Bared by the Billionaire (18 page)

Sam still monitored her contact with that FBI guy. Patterson was putting the pressure on, but so far the only thing Kyra told him was that she’d found nothing to implicate Harmon in any wrongdoing. And Harmon couldn’t fault her for trying to save her own neck by agreeing to work here undercover. In her shoes, he’d have done the same.

As for him, when he read something that sparked his interest, his first thought now was what Kyra would say about it. Although he could demand her presence any time he wanted, at work he sometimes lingered in the hall near her office like a shy, lovesick teenager with a crush on his new teacher, hoping to run into her where they could interact casually as co-workers, without the strict guidelines of their D/s contract.

When he glided through the water on his daily swim, he amused himself by imagining Kyra sitting on the edge of the pool watching him, like she did the first time they spent a whole night together. In his daydreams, she wore a different color bikini every day. And every day the daydream ended with him yanking her into the pool and stripping off the bikini, then crushing her in his arms as he buried his stiff cock in her hot, wet center, all the fancy machines and sensors forgotten.

She was so intelligent, even brighter than he’d realized when he first brought her on board. At his request, she was now attending board meetings and consultations with his attorneys and reviewed every document from his accounting firm. Lately, he found himself running nearly every decision past her before he finalized it. Both highly analytical, they worked well as a team, the first time in his life he’d ever done that with anyone. He’d had plenty of assistants over the years, but none who matched him in ability to
think
. Obviously, she didn’t have his grasp of technical concepts, but Kyra brought in another dimension. She had a way of bringing a problem to life, making him consider the human element behind the facts and figures and machines.

For example, she was the one who came up with the plan for Esther’s daughter. Esther had been with him for several years and Harmon knew she was a single mother. Her only child, Aliya, was incredibly bright. The girl wanted to study biomedical engineering and she’d been accepted at several good schools. But her heart was set on Stanford. She’d been awarded a scholarship there, but it was nowhere near enough to cover all the expenses. He’d offered to give Esther the extra money, but she was too proud to accept such a huge gift. Kyra found out Esther was planning to sell her house to help fund Aliya’s education, rather than see her daughter burdened with crushing student loans for years to come.

Last week Aliya received a letter from Stanford, informing her that she was the recipient of a newly established grant for students planning to major in her chosen field. It was more than enough to cover the balance of her expenses—room and board, books, even a small travel stipend so she could fly back to Miami during the holidays to be with her mother. Esther came to him, so proud and excited, to show him the letter. She’d never know that he was the one who funded the grant anonymously, at Kyra’s urging.

Kyra was like a little bulldog. When she sank her teeth into something, she didn’t let go. She pestered him about setting up a foundation, showing him a full Power Point presentation on why it would be good for business. When he finally said yes, she contacted Stanford, explaining that the grant was to go to Aliya. She made all the arrangements, set everything up so it was 100% deductible, then couldn’t resist pointing out that if he’d given Esther the cash like he wanted to, he wouldn’t have had that tax advantage. She was right—again. He planned to continue it now, expanding the program to sponsor five needy students next year, even offering them intern positions during the summer at DreamQuest Designs so they could earn some spending money and devote themselves to their studies full time during the school year.

If Harmon had been examining the evidence regarding someone else instead of about himself, he’d have come to the conclusion that Dr. Matthews was right. The guy in question was in love with Kyra Thornton. Madly, wildly, totally in love. But Jake Harmon didn’t fall in love. Never had. He’d never allowed himself to take that final step, get that close enough to another human being.

Love was messy, unpredictable. People in love did dumb things. They quit using reason and ignored factual data. They thought with their hearts, which was even more dangerous than Sam’s warning about thinking with his little head instead of his big one. At least after a man’s dick was satisfied, he snapped back into emotional sobriety. That’s the way it had always been for Harmon. He liked Kyra, sure. Hell, he even admired her. And no question about it, he
loved
the sex. But that was all.

There was a soft tap at the door and Sam stuck his head in, not waiting for an invitation. His face was expressionless. “There’s something you need to hear, boss.”

Harmon waved him in and Sam took a seat in front of the desk, laying a small recording device on it. He turned it on without saying a word and Harmon heard Kyra’s voice over the hum of traffic.

“I won’t do it.”

“You will if you want to stay out of jail.” The man’s voice was cold, hard.

“That’s an empty threat. I have a signed agreement that says the FBI won’t prosecute me, even if I don’t find evidence that Harmon had anything to do with the theft.”

“Slight problem there. I signed that agreement with you, but as it turns out, I don’t actually have the authority to grant immunity to anyone. My bosses never agreed to the deal.”

“You really are scum, aren’t you? You’re threatening me, forcing me to plant fake evidence in the DreamQuest computer system, knowing it will destroy him.”

“It’s him or you, lady. Your choice.”

“No. You can’t make me do that. I’ll go to your bosses, tell them what you’re planning.”

“As if they’d believe you, our prime suspect in a major crime. What’s the matter? Has being Harmon’s slut turned out to be more fun than you thought it would? Don’t worry. I’ll be happy to step in once he’s out of the picture. I’ll whip your ass good, and then make you get down on your knees and suck my dick. To be honest, I always thought Cabrera was a fucking liar. I never pictured you begging to be punished and humiliated. Guess I was wrong. But I gotta tell you, it gets me hard just thinking about it.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Plant the evidence that’s on this flash drive—or we’ll arrest you and prosecute you instead. I’m a personal friend of a couple of wardens in the Federal penitentiary system. If I pull a few strings, you’ll end up some place where I’ll be allowed to stop by and ‘interrogate the prisoner’ privately now and then. It will make a nice change for you from having to go down on some dyke every night. But then, who knows, maybe you secretly like that too.”

Sam turned off the recorder. “This was recorded yesterday by one of the men we have following her whenever she leaves here. She met the FBI agent, Patterson, at an outdoor café in Coral Gables. Our man managed to get close enough to record the last part of their conversation. She got up and left without saying another word. But she took the flash drive with her.”

“Thank you, Sam. I appreciate your hard work and your diligence in protecting me.”

After Sam left, he sat thinking again. Was he in love? Maybe Carmen had been right in the first place. Maybe he’d been a fool to allow Kyra to get so close to his heart. His original plan had been sound. Fill the empty spot in his life. Find a woman he could enjoy spending time with occasionally, one who aroused his mind as well as his cock. One who wasn’t blatantly after all the perks his money would bring.

Kyra had done that—and more. She’d gotten him out of the lab and introduced him to a world he had never experienced. A world most people took for granted.

They’d slipped out of the penthouse last Saturday and gone across the street to the crowded reggae festival in Bayfront Park. She’d looked so beautiful that day, not her usual buttoned-down self. Her hair hung loose, down to the middle of her back, and she had on flip-flops, a skinny tank top and a full length cotton skirt in a bright tropical print. He wore his usual uniform of jeans and black t-shirt. As soon as they got there, she bought him a tie-dyed Bob Marley t-shirt and insisted he put it on right that minute. Then they wandered around for hours, drinking mojitos out of plastic cups and sampling food from vendor carts while swaying to the music.

Kyra even taught him to merengue at a place in Little Havana. They danced till it closed at 4 a.m., thanks to the café Cubana she introduced him to. They’d eaten
ropa viejo
that night, on the patio under a star-filled sky. After dinner she ordered her usual strong brew. He finally decided to give it a try and ordered one too. The waiter came back with a white cup and saucer as tiny as a child’s toy. She laughed when he complained that it was far too small.

“Bring me a man-sized cup,” he demanded.

“
Senor,
I promise to come back and refill it as often as you want,” the waiter replied, winking at Kyra as he did so. “You have only to beckon me and I will be here.”

Harmon’s eyes bulged with the first sip. He finished barely half the cup, and was still wide awake when they left as dawn was breaking. “How do you drink that stuff?” he asked her the next day.

“You get hooked on it. You’ll see.”

“No way. Never.”

But now he often had a cup after dinner himself, especially when he was contemplating a long evening that would start with Kyra lying naked across his lap.

His cock responded instantly at that thought, like a randy buck that just picked up the scent of a doe in heat. Thank goodness he had Sam looking out for him. But if Kyra Thornton was planning to betray him, he’d damn well see to it that he had one more wild time with her before he threw her out on her ass. She wanted to be dominated. Fine. She’d be dominated tonight. And then he’d put her out of his life.

Chapter Fourteen

Her private phone buzzed, the one Harmon used when he summoned her. Kyra picked it up.

Tonight. 9 p.m.

Her pussy clenched involuntarily as she read the curt text. Kyra turned back to the computer screen hovering above her desk. “I’m through for today, Hal,” she said.

A disembodied male voice responded. “All right. Goodbye, Kyra.” The screen disappeared, folding in on itself as though being devoured by a black hole. That was one of Harmon’s private jokes. Every computer in the building had the voice of Hal, the omnipotent machine in that old sci-fi classic movie
2001: A Space Odyssey.

Kyra read the message again and shivered. Her arousal was already beginning to build. She knew from experience that it would only get stronger as the day went on. He had a ritual he insisted she follow. Today, Natalie would come to her suite at 3 p.m. She’d have Kyra disrobe and then check her thoroughly to make sure she didn’t need a touch-up on her waxing. Then Carmen would arrive with a light supper around 4. She’d lay out the clothing Harmon had selected for tonight before she left.

At first, Kyra was embarrassed when Carmen rummaged through the slutty outfits in the closet, pulling out see-through blouses and crotchless panties for Kyra to put on. One day, she found the nerve to make a comment.

“You know, I only dress like this for Jake, when we’re alone,” she said.

Carmen glanced over at her and smiled. “Of course,
querida.
But there’s nothing wrong with that. I see how you are around the other men here. You are always proper, always a lady. But if a woman is smart, she’ll act like a
puta
when she’s in the bedroom with her lover. And there’s nothing wrong with letting him warm your bottom now and then if he enjoys doing it.” She winked. “Especially if you enjoy it, too.”

Kyra blushed at that. She was sure Carmen knew about what went on between her and Jake. How could she not know, when she tidied up in the lab, putting away paddles and cuffs. But she’d never discussed it before, never even hinted at it in their gossip fests.

Carmen went on. “After all, a man must feel like a man if we want him to act like a man, no? I do whatever I need to do in the bedroom to make sure my Enrique still thinks of himself as strong and virile and in charge, especially now when we’ve been together for so many years. In return, he sees to it that I am very happy by the end of the night, usually many times over. Adding a new spice occasionally, a little heat to the evening meal—it perks up the appetite.”

Ever since that conversation, Kyra looked at the sex between her and Harmon differently. She’d always been ashamed of her naughty secret need to be dominated, to be spanked hard and then taken. But Carmen’s calm acceptance of D/s as simply another way for men and women to relate to each other and keep the excitement in their lovemaking opened her eyes.

Lovemaking. She loved him. It was that simple. She’d avoided that word out of fear. Fear that Harmon didn’t share her feelings about their relationship. Sure, he held her, kissed her, caressed her after sex. But he’d never said the words. Last weekend, when he reached for her hand as they walked through the festival at Bayfront Park, that small gesture touched her heart. When she first came here, any display of affection was foreign to him. The fact that he’d done that so naturally, so casually, gave her hope that maybe his feelings for her ran as deep as hers did for him.

Her contract would be ending in a little over a month. So far, neither of them had spoken of it, both ignoring the fact. Kyra was doing it because she didn’t want to leave here, leave him. She hoped Jake felt the same. But her meeting with Patterson yesterday had reminded her in a very unpleasant way that she’d been in his life all along under false pretenses. She’d already disposed of the flash drive, smashed it with her shoe in the ladies’ room of the café after their meeting, then tossed it into one of the many nameless canals that lined the streets of South Florida on the way home. There was no way she’d ever do anything to hurt Jake.