HARD LEX: A Billionaire Romance (NIGHT OF THE KINGS SERIES Book 5) Page 2

Me: Back to business. I’ll wear my mask at all times, or you’ll be blindfolded. And I don’t like to talk much.

  Lex: I figured that one out.

  Me: Also the rooms have to be dimly lit. The place cannot be in a hotel, or in any other public place. I will provide a clean bill of health, and I expect the same from you. We’ll meet only in the evening, and never outside that room. We will not socialize. Take it or leave it.

  I send my last message and wait, my pulse racing. Is this too much for him? Is he curious enough?

  Lex: Done.

  A smile climbs up my face. And then another message arrives.

  Lex: One condition, baby. I fuck you any way I want.

  My smile falls from my lips. What exactly does it mean?

  The seconds slip by. How do I answer this?

  What if he’s testing me? Should I ask clarifying questions? If I do, I’ll reek of amateurism. Without pondering much, I type back the answer.

  Me: Done.

  Lex: Clear your Thursday evening. Instructions to follow.

  I unlock the bathroom door, walk into my office, and crash into my chair.

  I might have just found the shortcut to hell.

  2

  LEX

  Life just got interesting again.

  I wonder if Secret Girl has any fucking idea what she got herself into. I bet she doesn’t, but curiosity got the best of her. That’s not to say I’m not curious as well.

  Oh, yeah baby, anytime a woman stirs me up that badly and makes me guess, I’m her man. Not in the way she thinks, but I still am.

  And that goes for sweet Miss Fox as well. She’s playing with the wrong man, and I wonder if she got the message that I’m in charge, not her.

  I finish up texting Sexton, and spin around, pulling away from the elevator and heading back inside. The receptionist lifts her gaze and parts her lips ready to greet me again.

  I give her a smile that makes her blush and press my index on my lips to keep her quiet.

  Instinctively, she clamps her hand over her mouth and grins to me as if we share a secret.

  I turn right and enter the corridor, heading to Dahlia’s office. The phone beeps in my hand, flashing an alert.

  I stop in front of Miss Fox’s office and swipe my phone screen with my thumb.

  What is it Bondage Girl? You can’t possibly change your mind already, can you?

  I pull her message up.

  Bondage Girl: One last thing. Money is not part of the deal. You DON’T pay me, and that’s non-negotiable.

  My eyebrows lift, a smile creasing my lips. Sure baby, whatever you say.

  Me: Fine by me.

  I press Send a second before I enter Dahlia’s office. Her phone beeps at the same time, and within a split second her eyes shoot a glance at me, her lips part with surprise, and her phone becomes airborne and lands in the middle of the room.

  Before I can erase the space and reach down to pick it up, she almost becomes airborne too and showing unusual skill and flexibility snatches it off the floor right before me.

  Resuming a standing position, she stares at me, her eyes so wide they could pop off her face.

  “Miss Fox?” I say calmly while she’s panting and puffing like a steam-machine. “What’s going on?” I ask, eyeing the phone she’s palming as if she’s stolen it.

  “Nothing,” she breathes out, panicked.

  I can see the drops of sweat glistening on her brow.

  “You’re back,” she says, half of her lungs pushing out with her breath.

  I shove my hands into my pockets.

  “I guess, I’m allowed to be back whenever I please. Isn’t it so, Miss Fox?”

  She nods, still unable to regain her composure.

  “What were you doing anyway?” I ask, pulling away from her and pivoting toward her desk when I hear a long exhale behind my back.

  Was that a sigh?

  I flick my eyes to her.

  Distracted, she bites her lip.

  “Yes?”

  “Your expense reports.”

  “Weren’t they supposed to be done last Friday?”

  She looks at me, frozen.

  “Miss Fox?”

  “Yes. They were.”

  “And you could’ve finished them on time had you not left early on Friday.”

  A blush spreads across her face before the color shifts, and her cheeks turn white.

  Revelation washes over her eyes.

  “Is that what this is?” she says, mustering enough courage to stand her ground.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, barely pushing my grin back.

  She straightens and squares her shoulders, a smile glinting in her eyes.

  “Are you still pissed off because of Friday?” she says, and twirls around, giving me a perfect view of her rear.

  She sways her hips and walks around her desk before she sinks into her chair, and locks her eyes with mine.

  “I’m not pissed, Ms. Fox. I’m concerned that your private business might get in the way of your work. We don’t want your performance to suffer,” I say, fucking with her. Majorly. “My expense reports are the perfect example,” I say.

  “You only know of them, because you came back.”

  “I come any time I want,” I say, barely keeping my face straight.

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I try to keep myself from laughing. Something must’ve spilled in my eyes tells me the small smile rolling on her lips.

  “What’s so funny, Miss Fox?”

  “You,” she says with a soft voice, and all of a sudden I feel warm inside. “I’m not going to argue the fact that you can come whenever you want. You sure know better than me,” she says, a mischievous smile flashing in her eyes.

  I tilt an eyebrow up while raking my teeth across my lip, trying to look remotely interested in what she has to say.

  Her eyes move to my mouth.

  “So what’s your point, Miss Fox?”

  “My point is that I do my job well, and you wouldn’t have anything to complain about, had I not failed to answer your calls on Friday. But I’ve only done it because you ignored me...” she says, her voice gaining strength and volume.

  “I’m not running my day according to your schedule, Ms. Fox,” I say, set to drive her crazy.

  Her eyebrows knit in a frown.

  “You were working out.”

  “And that’s my prerogative.”

  Her teeth grit with frustration.

  “Besides, I called you back,” I say.

  She looks at me, her eyes throwing flames.

  “Only because I dropped that lawyer’s name, who by the way, coincidentally, or not, has received an assignment that kept him chained to his desk in his office for the entire weekend,” she says.

  “He should be happy he still has a job instead of whining and trying to stir sympathy in your noble heart. It’s called work, Miss Fox. It has nothing to do with me. The man has to earn his living. Just because he couldn’t take you out on a date and blamed it on his work, it’s not my fault.”

  She studies me as I purse my lips, crushing a smirk, and having a great time messing with her.

  She leans back in her chair and folds her arms across her chest.

  “You’re fucking with me, Mr. Harrington,” she says bluntly, extra emphasis going on the word, and I can see she chose it on purpose to throw me off.

  “I am?”

  I smile wolfishly.

  “Yeah... you are. And you fucked up that poor guy too.”

  “I didn’t. It’s his job.”

  She waves me off.

  “Was that him?” I ask, and her eyes lock mine.

  I motion to her phone.

  “Is that why you threw your phone across the room?” I press.

  “I didn’t. It fell from my hand because you startled me.”

  “Yet at the same time you received some sort of a message,” I say, smiling mischievously.

  “People do receive messages... the
same way people work out and can’t answer their phone,” she says, getting back at me.

  “It may be, but not many people throw their phones across the room when they get caught... unless, of course, it’s a special message.”

  I slant my gaze down, and she snatches her cell phone and shoves it into a drawer.

  I was fucking right.

  Smiling, I turn around and head to the door.

  “Okay, Miss Fox. I’ll let you get back to work. Your friend, Mr. Mako, just got himself two more weeks on that work assignment.”

  A few moments of silence pass by, and just as I open the door, I hear her voice.

  “It wasn’t him,” she says.

  I turn around and gaze at her, my hand curled around the doorknob.

  “It wasn’t?” I ask, intrigued. “Then who was it?”

  So, it was a man. At least, she admits to that.

  “It’s not your business.”

  I let the door drop closed, and saunter back to her. Propping my hands on her desk, I lean to her.

  Her eyes go back and forth, a baffled expression on her face.

  “Last time I checked, this office and your time, belonged to me,” I say calm and smiling. “So, it is my business. You can do whatever the hell you want, just not on my dime. Are we clear?”

  “Are you saying I can’t have a boyfriend as long as I work for you?” she says, a soft smile glinting in her eyes.

  I nod slowly.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “You can’t expect me to do that,” she says teasingly.

  “I can. And I do.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah... really,” I say, my gaze dipping to her mouth. “It has nothing to do with you. It’s about work,” I say, realizing I can’t stretch it much longer.

  So, I pull my hands off her desk and stride to the door. Her footsteps rush after me. She slides herself between me and the wall, presses her back against the door and shuts it close.

  Her eyes dive into mine. We stay like that for a few moments before she drags her gaze down my neck and to the outline of my chest.

  “What is that?” she asks, referring for the second time today at the scratches on my skin.

  She brings her fingers to my neckline and smoothly flicks another button open. Her gaze sets on my chest as her hand traces the ragged lines.

  “Who did this to you?”

  “No one.”

  “Why do you lie?”

  “Why do you care?”

  She lets out a soft huff.

  “If I let you mess with my private life I need to know it’s for a good reason.”

  “What would be a good reason for you?” I ask, a sly smile rolling on my lips.

  She drinks in my eyes.

  “A bit more than only fucking with me for the sake of it,” she says, her fingers brushing my bare chest.

  A rush of blood pulls between my legs. My cock gets heavy, my muscles tense.

  “I have to leave now, Ms. Fox... if you allow me,” I mutter, sporting a full erection in my pants.

  “Sure, Mr. Harrington,” she says, stepping to the side and opening the door for me.

  Her gaze drifts down, and I rush out of her sight.

  “I’ll have your expense reports ready to sign off on them,” she throws at me, a smile in her voice.

  “No hurry,” I toss back at her, heading straight for the exit.

  DAHLIA

  My eyes stay on his broad shoulders perfectly outlined by his blue shirt, my gaze dipping a couple of times to his hard butt.

  He runs his fingers through his blonde hair combing all back as he vanishes in the elevator.

  I may need a defibrillator and an oxygen tank.

  What was that?

  Scratch that.

  How will I survive this?

  Three days from now, I’ll be spending an entire evening with this man. I will not last a second.

  Wilted, I peel myself away from the door, walk to my desk and plop into the chair.

  I move my eyes back to the computer screen, bits and pieces of the conversation we just had coming back to me. He was in a glaringly good mood, and he was set to drive me crazy, and I wonder why.

  He just made arrangements to meet with a stranger. And as far as he knows that stranger is not me.

  I try to focus on my work again. As I go over his expenses, something pops out. He hasn’t booked the hotel room, these past two weekends. It may be happenstance. Or perhaps, not. The hotel, as it turns out, is located only a block away from Silver.

  The day draws to an end slowly, the time barely crawling. He doesn’t return to the office, and he doesn’t show up the next few days.

  He doesn’t contact the Bondage Girl either.

  I wait patiently, per his instructions, and also, not to give him more power than he already has, I force myself not to contact him again.

  As Thursday comes to an end, I find myself at home, with a bowl of popcorn in my lap, by myself, and watching a movie. By eight o’clock, I’m convinced he changed his mind.

  The phone rings.

  Elsa is staying at her friend’s place tonight. At least, she called to let me know. That’s a huge progress. This new friend is not Tasha, and I can tell it’s not Jordan either.

  Judging by the rush she experiences when her phone rings, I imagine it’s another man.

  Around nine, the phone lights up again.

  I pause the movie, slide my finger over the screen, and instantly jerk upright.

  Lex: A car waits for you in front of Silver. You have one hour.

  I glance at the time. One hour? It takes thirty minutes to get to Silver when the traffic is light.

  Ugh!

  Well, the car will have to wait.

  I manage to get ready within thirty minutes. I call a cab, and a half hour later I arrive at Silver. It’s a busy night with cars waiting in line, and groups of people entering the establishment, very few walking away from it.

  I look around. There are several cars waiting.

  I pull my phone out when a hand grips my elbow.

  “Miss?”

  I turn around. A buffed up man motions to a black car pulled on the side. I stall.

  “I’m taking you to Mr. Alexander,” he says, and my heart jolts back in its place.

  It takes us about thirty minutes to drive away from that busy side of the town and enter the quiet streets of a residential area. The car comes to a smooth stop in front of a large piece of land, a gate guarding the place.

  The driver opens the door for me. I climb out and look up and down the street, no other house or person in sight.

  “That’s it?” I ask as he walks away from me.

  He glances at me.

  “He’s waiting for you inside,” the man says and without another word, steps inside the car, and pulls away.

  The phone flashes. I check the screen and pull the message up.

  Lex: 4378.

  He doesn’t like to talk much either. I look around, pull my black lace mask on, let my hair down and shake my head a few times, my tresses rolling down my back.

  Running my fingers through my hair, I fluff it up.

  My heels click against the pavement, the sound drifting, echoing at the other end of the street.

  I wanted private. He delivered private. A gust of wind blows through the leaves, making them rustle. Trembling, I rush to the gate, punch the number in and wait for it to slide open.

  A paved road takes me to a big house.

  Per my request, the place is dimly lit. The main door is cracked open. The house is big. Impressive. The windows, large and lined with darkness. A trail of candlelights shows me to a couple of steps.

  I push the door open. A large foyer sprawls into a living room. Rows of candles cast a soft glow over the dark walls, white curtains, and lavish furniture.

  Music drips in my ears. Soft and mellow, the kind of tune that makes you want to roll on a cool sheet, naked and with a man o
n top of you.

  A door must be open somewhere, judging by the breeze curling around my legs. I locate the door in question in the next room. It opens to a large patio that overlooks a custom-made pool.

  This must be his home.

  Slowly I turn around and peel my trench off. I let it drop on a chair, and then I see him.

  Leaning against the doorway, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other holding his glass. He’s dressed up as if he was out. The light in the background sets off his silhouette. His eyes sparkle in the dimness.

  He studies me in silence, the same way a hunter examines his prey, but without the angst. Calm, he knows the outcome.

  His gaze drifts down, taking in the short, illusion black lace tunic with straps of satin and metallic buckles, the high-end fashion version of a bondage dress. Then, he registers the matching stilettos.

  Satisfied, he smiles.

  Slow, measured strides bring him to me. Smoothly, he stops in front of me. We lock eyes, and I feel my pulse throbbing in my neck. I barely breathe when he slides his hand beneath my hair and curls his fingers around my neck.

  Leaning to me, he tilts his head, his lips trailing my jawline.

  A swarm of tingles spreads across my chest.

  He takes a deep breath, inhaling my scent, and places a soft kiss on my cheek. Another rush of tingles tumbles down, setting a storm between my legs.

  “You smell nice,” he murmurs in my ear, and goosebumps form on my shoulders.

  His thumb slowly rubs the side of my neck, the reverberations of his touch swirling deep inside my belly.

  He sets his glass on the table and brings his mouth close to mine. Simply breathing on my lips while stroking my skin, he sets my body ablaze.

  Hot and tense, I bring my hand to his chest. He smiles against my lips, fueling the burning need between my legs.

  He teases me. I know.

  His lips part and so are mine as my hands palm his hard, round pecs through his shirt. His arm goes around me, burying me into his chest. His scent and warmth wrap around me, intoxicating me.

  My lips tingle, eager to get a taste of him.

  He plays with me a few moments more, and then he flicks his tongue and meets mine. One last breath leaves my lungs before our lips connect, instantly burning as we melt into each other.

  Oh... my... God.

  Fire burns through me. His touch is soft and tender, quickly becoming passionate and hungry. I can’t believe a man can kiss that way. My nails sink into his chest as he turns my body into a tornado of lust.