Top Love: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (Young Adult Stepbrother and Billionaire Romance Stories) (30 page)

“Um…”

“I didn’t give you permission to speak.  What do you say?”

“Sorry?”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

He looked at me closely and then moved his hands up to my face.  He caressed my skin from my cheeks to my neck and then down to my shoulders.

“Describe to me how you feel.”

“Honestly?”

“Don’t ask a question.  Answer with a statement.”

“I feel…a little nervous.”

“You’re going to learn to trust me.”

“Yes, I know.”

He pulled my scoop neckline dress up, bringing the sleeves to my elbows and then my hands, leaving me cold and self-conscious as he tossed my shirt aside.  I wore a push up lace white bra, for no particular reason…but I always do entertain the possibility in my mind.  What if he asked me to take my clothes off again?  Would I be ready?  I’d like to think that I would be…that I would give him the show he desires.

He put his hands on my breasts, feeling them through the material and eyeing me for a response.  “I like touching you where you’re most sensitive.”

I said nothing but felt the sensation deeply—he caressed my breasts rubbing the flesh then tickling my nipples carefully.  “Yes.”

“How do you feel when I use you for your body?”

I double-flinched.  I had no choice but to speak the truth.  “It…turns me on.”

“Are you ashamed of that?”

“A little bit.”

“Don’t be.  From now on, I tell you when you feel turned on.  I give you permission to be used and to have your body fondled.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Turn around.”

“Yes…” I said, turning around slowly and feeling his eyes all over me.

“From now on, Barbara, I decide what words are okay and what words are not okay.  Understand?”

“Yes.”

He unhooked my bra and slowly pulled it off, leaving my breasts free, my nipples hardening at the thought of losing all control.  I couldn’t object.  As the night went on, I had no choice but to give him whatever he asked… or end this attraction forever.

Slowly and with every new experience I was starting to open up to Alfred’s sex life. Trying to understand his way of having sex and pleasure in a completely different way than I was used to. Every time that I was with him I breached a new limit and reached a new high.

Finally, several moments later, when we were both exhausted and relaxed after a post orgasmic state he said “Okay.  It’s your turn.”

“I loved Victoria.  More than I ever loved any woman.  She treated me like shit for my whole life.  It took me…so many years just to accept that.  After so many damned wasted years of making excuses for her.  She’s no longer with us.  And yes, I think of her every day, every hour.  Some memories just don’t go away.”

I listened in wonder, finally, for once an honest answer.  I was starting to like this trade off as it seemed to satisfy everything inside of me at once.  The mature woman wanting to love, and the little slut wanting a spanking.  Whatever this madness was it felt right.

“What do you want to say to Victoria?”

It caught him by surprise.  For a moment, it seemed as if he might call the whole arrangement off.  But he had no special word.  He just had vulnerability.  We both lost something.  We both gained something monumental.

“If you want to, you can write it.”

“…Yes.  I think I prefer that.  But I’ll do it.  I trust you.”

I let Alfie shower, while I took my own, making full use of his multiple bathrooms.  Then he came out, shirtless, toweled and ready, holding a flash drive and looking for his laptop.  “I did what you asked.”

“Good boy,” I said, teasing him, knowing this was technically my turn and not his. 

“You want me to read it aloud?”

“It’s up to you, Alfie.  You know what needs to be done more than I do.  You just can’t admit it.”

He looked at me and nodded.  He began reading aloud his most guarded thoughts, the secrets he thought were locked away for all time, but were just now coming to light.

“Victoria, I know you are gone for good.  I know there is no us anymore.  I know you’re in the distant past.  But I still think of you in the present.  In the future.  You know I can’t forget you.  Everything we suffered was for a reason, wasn’t it?  To forget the past is to forget the lessons life taught us.  I believe you once told me that.

But maybe…maybe I don’t have to forget you.  Maybe the only challenge left is forgiving myself for what you did to me.  Forgiving the hate in my own heart.  And burying you in a spirit of love, not hate.

It won’t be easy but anything is possible so as long as I trust my friend.  The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.  The kind that makes me lose control of myself.  The kind of woman that heals the heart.

I almost cried tears of joy as he confessed his feelings for me.  Imagine that, something more than a fling, more than a slave girl, or whatever role he had in mind.  I meant something to him.  The trade worked! 

We hugged for a long and genuine moment.  Then we kissed and fucked again.  There was no stopping us that night, that special night where we finally figured out what was so damned confusing about our relationship and why we both kept finding reasons to defy logic and give each other another chance.

That reason was simple—we both hated thinking.  We both wanted to feel something and not think.  That was total honesty.  We forced each other to be honest.  Even when it hurt.  Even when it was unbearable.  And the end result was a catharsis of tears, pain and something close to love.

Maybe I’m the woman for Alfie because I’m the only one strong enough to play his games and see him for who he truly is, the wizard behind all of his novel characters. 

Well, that sounds all well and good and for a whole day I really believed that bit.  I was feeling quite high and mighty, thinking I landed myself a billionaire and found a really intense lover to boot.  It could only go downhill from this point, right?  Or was my love life merely going to stabilize?  Was I really training him just like he was training me?

I got the answer in a most unceremonious way, while meeting Renee the reporter again and spilling a few secrets here and there, protecting Alfie as always, and not giving her much to spin.

But what Renee said next shocked me and seemed to instantly deconstruct all these wonderful synapses I was creating from my victory over the male ego.

“So…I found out something peculiar about our mutual friend.”

“Somehow, I doubt it’s true.  I really think the press exaggerates these stories about him.”

“Well…”

“It’s almost like we all want someone like Alfred in our lives so we create all these fantasies of what he must be like.  When the truth is…he’s just a regular guy.”

“Sounds like you’re falling for him.  Have you two gotten kinkier in your discovery phase?” she said with a smirk.

“It’s not that.  I may have feelings for him, but…”

“Honey, listen.  You’re not going to like this.  You might want to order a shot of something.”

“Oh, I’ve heard it all before,” I said, shaking my head.

“Well, I did some investigating.  And something you said made me question the reports we read on Victoria Banes.  Turns out, it is somewhat of an urban legend started by Alfred himself.  He’s the one that kept alluding to her death in his tributes, in his books, and even in some interviews.  But according to public records, she’s still alive.”

No!  No, it can’t be, I thought.  He lied.  He broke the one promise, the one promise we made to each other!  I slumped down in my chair, feeling like an extraordinary fool that I really thought I had won.  In all my naiveté, I thought that I had done the unthinkable.  But then, like a slap to the face—reality, the reality of wealth and how it can never possibly mingle with the commoners—struck me.

“But…how can that be.  She’s dead.”

“No, I’m sorry.  It looks like Alfred has thrown us yet another plot twist in his sordid personal life.”

I was too deprived of will to cry.  All that wasted emotion, all that sense of hope and idealism, none of it was real.  Yeah, I guess I owed him at least one more confrontation before I fucking yelled “MoonLike” at his face and slapped him a good one.  But nothing could erase that bitter taste in my mouth, that whiff of tragedy, that stench of a lie.  

Maybe that’s the biggest secret of all.  There is no constant truth with a man like Alfie…no, one Mister Alfred Banes, the great illusionist…

There is no sting greater than the realization that your life doesn’t matter.  Worse yet, that your life actually costs people.  Your life puts society in the red.  Your life is pointless and a debit to the Alfred Banes and other billionaire playboys of the world.  That’s how I felt the day—no, the second that I discovered that Alfred Banes was not, in fact, a widower, but a liar.  His ex-wife was still very much alive and he was milking that sob story that she died for everything it was worth.

I didn’t want to deal with Alfred and his wordplay so I decided to go straight to the source—another woman who had seen the real Alfred and lived to tell about it.  Maybe she wouldn’t be objective, but at least she wouldn’t be another fawning, billionaire-worshiping sycophant like everyone else—and especially Alfred himself.

Victoria was her name and no one seemed to know anything about her, except that Alfred considered her dead but public records begged to differ.  I took a day off work and researched everything I could about Victoria.  She still lived within the state but had settled in several counties away from Alfred, in a small community called Whitriff. 

              Her residential address was in a somewhat affluent community and had two stories as most homes in this neighborhood were.  She must have received quite the settlement from Banes, maybe even after his first bestseller.

Everything about the home seemed kind, white with some sprinkles of yellow, red and orange florals—indeed, the color of a happy woman.  She didn’t change her name from Banes’ surname so apparently Victoria was still happily single.  Or still happily in love with him?

I knocked on the door, not quite sure what to expect. 

I was taken aback when I first saw Victoria come out.  She was average sized, not tall or intimidating, and not even what I would call drop dead gorgeous.  Banes, despite being the womanizer of all time, still didn’t seem to go for the Hollywood type, at least not in long-term relationships.

Victoria seemed bothered by the sun and a bit nervous.  “Yes?  What?  What’s happened?”

“Hi, I’m Barbara.  Uh…it’s nothing bad.  I just wanted to know if you had a few moments to talk.”

“Talk?  About what?” she asked suspiciously.

“Well…I’m just going to come out and say it.  I thought you were dead.  I’m very surprised to find you alive.  Ms. Banes.”

“Oh…I see.”  She stared at me straightly, sizing me up as a possible competitor, someone who knew her former husband as intimately as a book.  “Well, come inside.”

She made us coffee and was surprisingly laid back, once finding out that I was here on the most unpleasant of business errands—discussing her former life.  We sat down on the living room couch and talked naturally, as if we were old friends ourselves.  She didn’t seem bitter, oddly enough.  Nor did she seem particularly bothered about remembering the past.  However, her words were definitely acidic and unforgiving.

“So you’ve seen my husband at his best, have you Barbara?” she said with a half-smile.

“Uh, your ex-husband.  We’ve had what I guess you might call a volatile relationship.  And when I found out that you were still alive, I just…I was blown away.  You know he wants everyone to think you’re dead.”

“I know.  Believe me, I know,” she said with a smile.  “That’s just his way.  That’s what powerful men do.  You don’t die when your body gives out.  You die when they decide that you don’t matter anymore.”  She laughed quietly.  “He decided a long time ago that I served my purpose.  And after that, I was dead to him.”

“Wow.  So I guess the divorce was one-sided?”

“Well, of course we all make mistakes.  But I think that Alfred, or Alfie as he likes women to call him, is an emotional abuser.”

“Really?  Why?”

“Does he scream at you?  Does he swear and break things like he did when living with me?”

I hesitated to answer.  He did seem to be an asshole on occasion, but I couldn’t say that he ever “acted out.”  I felt stunned at the accusation. 

“Well, no.  I don’t think he’s ever done anything like that.”

“Ah, so you must be in what I call the Honeymoon Phase.  Yes, that’s always nice,” she said with a head shake.  “He seems interested in you but then suddenly decides you’re not right for him.  Right?  Yeah that sounds like one of his plays all right.”

She lost her smile and stared me in the face.  “But I’m telling you, kid.  For your own good, get out while you can.”

“But…why?”

“Well, didn’t he lie to you about me?  About me being dead?”

“I guess so.  Or at least he wanted me to believe the lie.”

“It’s the same thing as lying,” she said strongly.  “And it WILL get worse.  Every month you keep up this game with him.  He escalates the situation.  He makes you feel like shit so that you can’t leave.”

I felt broken inside.  She sounded truthful.  The maturity and intellect that I thought I found in Alfie…maybe all of it was a lie.  Maybe he really was a monster.

“He’s very good at painting himself to be a hero,” she said with a bitter and protruding lower lip.  “He always makes it seem like his wife deserted him.  Or that these girls just use him for his money.  But I tell you this…EVERYTHING the man says is a lie.  How can you live with someone…how can you ever win with someone like that?”

“So you left him first?  And that’s why he hates you?”

“Yes.  I’m sure he goes around telling everyone that I cheated on him.  But it’s not true.  The truth is, I was just so tired, Barbara.  So tired of dealing him and my life revolving around him like a moon.  I just got so tired.  And one day I woke up and said… ‘I have nothing left to give.’”

She stared at me sadly, as if communicating a profound thought—perhaps a feeling that I would be facing in the near future.

“And so I left him.  And he exploded.  He ravaged me in the press, saying that I cheated on him.  And that I was doing drugs.  And all this nonsense.  And then he ‘killed me off’ with that book tribute bullshit.  Just to get sympathy.”

She put her hand through her hair and sighed.  “I was tired of playing all of his mind games.  It’s fun when we’re in our twenties or teens.  But as the years pass, it just gets to be too much, you know?  Mark my words, the man is a master manipulator.  He will use you and then dump you the second you stop being useful to him.”  

Her words echoed in my mind, even when I tried to suppress them, feigning interest in Alfred Banes, as we went on one of our few “official dates.”  Perhaps he could sense that I was distracted because all through dinner he seem unusually focused, atypically interested in keeping my attention.

I tried to pretend as if nothing was wrong, but I suppose it’s in a man’s nature to pick up on the scent of doubt.  I looked into his eyes.  I smiled.  But even I couldn’t pretend as if I hadn’t heard the bombshell.  He wasn’t married, exactly, but he had marital baggage all right.  A trail of unhappy women, including a wife that could easily still be in love with him.

He stared at me a couple of times, in uneasiness, as if he were seeing through me, or dare I say even reading my mind.  The real question, I know, I know, is why did I see him again?  Why did I agree to go out with him and pretend that this was still fun, when I was horrified inside?  Why didn’t I tell him right away that I discovered his lie?

My mind started to panic.  Was the lie really more interesting than the truth?  Was I more attracted to him knowing that he was a fucked up, dangerous guy?  Or did I just tolerate his dark side because there was so much of him to love?

It had to be more than that. 

I wore red that night, a form fitting midi dress with cutouts on the sides and back.  Something elegant, something out of the ordinary.  I wasn’t sure why I dressed up that way.  Maybe I was waiting for a moment for Alfred to become mushy before I slapped him with the truth.  Maybe I wanted to look extra good so that it would burn that badly.

But all Alfred saw in my choice of clothing was a call to action.  Eventually he stopped trying to engage me in conversation and instead, just leered at me.  Making love to me with his eyes, and letting me feel his palpable desire.  I tried to ignore him at first, or even play a little cold.  But as I tried to leave him guessing, I found myself unable to resist his attention. 

He dropped me off at home and I exited the car to my house, not bothering to give him a good goodbye.  I hollered out as I walked through my parking lot in a hurry. 

“Thanks.  See you later.”  I rushed to the front door, all too aware that he wasn’t done yet.  He got out of the driver’s side and took his time walking to meet me.

“Thanks for walking me home.”  I looked through my purse for the keys and tried with all my might to stay distant. 

But he wasn’t having it.  He boldly put his hands on my hips and back.

“Ah,” I giggled.  “Here they are.  Okay, well, I’ll see you later.”

“You’re going to see me later.  And see me now.  You’re going to see all of me.  And I’ll see all of you.  Won’t I, Barb?”

He reached around my back with his hands and unzipped by dress—right there on the porch!

“Wh-What are you doing?”

“I think you know.  I think you’re lying to yourself.  Telling yourself you don’t want me.  But you know that’s not true.”

I hated him.  But God, I desired him.  The fact that he didn’t even give a shit about my bad mood should have been vexing me. 

I opened the door quickly and entered, second-guessing whether I should slam it shut on his face.  I couldn’t.  I looked him in the eyes and tried to say something.  Tried to break up with him, or even say “You lying bastard!”—God, I so tried.

But without even asking, he took me to the wall of my own apartment and pinned me hard, pulling the top of my dress off and putting his hands on my breasts.  This is what he was thinking of doing to me all night—even when I was sitting there, cold as ice and hating him.

Fuck you, that’s what I felt like telling him.  I looked into his eyes and I gave him a look of shame, a look of judgment—that I knew his secret. 

How could I feel so intimate and so connected with a man I didn’t even know?  A man I didn’t trust but still craved so insatiably?  Maybe the key was not thinking about it.  Just letting it happen.  But no, in a moment I realized that I couldn’t do that and I needed to stop him.

“I know your ex-wife is still alive.” I yelled. 

He stopped touching me and for a moment, he was surprised and stunned.

After several wordless moments, Alfred finally reacted and wasn’t too thrilled.  “What?  Why, did you go looking for her?”

“No.  I just discovered it.  Public records don’t lie.”

“And did you talk to her?”

“No.  Why, does it matter?”  I pulled my panty string back to its rightful place and covered my nakedness with half my dress.  “I’m more curious as to why you lied to me.  To everybody.  Saying that she’s dead.”

Finally, his casual exhalations became a rising and louder statement.  “Because it’s none of your goddamned business, that’s why.”  He dressed himself quickly and stood up, leaving my eyes and abandoning my face as punishment for a transgression.  “I never told you my wife was legally dead and to check the public records for her name.  I just said she was dead.  She’s dead to me.  That’s all that matters.”

“Just seems like the strangest thing to lie about.”

“And it’s the damndest thing that YOU feel entitled to go snooping into my background.  What the hell, Barbara?  Do I go to your supermarket and spy on you?  So what, you’re entitled to privacy but I’m not?  It’s not even my current life you’re spying on…it’s my fucking past!”

He held his hands in his pockets and sighed, focused only on his own uneven breathing and on an ugly thought that now seemed stuck in his head. 

“Just admit it, you lied!”

“No, I didn’t!” he replied with clenched fists.  “You…you just can’t stop snooping can you?  You are fricking insane, woman!  Goddamn it, I don’t need this.  Now go find yourself a boyfriend that just loves answering questions about every woman he has been with.  I’m sure he’s going to just love that.”

I was too afraid to say anything and watched Alfred storm out of my house, once again, calling me more trouble than I was worth.  It was true.  I did cause a helluva lot of trouble for this guy.  And I didn’t know why exactly he was putting up with me.  Did he really like me and was I constantly testing him?

Or was the truth much less flattering?  Maybe he really was winning at these mind games.  Maybe he was caught in a lie and confronted with buried guilt.  Maybe everything Victoria said was true and maybe I was one of those selfish jerks that just needed to get off one last time before we broke up for good.  I’m not sure what it was all about.  I just know that I didn’t trust Alfred Banes and maybe I was simply treated him the way he deserved to be treated.  A man that couldn’t be upfront with me certainly had no right to demand total honesty.  I owed nothing to him.  Fuck buddies, that’s what we were—and I didn’t want him thinking I needed a damned thing from him anymore.

              Of course, as much as I tried to convince myself that I was winning this game, I still felt compelled to think about him.  I felt guilty and whatever he said or did, it was just perfect.  Because I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and my obsessive mind just kept going over and over the conversation, wondering if I did something wrong.