The Heir & I: Taming The Billionaire (17 page)

But, I wagered, not for long…

Chapter
Ten

~

The next morning I awoke from a dream; my mind swimming with beautiful images of a night of passion, sha
red with the man of my fantasy. I imagined myself in Oliver’s arms, our bodies entwining and our hearts pounding as one; kissing, embracing, our arms and legs entwining, until finally we joined as one.

Then I remembered with a sudden jolt that these visions I saw in my head were not dreams a
t all, but cherished memories. The vision that had lingered so long in my dreams finally was realized. Oliver and I had made love all night long; exploring each other’s bodies and fulfilling fantasies that had lurked in the recesses of both of our minds.

Although I’d lost my virginity in college and had two lovers before him—both boyfriends with whom I’d shared year
-long relationships—I’d never known the pleasure and tenderness I’d discovered in the arms of Oliver. Sure I’d had sex; but never before had I truly made love—at least not in the sublime, very special way we made it.

Aside from being an expert lover, pleasuring me in ways I never thought possible, he was endlessly kind and patient; asking me if I was comfortable and if I was enjoying our experience; constantly asking me what he could do to make it better for me.

“Just stay here with me,” I whispered, offering myself to him once again.

As he brought me to pleasure again and again, he whispered to me of my beauty and kindness, my grace and wit; all
the things he loved about me. He was whisper gentle one moment and expressed animal passion the next; yet always maintaining enviable control over his body and desires at all times. Our bodies seemed to merge as one as our hearts and souls followed suit. And after the loving reached its beautiful completion, he cuddled me soft and sweet in his embrace and whispered something in my ear. A softly spoken phrase that sounded suspiciously like, “I love you.”

Suddenly I couldn’t wait to open my eyes and begin my day with Oliver; a man that I was now convinc
ed was my real and true lover. Sex, after all, was not a part of our agreement; and neither were any declarations of true love. And, no matter how expertly planned or flawlessly well executed, no faux mance could carry this degree of intimacy or intensity. There was simply no way that he could deny the truth of our feelings for one another; just as there was no way I could deny that I was falling hard for Oliver.

At once I felt an overwhelming need to hold and kiss my tender lover; to greet a new day with my new love, to talk about our newfound bond and perhaps even make love again—repeating in full the ebullient journey that had carried us through the night.

Reaching my arm across his bed
I felt nothing but cool, satin sheets; apparently I was the current sole occupant of Oliver’s dream bed.

He must be downstairs, makin
g me breakfast. I grinned, stretching my arms high above my head as I writhed like a cat in bed. Or else supervising his maid’s preparation of my breakfast. Whatever works.

My cheeky grin dissolved abruptly as I saw a crisp piece of ivory white stationery laying on his pillow; one I retrieved with uncertain fingers as I struggled to focus my bleary eyes.

“Always nice to star
t the day off with a love note,” I chuckled aloud, grabbing hold of the folded stationery and opening it with anxious fingers. Perhaps he found it difficult to express the feelings that we both share so he had to write it, instead of say it.

My laughter and dreamy reverie were both silenced seconds later, as I read a note that sounded far more like an official office memo than a written declaration of love and passion.

“Hi Lil
y,” the letter read. “Hope you’re feeling well this morning. Feel free to grab some breakfast in the kitchen and let yourself out afterwards. I headed into work early to catch up on some projects. I’ll see you there later today. Oliver.”

My eyes widened as I reread the note three more times; a feeling of cold, hard shock overtaking my body as I considered his cool, formal words.
My shock was equaled only by my complete and total revulsion; a feeling sparked by words that could not possibly have been uttered by the warm, tender man who’d cradled me in his arms the night before. No, this couldn’t be him.

Crumpling the note in my hand with a heated sigh, I tossed it into a nearby wastebasket and jolted upright in bed; awakened in more ways than one.

Was this, I wondered, the end result
of a cold and calculated plan? First he tells me that we just have to date, for the good of the company; then he seduces me to get what he really wants before cutting me off cold?

I just could not believe it.
After being so cautious and guarded for so long, I’d elected just once to let down my guard. Just once I had let him in, opening myself to him. Just long enough to give him access to my heart, so he could break it.

For
a moment I buried my head in my hands and let loose with a single loud sob; a solitary tear creasing my cheek as I felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach; shattering like glass as I considered his words and, just as important, his actions.

“How could he do this?” I said aloud.
“And how could I, knowing all too well about his playboy reputation, fall for his clever little ruse? I always think with my mind, not my heart… why would this man, of all men, make me let down my guard?”

Shaking my head to clear it of its distressed haze, I sniffed back my tears and lifted my chin; steeling myself against the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm me.

OK, so I had made a mistake; trusting a man
when I’d clearly known better. And yes, it hurt, so very much but I would not allow it to destroy me.

With a defiant sniff I sat up straight in bed; squaring my shoulders as I choked back my tears and held my chin up high. Setting my lips in a defiant manner, I balled my fists and gritted my teeth as a wave of raw, angry power suffused and flew free through my veins; lending me a needed second wave of power and resilience.

After grabbing a wad of Kleenex from my purse and wiping my face clean, I arose from Oliver’s
bed and vowed never to return.

***

Oliver

Oh, no.
What have I done?

These were the thoughts that assailed my mind as I sat frozen at my desk; not able to work or even pretend to be working (a skill that I had perfected to an art during my years at Clark Industries).

My night with Lily had proven to me what I’d suspected all along; Lily and I cared about each other v
ery much, more than we’d ever thought possible. We’d discovered so many bonds and common interests that we’d never known existed. I had ‘caught feelings’ for this amazing woman and I could tell through her touch, her tender kiss, that she felt the same way about me.

It was magical. It was romantic. It had to stop.
Now, if not sooner.

Generally when I “caught feelings” for a woman, I cut off my feeli
ngs for her as soon as possible, cancelling all planned dates and conveniently forgetting to answer her phone calls or return her messages.

Of course, there was no avoiding or ignoring Lily; frankly I would fear for the very life of any man that e
ver tried either grave mistake. And, well, I’m not sure if I could live without her… professionally speaking, of course. And she’s a great friend. That’s all I meant. I couldn’t run this office without the bright, reliable Lily, who, I’d had to remind myself all too many times these past few weeks, was simply not my type. Not by a long shot!

I’
ve got to stop leading her on,
I mused, stroking my chin in a rare show of deep thought. She might think I’m really falling for her. And I’m not. I swear, I’m not. That level of involvement just doesn’t suit my lifestyle. It’s just not my style, in any way, shape or form.

My troubled meditation was disrupted by the opening of my office door; and the entrance of a cool, stone-faced women I hadn’t seen in ages.

I sat straight up in my chair and steeled myself against the return of Pre-Faux Romance Lily; a woman that sometimes looked at me li
ke it was my last day on earth. Or so she hoped.

“Your faxes,” she a
nnounced, tone cool and crisp. “And your phone messages.”

Dropping a small pile of papers at the center of my desk, she seared me with cold, narrowed eyes as she turned for the door.

“Thank you, Lily,” I matched her formal t
one, adding as I cleared my throat, “Look, I’m sorry that things got out of hand last night. I mean, I know we both enjoyed ourselves but it probably wasn’t wise. It wasn’t part of the original plan. And as badly as we both wanted to be together, I’m not altogether sure that we should have let things go that far.”

Lily nodded.

“Oh, after reading your brisk, rather short correspondence this morning, I realized just what a grave mistake we had made,” she agreed all too readily, folding her arms before her chest as she continued to send a steady supply of
daggers from her eyes to mine. “I think, in fact, that we may at this point want to cut off all contact outside of work.”

I sat stock still, my eyes flying wide as I considered these words.

“Well we might not want to go that far,” I sputtered, adding with a weak shrug, “Maybe we could just cool things off a bit for a while
… just take a step back and stick to a more casual dating plan.”

Lily arched her eyebrows.

“Everything has to invo
lve a plan, doesn’t it Oliver? And do you really believe that things could get cooler than they presently stand?” she asked, tone very cold indeed.

I looked at her for a long moment, then shook my head.

“No, I suppose not,” I agreed, tone soft and sad.

Meeting my words with another curt nod, Lily turned
with a flourish for her office, in the process managing to slam the door that separated the work spaces and, today more than ever, the space between us.

For a moment I sat still and quiet in my seat; trying to process in my mind the
events of the last few moments. Or, more truthfully, the events of the last few weeks.

Lily and I had been working together for so long; she was my support system, my chief assistant, my right hand woman.

I guess this is what happens when you have both of your hands
all over your right hand woman,
I snorted, burying my forehead in my hands.