Top Love: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (Young Adult Stepbrother and Billionaire Romance Stories) (29 page)

I went and saw Renee over coffee, as she seemed intrigued by my personal narrative of him, and since Alfred wasn’t talking to me I guess I had no reason to avoid talking to the press.  But even while she traded grins with me, the both of us enamored by details of his sordid affairs, I couldn’t help but feel protective of his darkest secrets.  I didn’t want to embarrass him again.  I knew he had already learned his lesson and didn’t deserve any more woman’s scorn—least of all from the woman who couldn’t stop rear-ending his life every time she encountered him.

“How about we play a game of you tell me what you know and I’ll tell you what I know,” I said with a smile.  “I don’t want this to be a tabloid piece.  I just really want to understand his past.”

“I hear you, and people are always saying that I’m trying to embarrass Alfred and that’s not the case at all,” she replied.  “I just think this is what people are interested in.  This is what his fans are interested in.  And call me crazy but if you are a billionaire novelist and everybody knows your name you ARE a public figure by choice.  It’s not like he even used a pen name!”

“Right.  I just don’t want to come across as nasty.  I want to tell the truth.  I really think he is an okay guy, just troubled.”

“Why do you say that?”

I cleared my throat and thought carefully about my next statement.  “Well, I discovered something about a woman named Victoria.”

“Victoria, yes, I did that story already,” she said proudly.  “That was his second wife.”

“He had a first?”

“I believe so, but she is completely off the radar.  He did a good job in making sure no one ever found him.  But Victoria is the woman they say screwed him up the most.”

“Really?  Well I saw that he married and divorced her.”

“Yes, yes she did and that’s public record,” she replied with a head tilt.

“Why?”

“I was hoping you could give me some details on what you found on his computer.”

“Well I found a tribute letter, send to the press.  He was talking about her and her contributions to the community.”

“Hmmm.”

“Oh and I found a love letter he once wrote her.”

“Oh this I got to hear!” she said, shifting in her seat.  “What did it say?”

“It seemed very sad.  Like, he was expressing his love to her but he already knew he was losing her.  Maybe they fell out of love and he was trying to hold on?”

“Hmmm, my guess would be…” she said thoughtfully, looking up and putting her hand to her mouth.  “That she cheated on him.  It would corroborate with another rumor we heard that Ursta, the Southern King from the book, may have been loosely based on the other man in the relationship.”

“Wow, she cheated on him?  That might explain his mistrust of women.”

“Yeah and then she left him, they got divorced and then she…”

“What?”

“Well, I thought you knew…she died.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, that’s what I heard.  He divorced her, but in one of his books he made a dedication to his late wife.”

“Victoria?”

“I think so.  I don’t think he’s ever spoken about Wife number one.  Victoria is the woman behind his madness, guaranteed.  And everybody’s always feeling sorry for him because he’s a widower.  That’s his MO, if you pardon my PI lingo.”

“Wow,” I said, finally feeling compassion for the world’s rudest and richest man.  “So he had his heart broken and can’t trust anyone.  That’s what makes for a night of one night stands.”

“Yes.  Speaking of which, how was it?” Renee asked with beady, smiling eyes.

“You mean…?”

“Yeah,” she said with a grin.  “Was he gentle?  Attentive?”

I stared.

“Rough?  A sadist?  I’ve heard rumors.”

“He likes being in charge, I can say that.”

Renee cackled and tapped her fingers on the table, almost spilling her third cup of coffee.  “Yeah, he’s a freak.  That’s what they say.  I can see the headline now… Alfred Banes BDSM Master with his own SEX DUNGEON!”

She laughed hard and I joined her, until the idea suddenly seemed coarse to me.  “Well, isn’t that a bit harsh?”

“I’m just kidding, darling.  I’m not going to be sensational about it,” she said with a nod, probably crossing her fingers out of view.

The meeting with Renee didn’t reveal too much information about Veronica, only a loft of hearsay.  The curiosity was killing the cat in me and I had to know the story—how it ended, even if our relationship wasn’t meant to be. 

Alfred was still sore about my peeking so I wasn’t going to wait for him to call or buy out the store again, this time I felt I owed him an honest apology.  He set the example by apologizing for his stunt.  I wanted to do the same.  Maybe this would make us even.

“What, are you here with the NSA?” he said bitterly, holding his door half open.

“Ooh, right in the heart!”

He stared me down and sighed.

“I’m sorry.  I came here to apologize.  It wasn’t very nice of me to disrespect you like that.  I won’t pry again.  I hope you can forgive me.  Mister Banes.”

I smiled and he shrugged. 

“I’m glad you said that.  I’m not sure how I feel about you yet, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Do you understand where I’m coming from?”

He sighed again but this time, it seemed as if he crossed a mental bridge.  “Come inside.”

I hesitated until he motioned with his head, then followed him down to the living room.  No laptop in sight this time, for obvious reasons.

“I’m sorry that I pried.  But I feel hurt for you.  I think you’ve suffered a lot but you don’t understand that.  And you don’t know how to express yourself.”

“Hmmm,” he said with a head shake.

“We all have secrets in our past.  Stuff we can’t change.”

“I don’t want to talk about the past,” he said firmly, meeting my eyes.

“Does it hurt?”

“It’s not appropriate.  I don’t enjoy it.  It’s not going to get you anywhere.”

“What do you mean?  You think I’m trying to get somewhere with you?  I’m here as a friend, Alfie.  I want to help you.  Am I crazy for wanting to help you find peace?”

“Peace?  As in, peace of mind?” he said, provoked and clenching his fists.  “Peace of mind is distraction.  Hey, here’s an idea.  Let’s fly to China or Ireland and start fucking doing something exciting.  THAT’S what I want to hear from you.  I don’t find moping around about the past interesting at all.”

“That’s what you want to hear from me?  So I’m a lovely distraction to you?  But nothing real?”

“Who says you’re lovely?”

I dropped my face and stared him down for that one.  “You know there’s no need to be an asshole every second of every day.”

He broke eye contact and looked down, probably surprised that I didn’t let that one slide. 

“You know?  You’re right,” he said.  “Let’s just put this behind us.  You want to go out to a movie or something?”

“Why are you always trying to escape the past?  Normal people, Alfie, don’t run from the past.  They learn from it.  They are okay talking about it.  This is what I’m saying.  I don’t think that you’ve grieved.  You can’t let it go.”

“You’re beautiful,” he said, staring into my eyes.

“No.  I want to hear you say her name.”

He pouted and turned away. 

“You’re a strong guy, Alfie.  Be a man and admit what has happened.”

“Be a man?” he said, meeting my eyes and sizzling.  “Why don’t you be a woman, then?  Take off your clothes and let me see every inch of your body.”

I shook my head, phased but, not speechless.  “No.  You can’t push me away this time.”

“You want honesty?  I desire you, Barbara.  I don’t love you, but I want desperately to fuck you.  I want to wake up on your breasts every morning and fall asleep on your belly.”

“You’re just saying that to be nice,” I said, cracking a smile.

“No, not at all.  I’m not nice.  But I feel a strong attraction to you, physical nothing more.  And every time I smell you, every time I see you walking around in clothes a primal urge takes over and I want to rip your clothes to shreds and fill every orifice.  I don’t want your permission.  I just need you to take the punishment.  I want to claim my territory and make you scream—make you worship my name.”

I finally broke eye contact and flinched looking down then up, trying hard to think of something snappy to that attitude but having nothing but drool. 

“Well…”

“Oh.  Excuse me,” he retorted.  “Was that too much honesty for you?  Since you know, you care so much about the past.”  A gaze of anger shot across his face and his eyes seemed to conflagrate.  “Well, you want to talk about the past?  Yes, let’s go there.  Let’s talk about that phase I went through, where we all just fucked like bunnies and got high every day of every week.  Let’s talk about submission.  Let’s talk about how I treated my slave girl.”

“Say what?”

“You heard me.  You DO want to talk about the past, right?  It’s just so goddamned interesting.”

He walked towards me in aggression and I took a few steps back, afraid of his energy but still intrigued by his hypnotic voice.

“If you only knew, Barbara, what I did to those women.  What I could do to you.  I could train you so well.  I could have full control of your mind and make…you…do…anything.”

I took a gulp, sort of getting his hints and yet afraid to ask for clarification.  He was right.  I way underestimated his sordid past.  It was much more complicated than I ever imagined.  He was royally fucked up, and that’s what he was trying to tell me.  Don’t bring it up.  Don’t ask questions that you don’t want the answer to.

I nodded softly, ashamed to look him in the eye after that confession.  I was tired of being a source of stress for this poor fellow, who was denied the love he needed so badly time and time again. 

Then like a sudden bolt of lightning, a dangerous idea struck me.  “Okay.  I’ll tell you what.  You’re all about sex.  I get it.  That’s your way of coping.  I’m all about talking feelings out.  So we trade.”

He looked intrigued, folding his arms and pressing his index finger to his lip. 

“What?”

“The deal is you get to do what you said to me.  You can have sex with me.  But in exchange for that power, I get total honesty from you.  No, I CONTROL your honesty.  I make the rules.  You tell me everything.”

He flinched at the idea and struggled to understand…before slowly nodding.  “So you do anything I tell you.  And then you ask me anything?”

“And you tell me.  No lies.”

“I don’t lie.  But is that the deal?”

I thought it over again, making sure my own boundaries were set and that I could emotionally—and physically—handle whatever ideas he came up with. 

“Yes.”

“Then I accept it,” he said, moving closer to me and staring into my sensitive soul, desiring my body fully, while I craved his thoughts, his stories and his trapped feelings.  We both seemed excited at the prospect.  It was taboo, just as much for me.  Sex was all well and good but penetrating a man’s mind—especially when he fought so hard to keep it inside—felt vulgar, it felt cathartic.  It was as if I was going to discover the formula for the billion dollar genius. 

“Before we start,” he said carefully, minus any leering or taunting—just perfectly controlled.  “Let’s set the rules.”

“There are no rules.”

“Yes, there are.  There have to be.”

“Okay?”

“Whatever I say goes.  You don’t question me.  I require full and absolute trust from you.  I won’t ask you to do anything that I don’t feel you can handle.”

“Deal.  But…what if I get scared?”

“Then you face your fears.”

“But…”

“You want me to trust you with my secrets.  Then I require the same trust from you.  That I won’t do anything to hurt you.”

Finally, I got the point.  It wasn’t just about sex with him.  It was about everything sex represented in his mind. 

              “I will give you one chance.  If you get scared and need to leave, then all you have to do is say the word.  I will assign you a word.  All you have to do is say the word and I will stop.  But understand, Barbara, if you say it…that’s it.  No more of this back and forth, apology and apology.  If you decide to end this now, right NOW, when you finally have my full attention…then it’s over.  For good.”

“I accept the rules, Alfie.  What is the word?”

“The word is MoonLike.  That is all I will ever say of it again.  Don’t ever speak it unless this is really goodbye.”

“Okay,” I said bravely looking him in the face, my pulse already racing at the threat ahead.  “Who goes first?”

“Me.  I go first,” he replied quickly.  “I’m going to undress you now.  You don’t speak unless I ask a question.  Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yes, sir!” I said with a half smile.

“Don’t smile.  I didn’t say you could do that.”