Curves in the Dark (Billionaire BBW erotic romance) (2 page)

“
You sound like you were probably a bit of a rebel, though,” he continued, “so I could be wrong.”

Dominique snorted. “I guess rebel's about right. I started out with a degree in French poetry of all things from NYU. They didn't like that much.”

“
Woah I was way off the mark there,” Leo cackled.

“
Let me tell you they liked it even less when my boyfriend and I bought a pair of motorcycles and decided to ride off to California – not a trip I'd recommend, by the way. Especially over the rockies. Lots of really bad dirt logging roads.” Dominique wanted a cigarette. Something to smoke on was always good for these kinds of stories.

“
But you're in business now.”

“
Yeah, but your turn is over.” Dominique was having a remarkably good time of it. Not something she would have expected today. Or, like, ever. “So you work for the White House.”

“
Yes.”

“
In
the White House.”

“
Yep.” He should have a cigarette too. This whole conversation would look better if there was smoking involved. Luckily she could supply whatever images she wanted.

She shook her head. “How on Earth does and Irishman get to work for the President?”

Leo breathed a laugh. “Well they don't exactly ban all non-Americans. I'm pretty sure that'd qualify as discrimination.”

“
Yeah but aren't something like 90% of those guys lawyers? You can't have an American law degree,” Dominique said skeptically.

“
I don't. Do you want to guess what I have or should I just tell you?” He didn't wait for her to guess it and just kept talking. “It's in journalism. I'm the Deputy Communications Director.”

That was just absurd. “So you... write the President's speeches?”

“
Yeah, that's part of my job.”

“
You're fucking with me, right?” What were the chances of being stuck in an elevator with one of the White House senior staff? Probably about as high as one of them being an Irishman.

“
If I were fucking with you, why would I say I was the
Deputy
Communications Director?” Leo said sharply.

“
Because it's more believable.”

“
Here – look.” And suddenly there was a piercingly bright light as Leo pulled out his cell phone. Both of them cried out, unprepared for the break in the darkness.

As her vision cleared, Dominique caught a glimpse of soft-looking slightly curly brown hair and dark bedroom eyes before the light was suddenly shoved at her face. It was a Wikipedia page, complete with photo. She was right about the eyes and, my, he did have a blindingly lovely smile. Dominique decided she was right on point with the whole expressive face thing.

“
Bit defensive, aren't we?” she teased.

“
I don't like being called a liar.” Then the phone was gone and blackness swept back in. “You don't get to read it, though, that'd be too easy. Ruin our game.” Dominique imagined that brilliant grin playing on his lips now.

“
Alright then, how does an Irish journalism major get to work with the president?” This had become more of a question and answer session than deductions, hadn't it? Well that threw a wrench into her little plan.

“
Ah, ah,” he admonished, “my turn. Now I get to figure out how a biker chick ends up doing big business in LA.”

“
More hippie than biker chick, I think,” Dominique corrected him. More Gypsy than hippie, actually, including the whole fortune telling thing.

“
They're not mutually exclusive terms. Hm. You must've gone back to school at some point.”

“
I went and got a degree in business from Berkley about ten years later than I should have. Turns out it was right up my alley. You'd be surprised how much society balls in New England are like boardroom negotiations.” Her parents had practically pissed themselves in joy over the whole thing.

“
That's surprisingly fitting.”

“
Yeah. And now it's your turn. How does an Irish immigrant journalist start writing speeches for the president?” Dominique asked, wondering exactly when this had become story time.

“
It's actually not very interesting. I went to school with his Chief of Staff. He offered me the job.”

“
Does that mean I get another go?”

“
Sure, I guess,” Leo said hesitantly.

“
Are you here for campaign donations?” There. Now she was turning this in her direction. Campaign solicitations seemed the most likely reason, though it didn't exactly explain why Dynacorp would be so reluctant to see him.

“
Actually I'm visiting my parents. They're here on vacation.”

“
But you're working.”

“
Something unexpected came up.”

“
Something bad,” she said boldly. It had to be something bad if Dynacorp wanted rid of him so much. “They don't want you to get there.”

“
Yeah, it's bad. But I can't tell you. Really. I'm sorry.” That was a fumbled play. She might have lost this one by being too forward.

If she could have seen Leo, Dominique would have fixed him with a piercing stare and thrown the full force of her considerable presence at him. As it was, she tried to negotiate the rapidly deepening waters with what little resources she had.

“
This is something that could affect me directly, Leo.”

“
Look, this isn't middle school. This isn't 'you tell me a secret and I'll tell you mine.' This is breaking strict confidentiality agreements. Not to mention I suspect it's also insider trading. Those are both serious crimes with jail time.”

He was right. She wasn't just playing any more. This wasn't idle wondering about an intriguing mystery. This was something that would probably hurt her and her company and she needed to know as much as she could get out of the man.

“
This elevator is about as private as places get. Nobody would know.” Dominique didn't like feeling like the bad guy but he'd left her in an ugly position.

“
I would know!” Leo's voice was rising to a near shout. “You would know! And you'd come out of here and they'd know. They'd know why you're here today and they'd know why I'm here today and they'd know we spent God knows how long trapped in an elevator together. They aren't stupid. It's not much of a jump to make.”

“
I already know!” There. That was her trump card. “I might not know the details but I'm going to get out of here tonight and no matter what you do or don't tell me now, I'm not going to keep going with this deal. I know they're in trouble with the government. I'm not going to go playing with a company that could land me in deep shit. No matter what happens now, I've already changed my plans!”

There was a long, strained silence that leeched all the anger out of Dominique. She felt drained, empty. Now that she had let out everything that had been building in her, it felt like there was nothing left.

Then: “Shit.
Shit.
”

“
Yeah,” Dominique agreed dully.

“
Are you sure this isn't enough of an emergency for that bottle of port?”

“
God, why not? It's not like it's going to anyone in Dynacorp any more.” Dominique pulled it out of her bag. “We may as well make a night of it.”

“
It's probably about 3:00 in the afternoon, actually,” Leo replied pedantically.

“
I hate you.”

She was on a desert island. Somewhere nice, sunny, and tropical. Somewhere with no responsibilities, no potential breach of trust law suits, and moreover no obnoxious communications directors who were bent on her downfall.

Dominique took out the bottle of wine and the corkscrew and went to work. “There is no-one in the world I don't hate right now,” she griped.

“
Even me? I think I'm going to end up taking a bullet for you.” The cork came loose with a soft pop.

“
Especially you. The bullet will rip right through you and hit me anyway. Jesus.” Dominique took a long swig of the port. “I can't even call this a waste of good port. This is the best use for port. It is saving my life right now.” And she took another swig.

Dominique's attempt to pass the bottle was more than a little hampered by the fact that neither of them could see. She ended up waving the wine around impotently for longer than she'd care to admit. Eventually she caved and crawled across the floor to sit next to Leo and firmly press the bottle into his eager hands. She heard him downing an equal amount of port.

“
This could be the end of our careers, couldn't it?” came Le's melancholy voice from the dark spot next to Dominique.

“
Not if we're smart about this. And we're both damn smart. Just... step softly, y'know?”

Then the port was back in her hands and D was taking a long pull from it. A few more wordless exchanges of the bottle and her face was feeling warm and her head was pleasantly fuzzy. Their big problem, such as it was, started to look a lot less big and a lot less problematic.

“
You're right, by the way,” said Leo, “this is some of the best port I've ever had. In fact, it's definitely the best. I don't get much port in my life. Whatever you do, do not tell me what you paid for it.”

“
$1200. It's from 1945.”

“
I specifically just asked-” Leo made a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh. “I didn't even know they made port that expensive.” He took a delicate sip of the remaining wine and there was quiet as he tasted it. “Okay, that's an obvious lie, but this is still amazingly good stuff.”

“
Truly we are the luckiest of men,” Dominique said drily.

“
But you're a lady!” Leo giggled. His head came to rest heavily against Dominique's shoulder.

“
Give me that. I'm revoking your drinking privileges for that.” She sipped at the wine thoughtfully.

“
My head or the thing I said?”

“
The thing you said. It gave me second hand embarrassment.”

“
Good. You're comfy.”

A beat. “Right.” Another. “Some day we'll look back on this and laugh. Or we'll be in jail.”

The world flipped on its side for the second time that day when his head disappeared from her shoulder  and reappeared pressed hotly to her lips. It was the end of the world, after all, which meant instead of her sitting stock still in shock, this just made so much sense. Dominique leaned into the touch with a hunger she didn't know was in her. The world melted a little.

The haunting emptiness receded under the warm pressure of his mouth and was replaced by thick tightness in her chest threatening to spill over and overwhelm her. Dominique shuddered and wilted against the welcoming touch.

Leo's hands fluttered to her waits and with a sharp shock Dominique realised that this little fantasy was about to shatter. His roaming hands would tell him just as much about her body as a lit room and he'd know.

But far from vanishing, the hands began to caress her curves. A tongue traced Dominique's lower lip. She was trembling uncontrollably, she knew, but it had been such a long time since she had been so disarmed. Left so utterly open and helpless against whatever came. And it was
good
. It was the best thing she'd felt in years.