Temptation: a billionaire erotic romance

Temptation

Copyright ©
2014 Christine Elliott

All rights reserved.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.  

*****

Serena bit her lip as she walked into the office, her stiletto heels clicking against the marble floors.  She hated heels.  Of course, she also hated offices, expensive jewelry like the pearl earrings she wore, and skimpy black dresses like the one she had slung on mere minutes ago.  But these were the terms of the agreement, and she couldn’t back out now.

For some reason, that thrilled her.  Though the thrill only barely pierced through the thick veil of terror that was slowly falling down on her.

Her jewelry clicked and tinkled against itself as she marched into the office building, a bit surprised as the titanic glass doors were opened for her by men in black suits.  The office was absolutely massive, all of it glass and marble and sleek silvery metal, and the more time Serena spent here, the more she worried she had made a mistake.  She kept her head down and stopped biting her lip.  No need to ruin the lipstick of the first professional makeover she’d ever been given.  Especially not when she was about to meet
him
.

“And you are?” asked the secretary at the front desk.  She slit her eyes at Serena, somewhere between suspicion and coma-level boredom.

“Um, Ms. Nicoletti.  To see Mr. Valentine Marquette.”

The secretary’s blue eyes popped open, and her pen slipped from her perfectly manicured fingers.  Serena flinched, now aware that everyone in the office—at least twenty people, Jesus—were now watching her like the freak show she was.  She tipped her chin up as the secretary composed herself.

“Of course,” said the secretary coolly.  She began scribbling on a small pass printed on cream paper.  “Mr. Marquette said he was expecting you.”

Really?
thought Serena. 
Thought he would have kept the bedroom and the office separate.
 

Then again, you never knew.  Maybe he was one of those eccentric billionaires you read about in the paper.  Oh God, what if they all knew?  What if they all knew exactly why she was here?  Crimson crept into her cheeks.

The secretary handed her the cream paper, and Serena’s eyes widened at its weight and luxurious texture.  “Walk down that hallway,” the secretary said, pointing to the left, “and then take the hall with the ‘Executive Division’ sign.  Knock, and Mr. Marquette will let you know when you can come in.”

The secretary gave Serena a dazzling smile about as genuine as her breasts.  Serena managed a tiny smile back, though it was hard to tell if the secretary bought it.  It was hard to tell anything with her heart beating so loudly in her chest.

You can do this
, Serena told herself as she walked down the hall. 
You made it through the first call, the interview, the contract signing….  You can’t back out now.

Of course, when she had first seen the ad, it had seemed exciting and fun.  Something dangerous and thrilling for a girl whose most daring act had been shoplifting a lipstick once in high school.  And how couldn’t she be interested, especially when it had been so mysterious?  She remembered it now:

PROFESSIONAL DOM SEEKS SUB—

Master seeks young woman for sexual slavery agreement, contracted for three months.  Includes bondage, BDSM, and kink to be agreed upon at time of contract signing. 

You know you want to.

That was what had gotten her, wasn’t it? 
You know you want to.
  And the things listed—bondage, BDSM, kink?  Just strange enough to get her curious, just filthy enough to hook her.  And, of course, the best part, located conveniently at the bottom:

Pay: $500,000 USD

How could she turn that down?  And fuck, she needed it.   God knows her student loans weren’t going to pay for themselves.  But more importantly, Harry needed it.  Stupid, stupid Harry, who
had
to get involved with the mob, who
had
to get himself kidnapped, who
had
to be the stupid brother she’d do anything for.  And so here she was, about to meet her new master, who,
surprise
, was apparently also one of the richest billionaires in the world.  Even now, walking down the hallway to her fate, it didn’t seem real.  She must be dreaming.  Right?

She reached the door, a massive thing of dark wood looking like the gateway to hell.  She swallowed hard, looking up at the golden plaque above it:

VALENTINE MARQUETTE

No business description, despite the fact that he owned this building along with half of Manhattan, and even more in his home country.  No professional title, despite the fact that Serena’s obsessive googling had revealed the man held two Ph.D.s.  Not even a title like “Mr.”  He was too famous for that, she guessed.  Everyone knew who you were talking about when you said the name Marquette, or even just his first name: Val, short for Valentine.  First name famous.  He was like Madonna.

Serena choked on a nervous giggle at that.  Oh God, she had to calm herself.  With her luck, she’d be laughing hysterically half way through meeting him and be fired on the spot.  And she couldn’t risk that.  Harry needed her.

Reluctantly, she reached forward and knocked on the door.  She waited a few seconds, growing paranoid.  Maybe she hadn’t knocked loud enough?  But would it be too awkward to keep knocking?  Maybe she should just run away now… Yes!  That’s it, she should run away!  She had to, it was—

“Come in,” said a deep voice from beyond the door.

Serena held her breath and turned the doorknob, trying desperately to slow her heartbeat as she stepped into her new master’s office.  What she saw when she entered she could have never prepared for.

Mr. Marquette’s personal office was absolutely massive, with a towering glass ceiling that must have been two, maybe three stories up.  Serena’s gaze raked over the room, taking in the dark leather furniture, the cherrywood bookcases and desks, the gold accents and endless plaques and awards that lined the walls.  For a moment, she forget what she was there for.  She just wanted to watch the room forever.  It was gorgeous.

Someone from behind the desk cleared his throat.  Serena’s heart stopped as the world fell down on her.

Reclining behind the desk was a tall man with light good looks, the kind you would expect from a quarterback or the boy next door.  A strong chin, golden locks, and clear blue eyes like her mother’s turquoise jewelry.  He appraised her from his seat, his arms folded across his chest, impeccably dressed in his dark silk suit.  Her gaze traveled to the buttons straining against a muscled chest, but she immediately chastised herself.

Serena clasped her hands together and kept her gaze down, intently watching the swirling designs of the scarlet colored carpet.  After a few moments, the man behind on the desk cleared his throat.  Serena glanced up at him.

“Are you here for something, or…?”  He looked genuinely perplexed, raising an eyebrow and fingering his watch awkwardly.  He walked around to the front of the desk and leaned back on it, watching her with a mix of curiosity and confusion.  Somehow it emboldened her, to see him just as unsure of himself as she was.

“I’m Serena,” she mumbled.

“Screamer?” he said, raising his eyebrows.  “That’s a bit forward.”

Her cheeks blazed red, but she tipped her chin up.

“I said I’m Serena.  Serena Nicoletti.”

“Serena?  Lovely name, quite lovely.  But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I’m answering your ad.”

“Ad?”

“In the Sunday Examiner?” she said, her voice getting hoarse out of embarrassment.  And also desperation.  Why couldn’t he just get to the point and remember her?  “You sent out the ad looking for a vi—a woman to hire?  I went through the interview process and the contracting.  You had your secretaries tell me to visit today at three, that you wanted to meet me today?  To, erm, complete our agreement?”

He opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it.  Serena watched as he leaned back and a playful smile grew on his face.  Oh God, what was he thinking?  He probably thought she was an idiot.  Maybe he had been teasing her.

“I’m very sorry, Ms. Nicoletti.”

“Sorry?”

“You’re here for the sexual submission job?”

“I—well—erm—”

He held up a hand, stopping her.  “No need, Ms. Nicoletti.  I understand.  But like I said, I’m sorry.”

Some other girl had gotten the job, she realized.  It was the only answer.  Her heart sank, though she wasn’t sure why.

“I understand.”

He chuckled amiably.  “No, no, no.  I mean I’m sorry … because I’m not Val.”

“What?”

“I’m not Val.  Please, sit,” he said, gesturing to a leather couch to their side.  She took a seat, keeping her hands clasped in her lap and trying to work out what was happening.  He poured some kind of amber alcohol into two crystal glasses as she watched with wide eyes, scrambling to remember which drink was the amber one—bourbon, maybe?  Scotch?  She didn’t even drink.  She was so out of her league here.

“So you’re here about the sub job,” he chuckled.  “Well, that’s quite interesting.”  He offered her a glass but she shook her head.  He shrugged and poured its contents into his.  “Never seen him send one straight to his office.  That’s a great honor, Ms. Nicoletti.  He must really like you, then?”

“I … I don’t know.  I’ve never met him.  You think he likes me?”

“Never met him?”  He furrowed his brow.  “That’s … interesting.  Even the girls he’d been seeing for months never came here.”  He shrugged.  “Or he’s going crazy.  I always told him he was going crazy.  Ridiculous old man.”

“Old?”

He laughed.  “Don’t worry, he’s about my age.  Though two weeks older, he never refrains from reminding me,” he grumbled.