone mad. Desperately, he thrust into her, his tongue keeping time with their rhythm as her hands pushed through his hair.

“I love you, mockingbird,” he whispered against her mouth. He felt her clench and arch against him, swallowing her scream.

“You were always good enough, but I’m going to have to quit calling you Virgo…I think you’re about to become a lot less repressed.” She gasped with a soft laugh as she rolled him onto his back and rode him, her palms braced on his chest, feeling the hammer of his heart until it was over.

Jasper pulled the shawl over her as she lay with her head on his shoulder.

“Miss Hollingford’s going to need a new job,” she remarked.

“She’s too dangerous to let go, trust me. I’ll set her to work finding us a place with room for a recording studio. I’m not sleeping in your living room, and there’s not room for a sound board beside my cello. We’ll need a new apartment. Something bigger.”

“It’s going to cost a fortune in foam for the walls alone,” she said. “I just got my equipment paid off. Who’s going to buy an apartment with a soundproofed room instead of a bedroom, Jasper? I’m going to be stuck with this mortgage forever.”

“I hear BDSM is making a comeback. Maybe someone will be thrilled to have a soundproofed room,” he teased. “Besides, I’m a persnickety rich boy. I can buy you wall foam for a housewarming present.” He toyed with one of the necklaces nestled between her breasts.

“I can buy my own soundproofing. I have some PowerPoints lined up. You can pay off my control console if you want to give me a present. You still have to see my studio and let me record you. You can talk about anything you like. I just want to learn the diction and intonation in case I’m ever called upon to voice a complete control freak.” She laughed, kissing him.

“Cheeky girl,” he said fondly.

*                                                                      *                                                                      *

From the desk of Annelise Hollingford

Dear Mr. Cates,

I have been in your employ four months. During that time I implemented the phone project as you specified, exceeding expectations by finding you not only a long-term relationship (as you claimed to seek as the end goal) but, in point of fact, a fiancée. Through the acquisition of sensitive information, sometimes in direct violation of current privacy law, and the provision of last minute symphony tickets, I snatched a romantic victory for you from the jaws of your admittedly questionable methods. The phone project has since been terminated and, as I begin my duties scheduling and coordinating the details of your engagement party, bridal registry, and all the attendant appointments thus entailed, it is my belief that my work merits a raise in pay and benefits.

In addition to an increase in my hourly wage, I herein request an additional week of vacation and a company vehicle, as I will be required to make frequent trips to stationers and florists as part of my role as social secretary during this planning season.

While I was finding you the perfect wife and orchestrating her acceptance of you (and keeping you stocked with hand sanitizer), my fiancé turned out to be a cheating no-good rat. As a result of this circumstance, I find myself in need of ready cash for a security deposit on my new, single-girl apartment. Consequently, a cash bonus would also be welcome.

Best wishes in your new life together,

Annelise Hollingford

Social Secretary to Jasper Cates

Cates Corporation

END OF BOOK 1

Book 2 Released September 2014

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Men of the Capital Series

The Billionaire’s Hotline

Book 2:
September 2014

Book 3
: November 2014

Bonus Excerpt from Leslie North

Excerpt from ‘The Russian’s Stubborn Lover’ (Download Instantly – Click Here)

Julia Thompson sat at the bar and watched the crowded dance floor, once again trying to find her best friend, Tonya, amidst the masses of writhing bodies. She pushed her glasses up on her nose, and her brown hair off her forehead, fanning herself to move the air around.

It was Friday night and they were supposed to be celebrating Julia having won the coveted exchange position in her company. Every year, three employees from the American-based mining company traded placed with three employees from the Russian-based mining company. Prior to this year, all of the exchange positions had been filled with men, but Julia had proven that she could hold her own in the financial world. Much to her counter-part’s dismay, she had been given the chance to fill the position for the upcoming year. She would be leaving for Russia within the next few weeks and needed a break before the madness of preparing to leave the US for a year began.

She had been ecstatic and she and Tonya had gone out to celebrate. The hottest nightclub in the city was
DYSH
and they had waited for thirty minutes to gain access to the inside. The crowd was to be expected so early on a Friday evening, and Julia hoped that as the night progressed, the people would begin to thin out.