Arrangement With A Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaire Brothers #1) (4 page)

F
ortunately
, she was able to catch a cab just outside of her building. She needed a cab. Public transportation would double the time it would take for her to get to Calendri Corp, and if she drove, there was no way she wouldn't cause a giant pileup with how much of a hurry she was in.

Thankfully, the cab drivers in this city were all samurai in traffic. She had no doubt this guy would get her to where she needed to go, especially when she said she was in a damned hurry and there was a hundred dollar tip for him if he got her to her destination safely.

He did, but she was still late. Every time she checked her phone, the minutes were ticking by regardless of how much she wanted them to stop. Her body was buzzing with all kinds of energy she couldn't get rid of until she made it to Calendri Corp. That was where she needed to be and nothing else would do. She needed to stand in front of Arturo and tell him she was going to take his deal.

And then probably end up begging him to not turn her away.

She tossed the money at the driver when he pulled up in front of the tall glass building. There was probably more than a hundred dollars there for a tip, which she could ill afford at the moment, but it would be worth it so long as she could convince Arturo to not be an asshole.

Isla ran through the doors, nearly breaking her ankle when she almost slipped, and shocking quite a few men in suits who were coming and going from the building. She also almost knocked over an older businesswoman carrying a briefcase and talking on her phone.

She didn't stop, didn't look back, and didn't apologize like she knew she should have.

No time. No time. No time.

Then, of course, the fucking elevator.

She didn't have to wait for it to open for her. It was already open and teaming with passengers.

She hit the button for the top floor, and of course, the stupid elevator had to stop every second or third floor to let people on and off.

She tapped her phone against her hip, trying to keep her knee from jittering too much. If she started tapping her foot, the shoes she wore would give her away in an instant.

All the same, why couldn't any of these fucking people use the stairs? Some were going up only a flight or two, and yet they waited for the elevator, stalled progress, and made sure that another five minutes went by before she was almost to the top.

"Going to the see the boss, are you?" asked the man standing beside her.

He was well dressed, cute, and had the boy-next-door type of face, but had enough maturity in his eyes and age in his looks to be the sort that she liked to go for.

"Are you late?" He asked that particular question with a smile on his face that normally would have made her melt, especially with those perfectly white teeth and the way he looked at her making it obvious he was interested.

Yeah, there was definitely no melting happening at the moment. She glared at him, and the smile left his face quickly as he turned away.

Not a good time, and she was not in the right mood. A part of her hated that she was acting like a total bitch, but she couldn't help it. The stress inside of her was too big, and it was taking over.

Finally, she was at the top of the building, squeezing through the doors before they were open all the way, and by then, it was a quarter to four. She'd made it in good time, really, but it didn't feel like it. She was out of breath and angry.

Sylvia was behind her marble desk, soft brown hair pulled back into a tight bun on her head, and she had a smile on her face as she watched Isla approach.

"Is he in his office?" she asked, forcing herself to a stop, her knees trembling like she'd just run a mile in the heels she wore.

"He is," Sylvia said, nodding and still smiling.

She didn't wait for an invite or for Sylvia to get out of her seat. She marched over to the doors herself and let herself on in. Sylvia didn't follow or call out for her to stop and wait. Curious, but not curious enough that Isla cared.

Arturo was there, in plain sight this time instead of banging some chick in his back room.

He probably still had a couple of girls back there.

He was jogging.

A treadmill that hadn't been in there yesterday—unless she'd just missed it—was set up and facing the far wall. A projector, which sat in a little compartment in the ceiling, put an image of a park on the enormous white screen, which had been pulled down from its hiding spot in the ceiling.

There were numbers on the screen in the top right corner. At first, she thought they were stocks, but then realized they weren’t. The program was keeping track of how far he had jogged, and there was a best score beneath it. He’d run whole marathons on this thing. That was incredibly impressive. She’d known he was good looking and kept in shape, but this was actually something of an accomplishment that she hoped to achieve one day.

If she ever got into good enough shape to do more than a half marathon, that is. She had yet to finish one of those.

The image of the park passing by slowed down, and the computerized people Arturo was running with sped on ahead of him.

“You’re late,” he said.

He’d stopped jogging and was simply walking, cooling down.

“I called your secretary, but she told me I couldn’t leave a message. My answer is yes,” she explained.

He grabbed a fresh white towel from the rack next to him and tossed it around his neck. Grabbing his water bottle, he took a pull on it, tilting his head back and exposing the sexy, shining, and strong length of his throat.

He tapped the screen on his treadmill, then pulled it free from the machine as he stopped walking. His tablet had been controlling the program he’d been using. It shut off and the screen on the wall silently pushed its way back up into its compartment in the ceiling. The projector did the same.

“No deal,” he said, stepping off the treadmill.

“
What
? But I’m here! I’m telling you I’ll do it!”

“I told you twenty-four hours, not twenty-five.”

He started walking away from her, and her sense of panic quadrupled. It multiplied in ways that felt about a thousand times worse than anything she knew, in higher numbers than she could calculate in her head.

“No, don’t do this. I’m only forty minutes late.”

“Forty-eight,” he corrected, moving to his desk and setting his tablet down. He started tapping and swiping, probably playing angry birds for all she knew. He didn’t care one bit how much she needed this, and it showed.

She clenched her fists. “Please, okay? I’m sorry. It was an accident. I thought I could call in and accept the offer.”

Arturo barely spared her a glance. “Kind of a deep and personal offer for you to want to discuss over the phone, don’t you think?”

“Well, you didn’t exactly tell me I couldn’t phone in either,” she snapped, her inner bitch getting prickly.

He lifted a dark brow at her. That was all it took. It was pathetic, but that was all she needed for her to force that inner bitch into a calm, submissive kitten. She needed this, and even if it meant eating a lot of crow and apologizing for something that was most definitely not her fault, she would do it.

She cleared her throat. “I should have asked. I’m sorry.”

He smiled. “All right.”

She waited, but he said nothing else. “All right?”

“I accept your apology.”

It clicked with her what he was doing. He was teasing her. Had they been anything close to friends, she would have smiled and teased back. Hell, if she didn’t know who he was and just thought he was doing a little harmless flirting, then she would have done the same thing.

This was not funny. This was so beyond not funny, but she had to play along.

“Please, accept my apology and allow me to also accept your offer,” she said. There was no way he could purposely misunderstand her now.

He knew what she wanted, and she was fairly certain he was going to give it to her. He just wanted to make her squirm first.

The unimaginable prick.

He heaved a heavy sigh, as though her request was something a little bit more on the inconvenient side than he would have liked. His eyes met hers again. “All right. I accept.”

She blinked, stunned. “You… you’re going to do it?”

She’d figured he would, but she’d also expected him to make her grovel a little more.

He didn’t. He was ending it now before his fun really got a chance to start up.

His smile lit up the damned office, even with sunlight coming in through the floor–to-ceiling windows behind him. Isla shivered, and she just knew a number of women had probably creamed themselves looking at that smile as well.

“Did you think I was going to torture you and make you beg?”

“Well, yes, actually,” she said. Sometimes honesty was the best policy, but not when trying to kiss someone’s ass. That was when lying through her teeth and schmoozing was the best policy. “But I figured you were too good of a man to tease me too long.”

Arturo smiled at her, but not a calm, pleasant sort of smile. It was the wry kind, like he was seeing through her bullshit.

He pulled his tablet closer to him and began some more tapping and swiping. There was a whirring noise, a shuffling of paper, and he leaned down to grab something.

There must have been a printer in a compartment under the expensive and massive looking desk, because he had a stack of papers in his hands.

He tapped them on the desk, straightening them out, took his stapler, and stapled the edges before holding the papers out to her. “This is your contract. Since you already showed up late, I expect you to read this and have it signed and returned to me within the hour, or the deal will be off. No more chances, no begging for forgiveness, and I’ll strip apart your grandfather’s business and send it to the dogs.”

She stared at the man. She couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe that a guy she didn’t know would be so damned mean and cruel about something when all she’d done was tell him to fuck off.

He stared at her, a hint of impatience in his eyes. “You can go now. Sylvia will find a place for you to sit and get a pen for you to sign.”

He already knew she was going to sign. That was it. He just wanted her to go and do it already, as though her very presence was an annoyance to him.

He tapped on his screen, and the doors to his office opened. Sylvia was right there, looking too damned prim and perfect in her well-fitting business attire as she held the door open.

Isla felt wrinkly and terrible as she turned and left Arturo’s office.

T
he contract wasn’t
as long as it looked, and thankfully, she was a fast reader. Her eyes were always good, thanks to her job making the jewelry for her grandfather’s boutique. It required lots of tiny pieces that had to be looked over and put together, which made quickly reading this a snap.

At first, it was basic Business 101. Neither Arturo nor his company were going to be held liable for any physical or emotional damages. She was entering into this agreement for a period of one month to the hour of signing. He would not abuse her physically or degrade her in public, and the contract also made it clear that he was the one who would define what abuse and degradation were.

Isla signed the bottom corner of that page. She was satisfied it meant he wouldn’t take her to a restaurant and force her to eat off the floor or something similar at the very least.

The rest was what he would be expecting of her, what she would need to do to make herself presentable in the one month that he would own her.

There were a lot of details here, more than even she had thought of. It kind of reminded her of
Fifty Shades of Grey
. She was going to have to ask him if he had any plans of watching her while she slept.

Every day, she was to shower and wear clean clothing and undergarments, or nothing at all—with the preference being nothing. She figured this was to stop her from rebelling against him by smearing herself in dirt and grease to make it so he couldn’t take her out and have people see them together.

She was also to be well prepared for every outing. Her makeup and hair were to be done. He would even provide her with a makeup artist and hair stylist to do those things for her.

Again, she assumed this was to prevent her from dressing like a clown to keep him away from her.

Failure to abide by any of these stipulations, even once, would mean that he could terminate the deal.

She skimmed through the rest, through all of the things she was expected to do or wear or say to keep from embarrassing him in public. She knew what he wanted already. She had to behave like a lady and not try to humiliate him.

What she wanted to get to was the sex.

Then she found it.

She skimmed that part quickly, and then read over her responsibilities again, slower this time to make sure she got it.

She would be staying with him every night. She would be provided with a room, but if he wanted her in his bed, she had to be there. If he wanted her out of his bed, then she would leave. She also had to participate. That part was in big, bold, black letters. She couldn’t just lie there and act like a corpse apparently. He wanted to fuck someone who was alive and going to contribute, and if he wanted her every night, she would make herself available to him every night. No exceptions.

The list of things he would expect made her blush. Nothing quite so
Fifty Shades
here. He wasn’t into the whole BDSM thing, which she was grateful for, but she had never seen a list like this before. A list she would be expected to carry out if he wanted her to.

Blow jobs. Hand jobs. Vaginal sex. Anal sex. Cunnilingus. Kissing. Light bondage—which was even specified all the way down to the sort of silk ties he would be using on her. The list went on, but none of it sounded overly scary. Some of it would be a little new, but she could handle it. None of it was anything she would never want to do anyway.

There were some other things in there that she didn’t even know what they were. They were on the second list, the list of things he specifically
wouldn’t
be doing to her. She had to look up on her phone really quickly to find out what an angry pirate and strawberry shortcake were, and when she saw the definitions, she was glad they were on the
not
to-do list, even if they made her laugh. There were other things on that list that she didn’t know what they were, but she wasn’t going to look up anymore weird stuff.

Condoms would also be used, since there was no time for her to be tested for STD’s, and as an added precaution, she would also have to be on the pill, starting immediately.

Well, she was already on it, so no worries there, but the condom thing made her feel better.

The interesting thing, however, was that this was the part of the contract that he was apparently allowing to be up for debate. If there was something she wanted to do that wasn’t listed, she could bring it to his attention and he would consider it. The fact that cunnilingus was already listed on what he did want to do to her meant he would be considering her pleasure at least a little bit.

So it wasn’t entirely bad.

She signed that page as well, then got to the signature page itself. She dated it, signed her name, printed it, and then she was done. She was actually kind of shocked that she didn’t have to prick her finger and put a drop of blood on the paper just to seal the deal with her soul or something.

Part of her hated this, the rest of her liked how thorough the contract was. The number of days Arturo had to sign the papers that would transfer ownership of Baciami Boutique was even listed. Within ten days after all of this was finished, he had to have the ball rolling to give her family’s company back. It might even come to her before that if she decided to annoy him enough.

Despite that, as she stood, her knees got a tiny wobble in them.

She’d signed the papers, but she hadn’t handed them in yet, and the little voice in her head was screaming at her to rip them up and be done with it. The other voice in her head was whispering sweetly about how close she was to her goal. So close. She just had to walk over to Sylvia, ask to see him again, and she could hand in the papers.

Time to be a big girl. There was nothing wrong with this. This was an agreement between two willing adults, so she needed to just suck it up and do it already.

She walked over to Sylvia’s desk. The woman looked up and smiled pleasantly at her, as though she were just another guest or a business associate. She was still trying to figure her out, but her heart beating like someone was taking a drumstick to it was taking up top-priority with her at the moment.

“I’d like to speak with Arturo again, please.”

She wasn’t about to call him Mr. Calendri. Not if she was going to have sex with him.

In fact, that seemed to calm her the most, just thinking about this as though it could be any other date or fling, something that could be fun for the both of them. All she needed to do was relax.

Sylvia pressed down on her tablet. “Miss King is coming back in, sir.”

“Send her in,” he replied.

She supposed it made sense that the man wouldn’t ask if she’d signed the papers, not over that little microphone.

“You may go inside,” Sylvia said, still smiling.

Maybe the social structure had changed slightly now that the papers were signed.

She went to the doors and only opened one to let herself inside.

He was sitting at his desk, his feet up on the polished wood as he leaned back in his chair. He looked a lot more presentable than he had when she’d first come in here. The jogging clothes were gone, and he was no longer sweaty and panting. Had he taken a shower? She should’ve expected it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for a billionaire to have a shower somewhere up here. He probably had the sort of bathroom that made high-end spas jealous.

It should have looked out of place, Arturo Calendri with his feet up like that while wearing a perfectly cut black suit and tie, but he pulled it off. How was he doing that? “You’re a whole ten minutes early this time. Did you even read it?”

“I read fast,” she explained. “I’ve signed them. It’s done.”

His brows went up. Had he really been expecting something different?

“Bring them to me.” He held out his hand.

She went to him, but she didn’t stand in front of his desk and hand the papers over. She went around the massive desk, her eyes locked onto his the entire time.

There was amusement in those dark orbs, as though he knew this was her way of striking even some small amount of independence from him. She wasn’t about to stand, or sit, in front of his desk like she was an employee. Out of the damned question.

“Here you go,” she said.

He took the papers, using both hands, his movements slow, and he made for damned sure his fingers brushed her hand.

She didn’t mean for it to happen, but her body tensed and she shivered.

There was no way he hadn’t noticed that. Fuck.

He leaned back, the movement of his body so obviously strong and graceful, even as he did something so simple in his leather chair.

Those dark eyes remained on her as he did so, before finally turning to the pages of his contract. He went through every page, making sure her initials were on all of them, her guarantee that she’d read those pages.

Then he moved on to the second to the last page. The page with the list of sexual things he could do to her if he really wanted to. Hell, he would do them. He could order her to get on her knees right now before leaving here, undo his pants, and put his cock in her mouth, and she wouldn’t be able to say no.

She trembled just thinking about it, but not in the way she would have expected.

Having a belief in the way sex should be treated between two adults and carrying that out herself, were two completely different things. She expected to feel nervous. She expected to have her doubts, but she also knew she wanted to do this.

What she didn’t expect was the moist heat that pooled between her legs. That was the last thing she’d seen coming. It definitely shouldn’t have happened.

Why? Why was this turning her on? Because he now had control of her? She found that sexy? Really?

The things a person learned about themselves if they really looked was always amazing. Isla had thought she’d learned everything there was to know about herself. Figuring out she may have a thing for being controlled or dominated in the bedroom was definitely new.

Not that she was going to get ready to be someone’s sub when this was over. She could say with a 100 percent certainty that she had no interest in going that far with any of this.

He checked the last page after thoroughly checking his list of do’s and don’ts. She didn’t know what he was studying so closely. Checking to make sure she hadn’t tampered with it, maybe?

He finally turned the page and looked over her signature. A slow smile spread across his mouth, and it somehow managed to accent his strong jaw. There was a dark shadow coming in that she hadn’t noticed an hour ago when she’d been in here, begging to be able to sign the damned contract.

Guys who had that shadow, or even a little bit of stubble, always turned her on. There was nothing sexier than that, especially on a man who was already beyond good looking.

“You signed it,” he said. He was not asking a question.

She didn’t get it. “What else was I supposed to do?”

He shrugged, and then he tapped the pages on his desk, as if they still needed straightening up.

She was pretty sure she understood. “Wait a minute, I was allowed to
negotiate
that?”

“It’s a contract. All contracts are up for negotiation.”

Son of a bitch.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, I was fine with what you put down, and you said I could negotiate with you what happened in… in the bedroom,” she said. She’d tried to save face by making it out as though this new information hadn’t bothered her, but the way her throat got caught when she’d tried to speak had nearly been her undoing.

He smiled at her. “Are you shy?”

“No!” she snapped.

His eyes remained on her, oddly serious in that moment. The smirk left his mouth in exchange for a grim line. “Are you a virgin?”

“No,” she said, managing to keep her voice calmer this time.

He stared at her as though he didn’t quite believe her. She considered lying to him, telling him she was a virgin, if the idea made him so damned uncomfortable. It would serve him right, and then she might not have to have sex with him.

Actually, considering what she now knew about Arturo Calendri, she would still wind up in bed with him. He’d probably get over any icky feelings he had on the subject really quickly and do what every red-blooded male needed to do from time to time if they wanted to keep from getting a case of blue balls without taking the problem into their own hands. That, and it would just get her in trouble with the contract. She wasn’t allowed to lie about anything to get out of sex or appearing at an event with him. So she couldn’t say she was on her period or something.

If he found out she’d lied about being a virgin to make him uncomfortable, then there was no telling what would happen.

“I’m not a virgin. I’ve been with five guys in my life. I’ll give you first names if you want them, but not last names and no phone numbers.”

“Are any of them on your social media?”

She blinked, having not expected that question. “Two of them are. We still keep in touch and are kind of friends.”

“Delete them. The rest of your friends are fine, but you’re not going to be talking to ex-boyfriends while you’re with me.”

“That’s not in the contract,” she protested.

“It is now.” The look on his face meant he wouldn’t be accepting any arguments from her.