The Billionaire Bargain 3 (10 page)

“Because
Louis wasn’t the only remarkable person I met that day. I met
Beth, a mother of four—three of them with special needs—who
not only looked after her family but brought the finest accounting
mind the world had ever seen to Devlin Media Corp. There are
computers who still make more mistakes than Beth ever did. I met
Luke, a war veteran who kept the building safe during the week and
volunteered teaching kids to read on the weekend. And countless
others.”

I
glanced around the room and saw heads nodding, people whispering to
each other.

“And
Louis explained to me that that was what made the company so great:
all these people, all working their hardest to the best of their
ability. And they did it for us because we were the embodiment of a
dream, of an ideal, of the future they all hoped for. They did it for
us because they knew that this was a company that rewarded
imagination and innovation and loyalty, a company that saw the value
of their contributions and used their work to sculpt a better future
for the whole world. They did it for us because they knew they could
trust us, because we had trusted them first.

“Ms.
Portia Smith would tell you that the glory days of Devlin Media Corp
are far behind us. But I tell you that today, we have employees who
shine just as brightly, if not more so. Mikayla, our development
intern who brings brightness and enthusiasm with the morning coffee.
Carl, our IT genius, who gives us not only an award-winning website
but has saved us millions of dollars in prevented security breaches.”
He smiled, his eyes flicking briefly my way. “And Lacey,
without whom, quite simply, nothing at all would be possible.”

I
felt my heart melt into my boots. But I still wasn’t entirely
sure where he was going with this.

“So
you see, this company can’t be reduced to just numbers,”
Grant went on, still conversationally, as if he and the audience were
having an intimate fireside chat. “This company is about
people. The hard work of a Louis, the imagination of a Lacey—they
can’t be reduced to a balance sheet. And we can’t sell
them out for a quick buck without shooting ourselves in the foot.

“My
grandfather built something great, it is true. We may never know how
he would have guided it today. We can never know how my parents—”
Grant paused to wipe away a tear, and there were audible gasps from
the audience—“would have shaped it. We can only know what
we want to have today, and tomorrow, and go forth to effect that to
the best of our abilities.”

Grant
stepped forward, his hands raised in entreaty. Yet the position
somehow looked not vulnerable, but noble. Commanding. “Ms.
Smith wants you to dream of the past. Ladies and gentleman, I think
you should set your sights higher. I think you should invest in our
employees and in our dreams.

“I
think that together, we should build a future!”

Applause
erupted, deafening. The first several rows leapt to their feet, and
then like a wave, the rest followed. My heart soared, and I could see
Grant grinning in hope and delight.

And
yet…there were gaps in those rows. It was hard to see in the
darkness, but there were people still sitting down. People who were
just naturally undemonstrative, or people who remained unconvinced?
How many? Too many?

Grant
came jogging backstage, where he enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug.
He was grinning still, but he was also shaking, coming down from the
adrenaline high. He was sweating, too, and I didn’t think it
was entirely from the heat of the spotlight.

I
hugged him back. “You were amazing, Grant. I didn’t
understand at first, but now I do. She told a story—so you told
a better one.”

“I
just hope it
was
better,” he whispered into my ear. “I tried to make them
see—I tried to make them understand—”

And
this was the man who’d once been so determined to act as though
he didn’t care. This was a man who once would’ve crashed
a speedboat before talking about his emotions. He really had changed.

“I’m
so proud of you,” I said, my voice cracking.

“Not
half as proud as I am of you,” he replied, his voice muffled in
my hair.

I
stroked his back, wanting to hold him safe from whatever the future
brought, and be held safe from whatever future was brought to me by
him. “Now what do we do?”

He
sighed, and I heard all my combined anxiety, exhaustion, relief, and
trepidation echoed in that sigh.

“Now
they vote. And we wait.”

I
hate waiting.

Thankfully,
Grant did too.

True,
we couldn’t have been doing that waiting in more comfortable
surroundings. Our hotel room was the size of a football field, and
considerably more opulent.

The
carpet was a deep rich shag that made you feel as though any second
you might sink into it up to the knee. Handcrafted furniture with
embroidered silk cushions was spread throughout the room so that you
could flop down anywhere and be assured of hitting a cushion before
you’d gone a foot; a fountain in the center sprayed water in
soothing patterns. Paintings that looked almost frighteningly like
they might be actual Van Goghs and Picassos lined the walls.

The
hotel staff had even thoughtfully laid out a complementary spread of
delicacies for us: salmon tarts, curry chicken finger sandwiches,
summer pudding, pickled watermelon spears, lemon white chocolate
squares, almond bark dipped in acai berries, and more things that I
couldn’t identify but that smelled simply divine.

I
say ‘smelled’ rather than ‘tasted’ because my
stomach still absolutely refused to let me eat anything, and mounted
a full-scale revolution every time I thought about doing so. In fact,
Grant wasn’t eating either.

What
we were doing—in our quiet, dignified, and elegant way—was
freaking the fuck out. I was slowly destroying my fingernails with
fiddling, and Grant was pacing up and down the suite like a cat. I
was pretty sure he was going to wear a hole in the carpet, or at
least a trail.

“How
long will this take?” Grant muttered for about the sixtieth
time, wringing his hands.

“As
long as it needs to,” I soothed, despite my own anxiety. “Give
the shareholders some time. It just means they’re thinking it
over.” If only they’d think faster.

He
kept eyeing the walls like he wanted to punch them, which was just
putting me further on edge. What if he took out a painting? True, he
could probably cover the cost, but if these were the originals of
whom I suspected they were, my guilt over the loss to the art world
would never let me sleep at night.

Grant
started wringing his hands, honest-to-God wringing them, and when he
made a fist, that’s when I knew I couldn’t take it
anymore. I jumped off my cushion and leapt in front of the nearest
maybe-Van Gogh. I could at least protect one of them.

“Enough,
Grant!” There was an edge to my voice, more frayed nerves than
actual anger. He paused mid-stride, startled by my shout. “Please.
We’re both freaked out right now and you either need to stop
pacing the room, or…or find some other way to redirect all
that nervous energy.”

“Oh,
I do, do I?”

A
smile quirked his lips as he raked his gaze up and down my body, and
I saw the unmistakable hunger in his eyes. I felt heat flushing my
cheeks.

“I
didn’t mean—” I started, but he was already
striding toward me.

Okay,
I’ll admit it: my arms may have already been held out as he
swept me up and carried me into the bedroom, laying me down on the
bed as though I were a fragile piece of china he was afraid might
break. His lust-darkened eyes devoured me, and I felt my heart speed
up, my breathing go short.

“Didn’t
mean what?” he asked.

“Nothing.”
I reached for him.

He
took my hand, his strong fingers interlacing with mine and squeezing
tight, as if to reassure him that I was still there.

“I
need you,” he said.

I
kissed his cheek. “I know.” And I did.

He
bent over me, his warm lips lighting fires below my skin as he kissed
my neck. Somehow, he also managed to wrestle himself out of his tux,
which I’d never realized had so many working parts involved.
And God but it took a lot of willpower not to ask him to put the
bowtie back on once he was down to his underwear.

My
left hand slid across his bare chest, sketching the planes of his
rock-hard muscles, teasing at his light chest hair, before dipping
lower and rubbing him through his black briefs. He immediately
hardened further against my fingertips, and he groaned deep against
my skin; I flushed and grew wet between my thighs, already desperate
to have him inside me.

His
left hand still interlaced with mine, his right began to stroke and
squeeze my breasts through the filmy fabric of my dress. Impatient to
feel his touch on my bare skin, I reached over and unzipped it; Grant
slipped it down my body with an impassioned growl and tossed it to
the floor, descending to suck and bite at my breasts through the silk
of my bra.

He
abandoned his grip on my hand, his fingers trailing down to stroke
over the lace of my panties, and then he dipped inside.

I
yelped as he touched my clit, seeing stars. He slid down the length
of me, and I savored the feel of his every muscle against my skin.
His hot tongue teased at the hem of my panties before his hands
tugged those down as well, and then his clever tongue was stroking
against me, feinting at my clit, diving deep within me.

I
arched shamelessly against his hungry mouth, my hands gripping at his
powerful shoulders as I twisted and moaned his name, “Oh,
Grant, oh, Grant, oh Grant…”

My
eyes slid shut in ecstasy, and he stopped. “Look at me,”
he ordered, his voice gravelly and deep. “Look me in the eyes
while I lick you. Look me in the eyes and tell me how much you like
it, how much you want it.”

I
forced myself to keep my eyes open, looking into the forceful blue
pools of his, even as the connection threatened to overwhelm me with
its intensity, push me over the edge.

“Oh
Grant, please—I want it—I want you—”

I
pulled him free and a groan escaped him as he raised himself up on
his arms, and then slid into me like he was coming home, a look on
his face as if he knew he was exactly where the universe wanted him
to be.

I
gasped at the sensation of him, even better than I had remembered,
even more strong. He thrust into me with steady, even strokes,
watching my face, leaning forward to slowly kiss away the track of
each tear.

He
stoked the fires inside me, letting them burn brighter then cool
down, a little hotter each time, still not quite reaching an inferno.
I stared up at his eyes, drowning in those pools of intoxicating
blue. My hands gripped at his back, at his ass, trying to drive him
yet deeper inside me. The pressure built inside of me until I thought
I might explode, and I pushed up against him, desperate for more
friction, for just the little push over the edge.

“Please,”
I whispered, stretching up to nip and nibble at his earlobe; he
gasped against my neck, the heat of it tingling my skin. “Oh
please, Grant, more, I need it deeper, I need you, I need—”

He
pulled away and I cried out, hurt spilling into my voice. But he
kissed me tenderly, silencing my protests, and firmly flipped me over
onto my hands and knees.

“You
want it deep?” he rumbled.

I
swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. I had forgotten how to breathe.
Breathing, what was that?

“Yes,”
I managed. “Please.”

One
of his hands gripped firmly at my shoulder, the other steadied my
hip. I could hear his breathing, harsh and eager.

This
felt primal, animal, as if he was about to claim me—but his
touch was kind, tender. I was pinned, trapped, unable to see him—and
yet it was I who had surrendered myself to him, who gave him my trust
and turned my eyes from him to let him do as he wished.

It
was everything I had ever been attracted to all at once and it was
driving me mad; I was so wet, so ready.

I
arched up against him, and he drove his cock deep inside me.

I
cried out, begging him to fuck me deeper, harder, longer, to fuck me
and never stop fucking me, to give it all to me until I couldn’t
take any more—and then I lost track of the words that were
spilling from my mouth, the words that were becoming gasps and
incoherent moans, I lost track of everything but his powerful grip
and his hard strokes slamming into me, taking everything I had to
give and demanding more, more, more—

The
fingers on my hip stretched up to circle my clit and again I saw
stars, the whole freaking universe, screaming as my orgasm hit, my
core clenching tight around him until he gave one final long thrust
and spilled himself inside me with a moan.

I
came back down to earth, and felt tears in my eyes. “You were
gone,” I whispered, my voice almost breaking. “I went
away, but I came back, and you were gone even though you were right
there and I thought I’d lost you forever…”

“You
could never lose me,” he whispered, and pressed a kiss to my
forehead. Were those tears I heard in his voice as well? I couldn’t
see. “We’re connected, you and I. The thread that binds
us may stretch and fray, but it will never break. And whatever
happens today, we’ll get through it. Together.”

• • •

We
quickly dressed, hoping that no one in the hall—or, God forbid,
the ballroom below—had heard our hot monkey sex and that they
had made a decision in our favor. Grant looked much happier, but the
worry wouldn’t go away until we knew what they had decided. But
it couldn’t be much longer now; it had already been over an
hour.