The Billionaire's Curvy Conquest - Complete (11 page)

This is what I knew for sure about the night in question:

• Mr. Reed had brought me to his home for an amazing evening of incredible sex
  
• He had me arrive through the servant’s entrance, presumably for discretion, but depart through the front door
  
• At the time, this did strike me as odd, but when I mentioned it, he explained it away
  
• He also made sure that my coat was left open, revealing what I was wearing underneath
  
• In retrospect, he obviously knew that Bill Blaine would be waiting in the shadows, camera in hand, ready to snap my picture in time to make the morning headlines
  

This scenario covered the who, what, where and when. All that remained was the why.

Why would Mr. Reed do such a thing?

None of the possibilities I came up with made sense. He wasn’t an adrenalin junkie who would do something like this just for the thrill of it, and he clearly wasn’t trying to ruin my reputation since he basically rescued me from that very thing.

If he had wanted to take our arrangement public, all he would have needed to do was ask. Fake girlfriend, real girlfriend, I wouldn’t have cared as long as we were together. I was clearly missing something that I wouldn’t find on the Internet.

After putting 2+2 together, I should have been outraged and insulted. Instead, I was more curious than mad.

The old me – Cassie James, administrative assistant – would have marched up to David Reed’s office and demanded answers. Or, if I was being honest, maybe she would have tip-toed into human resources and given her two weeks’ notice.

The new me – Cassie James, Personal Communications Specialist and David Reed’s pretend girlfriend – had learned a thing or two from her billionaire boss about keeping secrets.

The scandal was a setup, just like our fake relationship. Which brought me back to the question of: Why?

Either he needed a reason to take our relationship public or this was just another calculated move in the game he was playing. Until I figured out what he was up to, I would keep what I had discovered to myself.

After all, I had some reading to do.

On the bottom of the mail pile was an envelope from Mr. Reed. Stamped across the front, in bold red letters, were two words that made me tingle all over: CONFIDENTIAL MEMO.

~*~*~

“D
on’t think, my sweet, curvy Cassie. Close your eyes and simply feel.”

T
hrough hazy pain, I heard the knock on my door and managed to call out a ragged, “It’s open.”

My eyes were closed and I smelled Mr. Reed’s delicious cologne even before I sensed him standing over me in my small apartment.

“I’m not amused, Miss James,” he said. He sounded annoyed. “You’re not even showered and dressed. Where are your bags? I realize that we’ll be taking my private jet to the Caribbean, but flight plans still need to be submitted and followed. Now is not the time for tardiness. Or games.”

A wave of pain pierced my abdomen and I moaned, but not in the sexy way that Mr. Reed liked.

While staying curled up in a fetal position, I leaned over the side of the couch and dry-heaved into the bucket next to me. After several hours of pain, nausea and vomiting, there was nothing left in my stomach to throw up.

“You’re ill,” he said.

If I wasn’t in so much pain I would have said something snarky, like:
No shit, Sherlock
.

He sat down on the edge of the couch and I felt his hand on my sweaty forehead. “You’re quite warm, Miss James.”

Another
no shit
moment for my dominating, billionaire boss, David Reed.

I knew that comforting sick people wasn’t something he did very often. Or ever.  But, really?

That’s all he could think of to say?

You’re quite warm, Miss James.

I’m pretty sure I had passed
quite warm
three or four hours ago and was sitting solidly in the
burning up
zone. I had tried taking some aspirin to lower my temperature, but the small, white pills had come right back up.

I had been fine at work yesterday and while finishing up my shopping for our trip. But shortly after grabbing a quick bite to eat before packing, my stomach had started bothering me. When I threw up my dinner, I wondered if I had gotten food poisoning.

As the evening wore on, the pain in my gut worsened and my thinking got cloudier.

At some point, I thought about calling my mom, but I didn’t want to worry her. Besides, Mr. Reed and I were heading to the Caribbean the next day. He was picking me up at noon. If my mom was here, that would be kind of awkward.

Clearly, my judgement was just as cloudy as my ability to think.

I clutched my stomach as another wave of pain and nausea washed over me.

“Where does it hurt, Cassie?” Mr. Reed asked.

This time, his voice was gentle. And I knew by the use of my first name that he was really, truly concerned. The only time he called me Cassie was when his emotions were running high.

Like in the middle of mind-blowing sex.

Without opening my eyes, I pointed to my stomach before leaning over and dry-heaving again.

Mr. Reed got up from the couch and I had a moment of panic. “Please don’t leave me,” I whispered.

His fingers caressed my cheek and he brushed the sweat-matted hair from my eyes. “Never, my sweet. I’m going to call an ambulance. We need to get you to the hospital.”

My feverish mind drifted while Mr. Reed talked on his phone.

I thought about our fake relationship, which was becoming more real to me every day.

I thought about our amazing night together in his penthouse apartment.

I thought about Mr. Reed’s secrets.

And I thought about the recent confidential memo he had left me that had stopped me from confronting him about those secrets.

I had memorized this memo, just like the ones before it.

~~~

T
o keep up appearances, I’ve planned a romantic get-away to a private island resort in the Caribbean. It’s so private that even the paparazzi won’t be able to reach us.

If you’re naughty, there will be no one to hear your cries of passion when I punish you.

For the record, Miss James, I expect you to be extremely naughty.

~~~

W
ith those first few lines of his memo, Mr. Reed had me both intrigued and aroused. He was taking me on vacation to somewhere private? Where we could have sex any time of the day or night – without the distractions of work?

I couldn’t wait, and was already thinking up ways to earn Mr. Reed’s very special punishment!

~~~

Y
ou will need to purchase resort attire, of course. I prefer dresses.

Without undergarments.

I want to see your nipples stiffen against the fabric of your dress when I inadvertently brush my arm against your breasts, or when the breeze incidentally caresses your skin.

I want to know that, whether we’re lounging or dining or simply taking a walk, there is nothing between your soft, creamy thighs except warm, salty air.

I want to know that, if I were to place my hand on your knee at lunch, and let my fingers dance up your smooth skin, they could slip, unrestricted, between your plump lips to tease your slick folds.

I want to know that, if I were to circle your clit ever-so-slowly, you could spread your legs wide to writhe against my fingers as they bring you to climax while waiting for the next course of our meal to be served.

~~~

T
he first time I read his words (and every time since) they had made me dripping wet. They had also made me consider wearing dresses without panties every day for the rest of my life!

~~~

W
e will be swimming, Miss James. Feel free to purchase a bathing suit; although once we reach the island, you won’t need it.

I can’t wait to watch your luscious curves, naked and glistening, as they shimmer beneath the blue-green waters of the sea.

~~~

T
he truth was, I couldn’t wait to see his chiseled muscles, naked and glistening, as they shimmered beneath the blue-green waters of the sea!

Even though he was 42 years old, Mr. Reed had a magnificent physique. He was strong, fit and blessed with a long, thick cock that felt incredible buried inside of me.

~~~

“H
elp is on the way, Cassie.”

Mr. Reed’s voice broke through my feverish delirium, bringing me back to the present moment and the excruciating pain in my abdomen.

I kind of wished he had let me stay in my dream world.

A world where I wasn’t in pain and we were in a real relationship.

A world where we were planning to go away for sun, skinny dipping and sex.

Lots and lots of sex.

The last things I remember before blacking out were three burly guys lifting my big body off the couch, strapping me onto a stretcher and loading me into an ambulance. Mr. Reed climbed in beside me and held my hand as the ambulance raced down the road with sirens screaming.

One of the guys injected something into my arm that took the edge off my pain and made me feel like I was floating somewhere between the harshness of reality and my sexy dream world. Within the safety of my dreams, I told Mr. Reed that I loved him and he said, “I love you, too, my sweet.”

My mind drifted again and I wondered if I would ever be brave enough to tell him for real...and, if I did, what his response would actually be.

M
y ability to think woke up before the rest of me. Unable to move, speak or even open my eyes, I felt trapped inside a body that appeared to be paralyzed. The pain in my abdomen told me I wasn’t dead and I guessed that I was in the hospital.

I could tell from the light shining against my closed lids that the room was bright, and if I concentrated really hard, I could hear voices in the background. Some familiar; one unrecognizable.

At least my hearing still worked.

“Her vitals are stable, so our job is to keep her comfortable while we wait,” a quiet male voice was saying. “Some studies suggest that it’s helpful to talk to loved ones when they’re in a coma. Although Cassie may not hear you in the traditional sense, the sound of your voice can be soothing.”

I had been in a
coma
?!

“But doctor, it’s been two days. When will she wake up?” I heard my mom ask, her voice soft.

‘I’m awake now, mom!’
I wanted to cry. But the words wouldn’t come out.

“It’s hard to say,” the male voice responded. “With close calls like this, it can sometimes take weeks for patients to regain consciousness. For now, it’s a waiting game. “

Close calls like this? What had happened to me?

The last thing I remembered was being hauled off in an ambulance and being given something wonderful to ease my pain.

“Mr. and Mrs. James, the two of you need some rest. Since you refuse to go home, I’ve taken the liberty of reserving a room for you at the boutique hotel next door.  The room and any charges will be taken care of by my company.”

That voice of authority belonged to Mr. Reed.

“That’s very thoughtful. But if Cassie wakes up, I don’t want her to be alone,” my mom responded.

“You have my word that I won’t leave her side until you or Mr. James returns,” Mr. Reed said. “And if anything changes, I’ll give you a call.”

“It’s time for Miss James’ next dose of pain medication,” a cheery female voice interjected. I felt a slight tug on my unmovable arm followed by that wonderful floating feeling.

“As you can see, Mr. and Mrs. James, your daughter is in very capable hands.”

After that, I must have passed out, probably from the pain medication. The next time I woke up, I was still unable to move. The light was dimmer now and the room was quiet, although I knew Mr. Reed was in there with me.

I could smell his cologne.

I felt warm skin on my cool hand, and long, strong fingers lace through my shorter, stubbier ones. I wanted to squeeze the hand holding mine – Mr. Reed’s hand – but my muscles wouldn’t cooperate.

“Please wake up, Miss James. There is much that we need to discuss.” His voice sounded tired and ragged. “Your career at Reed Technologies. The research you did while I was in New York. The future of our relationship.”

Did he know about my visit to Gladys, and that I had made the connection between the photographer he had hired and my picture in the Post? If so, was he going to fire me for snooping?

“I have a confession to make, my sweet.”

I knew Mr. Reed had secrets. Now he had a confession?

“I regret not making my intentions clear from the start.”

Intentions? What intentions?

“Our first encounter took me by surprise, you see. I must admit that I wasn’t quite prepared for the depth of desire I would have for you...or just how willing you would be to submit to my demands.”

Don’t you know by now that I would do anything for you, Mr. Reed?

“You made things very easy for me. Too easy, perhaps. Then again, your unwavering devotion is part of your allure.”