Billion Dollar Bad Boy (Big City Billionaires #1) (2 page)

Firmly, Betty put her hand on the box. “You opened it.”

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

“You do know that's a crime, ma'am?”

Every inch of my face was glowing. “But—well.”

“
And
you expect me to take it back and magically figure out who it was meant for?”

I was at a loss. Tense as a fishing line, I clenched my hands at my hips. “...Yes?”

Deflating, the postal worker gave me a tired once-over. Then, she pushed the box back to me. “Honey, I don't know what to tell you. I don't have time to play cop
or
investigator. There's no name on here, it was in your mail, you opened it. Just keep the darn thing.”

My mouth was slack. On reflex, I retrieved the package. Betty spared me one more look, then waved over my shoulder. “Next in line.”

In a fog, I walked away from the counter. This wasn't how I'd expected things to go. What was I supposed to do with these earrings? Keeping them felt wrong, trashing them—jeez, they probably cost more than six months of my rent.

Amazingly, I found myself in front of my locker again. Peeking at Betty, I was tempted to set the box on the floor. Would this 'Pet' person see it, and know it was meant for her? I didn't know if this was the first gift or the millionth, a box was a box.

Shaking my head, I resolved to think of a new plan. I didn't have one yet, but in time, something would click.

It just had to.

Soothed by my rationalization, I slid my key into my mailbox. I was on autopilot, I checked my mail every morning if work wasn't in the way.

Yes. A new plan. Okay.

The tiny door swung open, hanging on its hinges and revealing the inside of my locker. My lungs hitched, ribs freezing. Everything became a far away dream.

No. Not again.

In front of me sat another box.

****

T
he gifts continued to arrive over the next two weeks.

Nothing I did could get them to stop; not talking to the postal workers, not asking for information on the deliveries, and not waiting around a whole day in my car to try and catch the mysterious S.

I'm not proud of that last one, but it's not like I wasted my
whole
day.

Besides, I had something else to feel guilty over.

I'd opened all of the boxes.

Not at first, no. I'd waited a few days before I cracked, the packages sitting on my kitchen counter. They were like nagging, loose threads on a fancy shirt, just waiting to be yanked.

I looked for ways to justify it, digging deep to wave away the wrongness of opening someone else's mail. I'd asked myself,
What can I do?
Hadn't I tried to make it right?

Gradually, I started looking forward to them. It wasn't even the gifts that excited me, it was those damn letters! They came in every box, always meticulously written and
soaking
with erotic tension.

He'd say things like, “I'm imagining how you'll gasp when I smell this perfume on your throat,” or, “This color will match perfectly with your lips, once they're red and swollen with desire.”

S knew how to keep my attention.

Progressively, the gifts began to get more personal. The earrings were almost innocent when held up against the Jimmy Choo pumps (how did Pet and I wear the same size?) or the Sferra Milos sheets.

Then the lingerie appeared.

As I sat on my couch and lifted the creamy, decadently over-priced bustier, panties, and garter belt—something I'd never even
seen
in person before—into the air, I was stunned. The matching lace-topped hosiery completed the set.

Quickly, I peeled open the letter he'd sent to me—I mean, to Pet.

I had to remind myself of that.

Dear Pet,

I saw this outfit on a mannequin. I knew it would look far better on you.

I'm tempted to give you my phone number, just so you can send me a photo of you wearing the lingerie.

Another time, maybe.

For now, wear it for me, and when you do, I want you to imagine me standing there, watching. Close your eyes and think how wonderful my fingers will feel as they graze across the smooth silk.

How sensitive it will make your skin.

How hard your nipples will become.

It'd take so very little to tempt you further. You'd moan and squirm while I brought you so close to coming. In time, you'd be begging me to get you off.

Wouldn't that be fun?

I'll leave you with that thought.

Next time, my surprise for you will be even more delicious.

—S

I realized I'd been clutching the letter.

My heart was in my throat, swelling beyond belief as the rest of me struggled to figure out how to feel. The letters had always been intense, clearly private, but this... this was straight up obscene!

Shifting on the couch, I shivered at the movement. Reading his words had called up vivid images, setting my skin aflame even under my boring jeans and t-shirt.

Okay. Just take a breath and relax.
Setting the letter down, I glanced immediately at the lingerie. I'd gotten the impression from his writing that S
had
met Pet, but maybe I was wrong. They had to be in contact somehow though, right?

He said she doesn't have his number.

Too much of this was still a mystery.

Part of me was glad he hadn't handed over his phone number. It meant I wasn't tempted to do what he'd said; take a photo in the outfit and—
Stop,
I chastised myself.
You know that's wrong, plus you wouldn't have the guts. Besides, if you had his number, you could finally explain the mix up.

Yes. Of course.

Then everything would go back to normal.

Smoothing my hair back, I sighed.
Boring, but normal.
Why did that feel so depressing suddenly? I wanted to stop the packages, or...

I thought I did.

Peering at the lingerie, I chewed my lip.
This is a dangerous game.
S could be anybody,
Pet
could be anybody. I was getting too deep into their little world, it wasn't meant for me. I should have thrown everything in the trash, or at least never opened the boxes.

Why was resisting so hard?

My heart thumped, and finally, I reached for the bustier.

Under my palms, it was cool and luxurious. Helplessly, I rubbed it on my cheek.
How much did this cost?
I'd never gone inside a fancy lingerie store, just seen the occasional expensive bra while browsing the sale items at my local outlet mall.

As I breathed in the clean scent of the material, I pictured—or tried to picture—this S as he shopped. Had he gone past the display window, then turned back for a closer look? Had he been out deliberately looking for lingerie?

And... and what would it feel like, wearing this? Having him see me in it, aching to touch me while I longed to be touched? A shudder rolled down to my toes.

Standing, I hurried to my bedroom.

Don't do this,
I told myself. It was futile; I already had my jeans around my ankles. Tossing my plain clothes aside, I eagerly slid the bustier over my head. Every place it touched brought bliss. My cells woke with excitement.

Whatever resistance I had vanished. It was as if the lingerie was pouring over my skin, milk into a glass, a thick coating that made my tongue tingle and my eyes flutter. It drifted over my hips, tickling my flesh.

It took me a second or two to figure out the garters, but when I did, I was delighted. They held the lace-topped leggings in place, the silk encasing my thighs tightly. It was an intimate embrace, stroking my arousal.

Peeling the panties upwards, I couldn't help but imagine they were being tugged onto me by someone else. Someone with calm, controlling muscles... someone who knew what he wanted and was determined to show me.

When the panties cupped my pussy, I breathed out sharply. My pulse went into overdrive. I was doing exactly what he'd said. That thrilled me in a way I couldn't describe. I was peering into a perverse new world.

Catching a glimpse of myself in my full-length mirror, I froze.

The person looking back wasn't me. She was elegant, flaring with heat and eager to be touched. This was no shrinking, mousy girl, this...

This is wrong.

Blushing, I hurried to take everything off. I fumbled with the garters, toppling onto my bed in my panic.
Get it all off!
The backs of my eyes throbbed.
Why did I think this was okay?

Every piece of clothing crumpled to the rug. Breathing heavily, I let the clean air rake over my naked skin. I'd been sweating, hot from the inside of my core.

In the mirror, I saw the confusion in my wide eyes. Yes. This girl looked more like me.

Baffled, lost.

Pathetic.

Ruffling my hair, I eyed the outfit as if it was made of acid. It had felt
so good
to wear it, but the fantasy wasn't meant for me. Dipping into this private world that existed between two strangers, it was horrible.

As  I hugged myself tight, flooding with shame over my actions, I couldn't deny the other feeling inside of me. Something crisp and wild that grew day by day.

Even if I knew this was wrong, and even if I admonished myself for going so far...

I anticipated the next gift more than ever.

Alexis

“T
hose are lovely earrings.”

My head snapped up, fingers touching my ears reflexively. Against the soft pads of my fingertips, the silver edges felt like barbed wire.

I knew I shouldn't have worn them, I just... I couldn't resist. I'd gotten so bad at controlling my impulses these days.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, forcing a smile.

The cashier nodded, perhaps noticing my unease—perhaps not. “Where did you get them?”

My heart stopped. “Uh.”
What do I say?
“Well...”
Shit shit shit.
Her question was innocent, but it forced me to remember how awful I was behaving. Where had I gotten these earrings?

I could never explain.

“They were a gift,” I mumbled, face red and hot.

“Oh, lucky you,” she chuckled. “Someone is generous.”

My smile was brittle. “Yeah. Right.”

She finished bagging my groceries, and I was just as quick to pay and leave.

Stupid,
I told myself, tossing the food into my car's backseat.
You should have known better than to wear these out. Or to wear them at all!

Settling into the car, I looked in my rear view mirror. This jewelry, it drew every eye—just like S had said it would. Once upon a time, I hadn't been so nervous about standing out in a crowd. It's funny how things change.

Or what changes us.

Don't think about that. You can't go down that road.

The past is a painful, vulnerable place. I preferred to avoid it.

I started the car, then paused. None of the gifts I kept receiving belonged to me. Never mind how illegal it was that I was opening these packages, what about all the moral codes I was breaking?

Setting my jaw tight, I pulled the earrings off and put them in my cup-holder. Removing them made me feel both lighter... and somehow more deflated.

This has to end. No more playing around.
It didn't matter if I liked the gifts, my reality was clear as ice; none of this generosity was meant for me.

Playing pretend had to end. I couldn't return the gifts, but I didn't have to take them home with me. No one could force me to be involved in this whole mess.

I'm in control of my life. I need to remember that.
I turned my radio up louder. Crushing the wheel, I steered my car towards my house.
I don't have to be so passive!

Yes. I could do this.

I could turn the gifts away.

Who the hell was going to stop me?

I dropped my groceries off at home, checking the time as I did so.
Need to hurry and get to work.
Untangling my hair, I headed into my bedroom to find a change of clothes. Flipping through the racks of basic blouses and pants, I slid the hangers sideways.

In the far corner of my closet, a flash of red called to me. Briefly, I eyed the dresses that hung in the shadows. It was amazing that I had kept those for so long. They were from another time.

Quickly, I snatched  an opal colored blouse and long skirt from the closet. Safe and bland—it was appropriate for my office job. Hoisting the clothing high, I twisted around. My toe caught in the mess on my floor, nearly tripping me.

Scowling, I straightened and eyed my unorganized bedroom. I
really
needed to clean up. Scanning the small space, my attention fell on the full laundry basket, the half-open wardrobe, the cluttered floor.

And then I saw it.

Shivering, I eyeballed the lingerie with both envy and unease. The silky material was flooding me with too many emotions. I couldn't bury the delicious memory from just the other night of how it had felt to wear the outfit.

Inching forward, I hesitated.
No. Don't do this.
My fingers clenched in the air.
Think about what you decided. Did you forget so easily?

Right. My decision.

Gritting my teeth, I snatched up the lingerie with clawed fingers. Then, I stomped out of the room, not slowing until I shoved the beautiful clothing into my kitchen trash. When it was out of my grip, I leaned on the counter, breathing heavily.

I was proud of myself.

I also couldn't shake the cloying sensation that I'd wasted something wonderful.

No.
I lifted my chin high.
This is how it has to be.

Seeing the lingerie had nearly spiraled me into trying it on again. Or, at least, made me want to hide it in my dresser and never lose it.

Pushing a hand to my chest, I endured my throbbing heart. My abrupt laughter startled me.
Am I that worked up over this? I'm ridiculous.
I'd turned a small problem into a huge deal.

My mother would have called me dramatic.

And maybe she'd have been right.