Page 2 of The Billionaire Submissive
“That’ll be all, Andy. Thanks.”
Andy stood, but didn’t rush toward the door. “Sir?”
Surprised, Donovan raised his gaze to the man’s face. “Yes?”
“She seems like a real nice lady. I mean, despite… She’s nice.” At the skeptical look that must be on his face, Andy hurried to explain. “I always like to run in to the person I’m investigating in some part of their everyday routine, just to see how they respond. She’s polite and well mannered. She spoke to me, she didn’t give me the brush off. She wasn’t rude. She has some kind of mutt she must love a great deal because she takes him for a long walk every single day. All her neighbors speak well of her.”
“What’s your point?”
Andy’s cheeks flushed and he stuttered but he didn’t drop his gaze. “I don’t know what your intentions are and, frankly, it’s none of my business. I just wanted you to know she’s not some skank looking to make a quick buck or a gold-digging bitch out to screw every lying bastard out of his money. She’s nice. I’d like to be her friend and I don’t say that about many people.”
Donovan wanted to ask if he qualified as someone Andy would want to have as a friend, but he already knew the answer. He was the boss man, the hard ass who made the money and paid the lawyers to screw everyone until they got the best deal.Even I wouldn’t want to be my friend.
He spun his office chair around to look out the window. Cold, so cold and numb and hard. He was tempted to strip out of his Armani suit and stretch out in the sunlight shining in through his window. Maybe he’d thaw out.
Nope, he’d tried that already. All it did was first give him a miserable sunburn in some unspeakable places, and then eventually tan him as dark as island native. He was still so numb he couldn’t feel a thing. “I don’t need a friend, but I’ll keep that in mind.”
Andy didn’t say anything else but took the opportunity to escape.
No, what I need…
Donovan used his reflection in the glass to straighten his already perfect tie. His next business meeting might actually be one of the most important of his life.
The reason Andy hadn’t been able to find anything to connect Lilly to the men is that he’d failed to make the connection to the local BDSM community, probably because she’d been out of “circulation” for a few years. That was actually good. Donovan didn’t want anyone to be able to connect her to the underworld of sexual deviants like him.
What I need is absolute secrecy. And Mistress L.
Standing outside the seventeen-story building on busy Kellogg Boulevard, Lilly almost changed her mind and went home. Sure, this was an old building and not one of those modernized shiny steel and concrete skyscrapers, but she still didn’t quite believe someone in downtown St. Paul would honestly be interested in a stained glass commission from a relative nobody like her. The building had once been the St. Paul Post Office and had sat vacant for years while sale after sale fell through. Then billionaire investor Donovan Morgan had swept in and bought the building at a bargain-bin price. Of course that was still millions of dollars, but he’d gotten a whole city block right next to the new light rail station for a few bucks per square foot.
A brass plate next to the old-fashioned art-deco doors proclaimed Morgan Industries. She’d done a little research before accepting the appointment, but for the life of her, she still didn’t know exactly what that meant. He wasn’t into a single business, but owned hundreds of different companies and franchises all across the globe. His interests and investments were as varied as his many charitable contributions. From what she could tell, he basically just bought and sold companies, usually at a fraction of their value, which suddenly skyrocketed after his purchase. It was like he had the Midas touch.
So what did a man like him want with a stained glass window?
Especially when he had the funds to hire a world-famous artist?
Sure, she’d finally built up enough business she could almost pay her mortgage on just commissions and classes, but she’d been busting her ass for years. A wealthy, important client like him could be the stepping stone to larger commercial contracts she hadn’t been able to tap yet. With his recommendation, she could maybe even open her own gallery. This one project could make her career.
The ground floor had been rented out to various fast-food joints, coffee shops and even a one-hour dry cleaner. Business must be good, because people were scurrying back and forth like ants, jostling her every which way. Of course it didn’t help that the appointment had been scheduled right before lunch. A woman with blonde hair pulled back in a sleek bun and dressed in a nice navy suit ruined by hot-pink tennis shoes practically knocked her into the wall on her way to the front door.
She remembered the claustrophobic feeling she’d gotten inside her day job’s cubicle. How even one less minute of fresh air and sunshine outside during her lunch break would have made her as vicious as a rabid dog the rest of the afternoon. She’d had to quit or else go postal on her innocent coworkers. Or start taking anxiety meds. Quitting her job and finding something she truly loved was better than numbing herself with medication the rest of her life, even if she’d had to struggle to make ends meet.
She had to wait while the elevator emptied like an endless clown car at the circus, but she had it alone for the ride up to the top floor. The higher she went, the more underdressed she felt. She’d worn the only suit she’d kept from the days of corporate slavery, but it was out of fashion and, frankly, a little too tight. She’d quit caring so much about always doing what was “right” and being perfect in all ways, instead simply living and loving her life. She’d never been happier and if some man didn’t like a little extra padding he could keep on walking because she felt sexy and she took damned good care of herself.
If I ever have to face a day without pie, I’ll just give up and stay in bed.
She stepped out of the elevator and put on her polite smile for the waiting receptionist. Maybe it was her imagination, but the secretary’s smile seemed more like a sneer than a professional greeting. Lilly glanced down at herself to make sure all buttons and zippers were appropriately closed. Check. Her silk blouse was a little low cut but she wore a lace cami underneath. She’d worn serviceable plain black heels and not her favorite fuck-me stilettos. With a mental shrug, Lilly followed the other woman into Mr. Morgan’s office.Screw it. If I have to come back to see him, I’m wearing the leather mini skirt and those shoes.
Since his picture was readily available in all the media stories covering his acquisitions and success, she’d known he was a gorgeous man of the tall, dark and handsome variety. She hadn’t expected to be affected by him. Pretty, svelte, arrogant men weren’t her type.
He was pretty, and yeah, he was damned svelte in that impeccable suit. He stood behind his desk, arms crossed, shoulders wide and feet planted, aggressively defiant and proud. It almost made her laugh. She couldn’t resist a wide smile, even if he didn’t know the cause. She hadn’t even opened her mouth yet and he was chomping for a fight.This’ll be fun.
“Miss Harrison.” He spoke in a clipped, hard voice echoing with disapproval. No wonder his secretary had looked at her with such disdain. She’d already picked up on the alpha’s opinion. “Do you have a portfolio?”
Not at all. The large leather thing she held in her hand was merely a strange saddle she’d used on the jackass she’d ridden into town. Of course she had a portfolio. What artist would ever go to a prospective client meeting without a single example of her work?
She didn’t bother answering, but simply stepped closer and opened the leather portfolio on his desk. Of course the pictures were upside down, but she didn’t change it. She wanted to see how he’d respond.
The obvious solution would have been turning it around to face him. Instead, he came around the massive desk to stand beside her. Too close, actually. He intruded on her personal space.
