To Charm A Billionaire (Men of Monaco Book 1) (11 page)

Damien let the weak insult slide off his shoulder. Monaco was a small place and the latest run in would be a chuckle-worthy moment over late night drinks. Thank goodness he had a few appointments that could take him elsewhere. Now if only he could convince Anna to come with him, then he'd really have a bonus to enjoy.

H
ow
did anyone measure happiness
?

Damien couldn't explain the how, but he sure knew the end result. Although the clock was a minute away from midnight, his amped energy could light a few skylines in the Riviera. Anna promised a late night, almost early morning, visit with champagne and glasses in tow.

Their individual calendars pulled them apart more often than not. But he was determined to deal with realities of
his
woman—that felt good to admit—in a chief role of running her company.

A car's headlights swept across the sitting room. Anna had arrived. He popped up from the sofa and greeted her at the door with a deep kiss.

"Good to see you," he said after releasing her from his lip lock.

"I should do midnight drop-ins more often."

"Don't tease me. I could get spoiled rotten." He swooped her up and spun her around as her laughter bubbled up.

Anna laughed and hooked her arm through the crook of his arm.

"I've got a surprise. We're not staying here." He led her back out the door taking her large tote bag from her grasp. "We're heading to deep waters." He offered up a ghoulish laugh that earned him a jab in the ribs.

"I can't go off on any whirlwind trips. I've got a modeling assignment in Paris in two days. Figured I'd hang out with you and then take a late afternoon flight."

"What's it for this time? Perfume? Clothes? Sunshades?"

"Probably all of the above. The platform is about me being the muse for Jacob Banks."

Damien bristled upon hearing the familiar name.

"Don't get possessive. I've been working with Banks since the beginning of my career."

"And he was also your first lover."

She nodded. "You had a first, too."

"But she's not hanging on for a re-do."

"And neither am I." She swatted his behind and granted him a slow wink. "Keep me happy and I'm always all yours."

He bowed at the waist. "Yes, mademoiselle."

Anna's smile measured the depth of his happiness. And he never wanted a time when that smile did not emerge for him.

All the way to the marina Anna plied him with questions about his plans. Her persistence for hints made him chuckle, especially when her frustrations outran her patience.

"We're going out tonight?" she asked as they boarded the yacht.

He nodded. "We'll head out for a moonlit wine and cheese snack. Then I'll pleasure you into the early hours. And finally, we'll enjoy the sunrise of another day." He counted off each delight on his hand.

"You're the best." She kissed him and Damien decided to skip sharing the additional detail about skinny-dipping in the Mediterranean before breakfast.

After getting underway to an appropriate distance from the coastline, he set the anchor satisfied that he still could see the lit marina and Clubhouse, along with the other key features of the shoreline.

The calm sea gently bobbed the vessel with the soothing splashes against the sides. Below deck, Damien gave Anna a tour of the layout. His favorite room was the yacht's library with the smell of old books and the dark bold colors that allowed the space to form a comforting oasis to read or relax.

"Leaving the bustle of the city life was an excellent idea."

"Being on the water is sometimes the best therapy."

"I have a close second." Anna wiggled the bottle of champagne at him.

"Let's get started." He led her back to the doorway from where they'd entered the lower deck and headed toward the other side of the hallway. "Snacks are in the galley to our right." He popped the cork and poured the drinks before handing her a flute. Once he'd poured his drink, he raised the flute and waited for her to join in. "To us."

He swallowed the champagne in a couple gulps. "Good stuff."

"You sound surprised."

"Impressed." He kissed away her pout. "We have platters of delicious nibbles.

"Later." She sighed softly. "I only want you. Right now. Nibbling on me."

He laughed at her silly imitation of a twitchy nose rabbit.

"Come here," He beckoned her toward him. As she leaned over the dining table between them, he kissed her. With minimal effort, he pulled her up and over the table until she slid onto his lap, then kissed her.

Nothing mattered now. His lips brushed against her with an initial greeting before settling in for the long haul. Hungrily his tongue plunged into the sweetness of her mouth. His arms tightened around her body, his hands pulled up her shirt in bunched fistfuls.

She moaned against his lips. "Let's stay here forever."

"That sounds bloody marvelous." And he meant it.

She lightened his mood in a way that he didn't understand but craved. He'd catch her eyes fastened on him, gazing with such tenderness that he knew he didn't deserve, yet appreciated.

"Kiss me again." Her lips puckered and he accepted the invitation with his mouth equally puckered for a noisy mwah.

As soon as contact sparked, he transitioned his intent and performed a slow invasion. Gentle, but going with the pulsing rhythm of his desire.

He tasted her. Bliss. Sweet Bliss.

He pushed forward thrilled for her welcome to invade deeper into her mouth. More. He always wanted more.

"
Scopami
." Her ragged breath sweetened the command. Armed with a cheeky grin, she climbed onto the table and grabbed his shirt to pull him closer.

The soft collision of their noses erupted in their laughter. Noisy kisses intermixed with breathy giggles. Their hands disrobed each other. Not always coordinated. But nevertheless, they got the job done with clothes sailing and landing around Damien's feet.

Anna's moans escalated into husky breathless shrieks that stoked the fire in this belly. Her hands performed a seductive dance along her thighs, slowly stroking along the inner planes up to the triangular sweetness.

Tracking the journey of her hand to the spot between her legs, the motion almost caused his legs to buckle. His passion didn't want to be contained. He grabbed his dick dying to take aim.

"
Scopami
." Her second plea to fuck her wasn't going to be ignored.

"Stand."

She complied. Her face flushed. Eyes bright. Mouth inviting with flicks of the tip of her tongue moistening her lips.

"Turn and grab hold of the table." He loved playing this game with her.

She wiggled her behind at him.

"Open those legs wider. I want to look at you."

"Ooh, Mr. Laurent. Will you need a closer look?" She looked over her shoulder taunting him with her sexy invitation.

Damien dropped to his knees. Her intimate folds were wet and deep pink. He didn't waste any time pressing his mouth to the core of her desire. Pressing his tongue. Pressing it deep within her.

His hands cup her behind, kneading her taut flesh hard. The curve of her buttocks felt so good under his hands. He licked her from the base of her sweet spot up between her cheeks to the top of her behind. Once wasn't enough. He gave as much as he received of the pleasure.

His tongue lapped at her juice.

His dick wanted in on the action. Retrieving a condom from the first-aid kit, he didn't squander another second. His dick slid into her and he almost lost his cool.

"Harder. I want it rough."

"Tell me if it gets
too
rough."

She stretched her arms so that she held onto the corners of the table. The muscles along her back shifted and tightened. Her ass shifted and rubbed against his pelvis.

He swore loud enough to wake the neighbors if there were any on their watery paradise.

He pumped into her. Fast and hard. Quick strokes beating against her behind. To long strokes, almost pulling out. Teasing his tip before plunging back in to hear her yes hiss out at him.

His release shot out with toe-raising force. Every muscle contracted and joined in the explosion that wracked his body. Cries that were more animal than human powered up and out.

Her back twisted and torqued.

"Don't move," he pleaded. His body continued with tremors and after-shock of his climax.

"My turn." Her words disappeared into small ragged gasps. Her walls contracted and shimmied along his dick.

Damien gently covered her hands still gripping the table. The scent of their deed perfumed the air. And he reveled in the descent to their ride.

Later they lay on a makeshift pallet, under a tucked in sheet to form the perfect cocoon as his body outlined against hers. He stroked her hair following the path of the waves from the side of her head down past her shoulders.

Out here facing the black horizon, Damien settled down with Anna tucked against his chest. Should he feel contented? Peaceful? He wanted to relax and fall back into a safe zone knowing that Anna would be there with him, knowing that he had made the smart move to be his own master of his fate. But that was today. What happened tomorrow?

"Don't over-think?"

Damien jumped. He'd thought Anna had fallen asleep.

"We've seen each other at our most vulnerable. It's beautiful. I want more times like this." She pulled his arm tighter around her and kissed his hand.

"If only, reality could be less demanding of us."

"Don't let it control what you naturally desire and want. You've got a healthy passion for life. It's what I love about you."

He kissed the tip of her shoulder. The faith she had him overwhelmed him into contemplative silence. He loved her beyond logic and it scared him. To let go. To risk her disappointment. Again. Did he dare hope that one part of his life could be so fulfilling?

"I love you," he whispered, almost afraid to disrupt the surrounding.

Her gentle snore answered him. But he didn't need her response. She'd been honest with him, while he'd been tucking the seeds of his disquiet away from her scrutiny.

"P
lease tell me that you're not reading the tabloid newspaper?" Dallon pulled out the chair next to Damien.

"The Real Reason That Laurent Holdings Fired Its Own." Damien's anger simmered on a fast boil. The headline burned his gut. But the photo of him lounging on the deck of his yacht sipping on champagne while Anna worked on her laptop with the cell phone pinned between her shoulder and ear scored the desired effect. He looked like a lazy playboy who didn't deserve to run anything. Dane's criticism played in his head.

Dallon flicked his finger at the newspaper. "You know the editor likes to poke at you. And you fall for it every time."

"Like you ever have to deal with their nasty snide write-ups. They love you."

Dallon offered him a cheesy grin.

"Why are you here harassing me?" Damien slid the pitcher of orange juice toward his brother.

"Thanks. But, I really want this."

Damien watched the last two strips of bacon get snatched and demolished in a few bites. "You're wearing out your brief welcome."

"That's okay. Haven't had a chance to irritate you, lately. What's been keeping you busy?"

"Doing my thing."

"And not bothering to share the details."

Damien shook his head. "What I'm doing is no secret. Just that each step I take gets blasted on the front page. But I'm still working through a few business decisions, then I'll tell you all about it."

"Good. Sounds like your head and heart are in the right place."

"What does that mean?"

Dallon shrugged. "You look focused. You sound ... satisfied."

"Didn't realize there was a problem."

"Don't get all sensitive."

Damien bit back the retort about his already sensitive emotions that he couldn't control. Instead, he offered, "I like the direction I'm headed. There's risk. No guaranteed result. But I get a buzz every morning before I head off to work."

"You know you could be talking about Anna."

Damien pondered what he'd just said and nodded. "Pretty much the same."

His brother slapped his back. "Good. I feel better knowing that you are all set. And I'm here whenever you need me."

"Why did you pop over?"

"To grab a few strips of bacon." Dallon grinned and dodged a friendly punch to the arm. "Don't let these headlines mess with your head."

Damien had almost forgotten about the headlines. He turned the newspaper face down on the table. Dallon scooped it up and tucked it under his arm.

"Just want to finish reading when I get to the office."

What he said sounded like the average, normal activity that he'd expect of Dallon. Except, in this case, Damien didn't believe his brother. His brother's tight-lipped expression set him on edge and Dallon's tightening grip on the newspaper triggered alarms in the pit of Damien's stomach.

"Next time let's have dinner and let me get reacquainted with the lovely Anna."

"Sounds like a plan." Damien leaned forward and plucked the newspaper from under his brother's arm. "Shoo. Let me finish reading the papers. I'm already the lazy billionaire. What else is there to say?"

Dallon hovered.

"What is it? You've got my curiosity popping ... and not in a good way." He didn't bother to wait for his brother's hemming and hawing for the right answer.

Laying the newspaper flat on the tabletop, he scanned the rest of the headlines. All inflammatory. Deliberately written to strip its victim of his self-respect and cast him in front of the public to be judged by misleading and erroneous nonsense.

"Damien, don't get upset—"

"Wait! What's this?" Damien read the headlines and then immediately followed up with the introductory paragraph. He looked up at Dallon for a further explanation.

"Dad got the prince's account back with us," Dallon offered without any celebratory punch.

"Good. So what's this about having to clean up after his son?"

"I told you not to read that stuff. They lie."

Damien continued reading. He'd like to think that it was a lie and that his father hadn't said anything so blistering in a tabloid. But there was that telltale disclosure that they couldn't possibly know. The small detail underscored his relationship with his father from that point onward. "They didn't."

"Give me that paper. Why do you think our father would lower himself to give an interview?"

Damien shrugged and handed it over.

"Doesn't mean that he spoke directly with this guy. They may have used a young eager lady reporter to stroke his silly ego." His brother read, grunting occasionally as his eyes scanned the words. Finally, he finished with the task and looked up at Damien.

"Now do you think I'm exaggerating?" Damien shot out of his chair and stormed into the house. "Don't bother defending the bastard."

"You're getting emotional without the facts." His brother matched his stormy march indoors.

"Emotional?" Although Damien tossed out the word, the accuracy of the indictment didn't slow down the rage that built, continued to build, and overwhelmed any sign of logical thought. "I'm in no mood for your feel-good bullshit."

"Then I won't offer any. Wait. One second."

Damien was in no mood for a lecture. Too non-violent for his liking. "Leave."

"When you calm down, give me a call."

Damien continued his path through the house until he couldn't hear Dallon's advisories any longer. His head pounded as if it was held between a vice. The familiar ache slowly filled his head almost blinding him with its intensity. He sank into the chair and rested his head on the back of the chair.

The headache intensified to a jackhammer level. His only recourse was to shut his eyes and will his body to return to a calm state. This time, the simplicity of the plan didn't work.

Various parts of the article replayed in his mind as if on a never-ending loop. He counted backward from one hundred to focus on the consistent rhythm as each number ticked off softly on his lips. Slowly, longer than he preferred, the panic seeped away. Knowing that any sudden movement could trigger the resurgence of the symptoms, he stayed put and prayed for the memory to resettle in the darker regions of his mind, but it continued on the loop:

While most of his friends spent their summers vacationing with their families in Switzerland or skiing in Chile, Damien's time was a mandatory boot camp orchestrated by his father. The driver was sent with specific instructions for him to follow on what should be packed. He'd deviated once and paid dearly with a mile-long swim in Switzerland's Gorge du Vernon.

On his 16th birthday, he held onto the hope that the day would be different—normal. The driver would pick him up and take him to his father's home or yacht. Friends would jump out of hidden places to surprise him and sing off-key to wish him a happy birthday. For the remainder of the afternoon, he'd enjoy the party and flirt with the quiet sophomore who sat next to him in English class.

But none of those things happened.

The driver did come and gave him the instructions. He had to remove a few clothing items and replace with lighter weight clothes and add a compass and other navigational gear.

Finally, he was taken to his father's house and after receiving food provisions from the housekeeper, he was off to meet his father in Germany at the Bavarian National Forest. Or so he'd thought.

Damien arrived early afternoon at the Lusen National Park Centre and waited for his father who had still not contacted him. As promised, he'd called his mother telling her where he was and as usual, he did his best to reassure her that he was already having fun.

After waiting an hour, one of the park employees approached Damien with a thick padded envelope addressed to him. He opened the package with dread for this mysterious roll out of his summer vacation. A handwritten letter on pastel blue paper embossed with his father's name topped the folded geocache map.

Once upon a time he enjoyed the games of finding treasures in geocache boxes hidden in parks. But each experience earned him bigger challenges and higher risks to earn his father's enjoyment. If he couldn't successfully find the treasures, then the ride home wasn't pleasant. Philippe's disapproval had the power and destruction of a raging cyclone that broke Damien down for the purpose of building character.

Damien wasted no further time to get on his way to find the first of six geocaches. Within the hour, he'd found three. Early success lured him to believe that the rest would be easy. He should've known better.

This was Philippe's game.

Twilight descended fast. The occasional fellow hikers that he'd meet on his trek quickly trickled into no one in sight as the sun slid behind the trees. By then, he had the last geocache left. He had moved off the marked hiking trail and the cell phone couldn't get service.

Stranded!

Because he didn't expect to be hiking at this late hour, he had eaten his food. Thankfully, he still had two bottles of water which he now rationed. Would his father send help? Did he really want to know the answer?

Turning on the head-mounted flashlight, he flashed out a Morse code SOS just in case someone spotted the light. Better a person than the brown bears, wolves or wild cats that called the large area home. Plus he refused to surrender to the idea that he was lost.

However, his high spirits took a beating when the rumbling thunder signaled a rain storm that thoroughly soaked him and the area for several hours. Miserably wet, chilled and hungry, he decided against sitting all night at the base of the beech tree.

No matter how hard he fought, defeat stayed present with a tenacious hold. Thoughts of his father's displeasure over Damien's weakness help stave off a full meltdown. The mournful howl of a wolf on his right, then answered by another on his left, almost coaxed his own distressed howl. Please let his father be worried and kicking himself for sending him on this challenge.

As if his panicked feelings needed any further motivation, Damien saw the shine of a pair of eyes in the bushes straight ahead. He stayed still and hoped that whatever it was would turn and leave. A low growl ripped from the mysterious animal. Fuck. He didn't know what to do. Another pair of eyes joined in with watching him. Fuck times two.

He cursed.

He slowly pulled off his backpack and searched through his stuff without taking his eyes off his unwanted guests. Nothing proved to be a worthy weapon. And he didn't want to agitate the animals and not be able to run clear. His heart banged against his chest. He tried to get his brain to work out a plan, but the icy bath of fear chilled him to the core. Putting one careful foot behind the other, he backed out of the immediate space until he couldn't hear the growling or see the unblinking eyes.

Once more he tried his phone. Hot tears welled, but he didn't have time to cave when the growl sounded right behind him. No warning really. A deep guttural snarl and then needle-sharp pain spread around his lower leg. His Taekwondo lessons kicked in and reflexively he shot out a side kick that sent the wildcat back into the bush with a yelp.

Without waiting for the second wave of attack and knowing that there was still another wild cat in close proximity, Damien ran deeper into the woods. His leg suffered through the pounding as his blood pooled in his shoe. Not until he stopped from exhaustion did he listen for pursuit.

The forest wasn't a quiet place, but on cue, all the animals and insects paused in their symphonies for his benefit. Rustling to his left snagged his attention before a shadowy figure ran toward him. Damien ran straight ahead, tripping over obstacles on the forest floor. His cries tore through the night in a mournful shout as the same needle-sharp pain landed on his Achilles heel. He crumpled to the ground sliding a few inches until his shoulder hit a tree trunk. Another bite on his behind caused him to roll over to stop the mauling. His cries mingled with his grunts as he fought the barrage of bites and claws.

A series of dull pops sounded near his head. The pair of wildcats yelped and scampered off. Damien stayed on his back, staring up at the night sky that now showed off its twinkling stars. He didn't care about who came to the rescue. His body hurt like hell. He tossed his arm over his eyes and cried.

Fuck! He tried hard not to cave.

"Not bad, son. Not bad." His father's praise poured over him like salt on an open wound. "Let's go. You have built up character. That counts for running a company one day. And I know you will have what it takes to be a leader. But wipe your tears. No one wants to see a leader sniffing snot."

And that began his quest for his father's approval. A life-altering plan that often left him tense and overachieving. If he could, he'd rip out the whole experience.

Anna poured a double shot of scotch. For a few seconds, she considered tossing back the liquor down her throat to numb the shock as Damien shared the traumatizing experience. "Did you take any meds?" she pointedly asked. "Even if you don't need something, I feel like I need something."

He shook his head. He hadn't said a word since he talked about how his father patted him on the shoulder as the bodyguard lifted and carried him to the Land Rover.