Billionaire Romance: Darque Initiation (A Darque Billionaire Romance Book 1)

This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. It may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults ONLY.

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Book 1

Darque Initiation

Diana Steele

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This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

DISCLAIMER

Please don’t be stupid and kill yourself. This book is a work of FICTION. Do not try any new sexual practice that you find in this book. It is fiction and not to be confused with reality. Neither the author nor the publisher or its associates assume any responsibility for any loss, injury, death or legal consequences resulting from acting on the contents in this book. Every character in this book is over 18 years of age. The author’s opinions are not to be construed as the opinions of the publisher. The material in this book is for entertainment purposes ONLY.  Enjoy.

Bastien Darque was a man of no secrets—a completely transparent, good American entrepreneur, or at least that was the aim of Senator Mallory Darque’s new agenda. Her bid for the presidency had to be uncontested and without any political scandal. It would be the perfectly timed campaign, since her early opponents were dropping like flies, bowing out because of racial slurs, old associations, controversial viewpoints…and of course, the occasional out of wedlock sexual escapade that Americans simply couldn’t fathom from their executive branch.

Convincing the public that Bastien Darque, her son, was a safe and politically correct White House hopeful, was going to be like dressing the devil up for Easter Sunday. The thirty-two-year-old media mogul bad-boy was used to buying companies, selling stock just in the nick of time, out-scheming international competitors, and yes—having his pick of the loveliest women the world over.

It was no big news that Bastien was a magnet for feminine wiles with his youthful but chiseled face, dark eyes, and short curly hair that instantly painted him as a strong Latino presence, and typically the most charismatic man in the room. Whether he showed up dressed in Armani or worse a smart casual sweater, the man looked valuable, figures and currencies aside, and was physically imposing standing six foot three. He was the man everybody wanted on their team. And the fast-thinking, take action kind of man every woman wanted inside her exploratory committee, among other things.

Of course, getting Bastien’s attention wasn’t the easiest of tasks. Despite his friendly smiles given to the camera, he rarely showed any interest in his mother’s political life, and found the entire idea of evaluating and cleaning a ‘digital footprint’ ludicrous. How in the world could they ‘clean up’ the image of a man who clearly didn’t care?

Bastien Darque stood silent, as his staff members did most of the talking in meeting with the Haschell Public Relations firm in Washington D.C., in Foxhall Crescent.

In order for Senator Mallory to sneak by all the falling politicians and win the nomination, she would have to make damn sure that Bastien—obviously untamable—was virtually invisible to the mainstream world, besides his smart business dealings, which could be spun to be in her favor.

“The next step is to make sure that no mention of you is left on any public forum that hasn’t been approved,” said Carter Abrams, the project manager. “All we really need is one leak, just one, and the press will become a bloodhound for more information.”

The firm was large all right, easily the largest in the city and with an impressive base, complete with the newest designs in architectural austerity. The walls were glass, giving the place an open, transparent feeling, as if letting the world know that there were no secrets, not when they cleaned up the mess.

Finally, something caught the torpid Bastien Darque’s attention, and for a man of such power to suddenly shift his head in one direction, it easily caused a sea of executives to do the same.

“Who is that?” he said, tilting his head towards a young dark-haired woman walking past the glass wall to her see-through cubicle.

“Uh…that’s actually one of our new interns,” Abrams said, trying to recollect who the shadow woman was himself and just barely remembering. “Her name, I believe, is Arabella Stone.”

“Hmmm,” he said, his eyes finally lighting up and giving a damn about the scene he was stuck in. “Arabella, a quaint name.” 

Everything about the woman was quaint. Twenty-one years old and just having graduated American University, she had that aura about her. Idealistic. Smart. Maybe a little clumsy, but only because she didn’t take short steps, nor did she have that look, or that voice, of worldly wise cynicism.

He didn’t say it, but his eyes told the story. Arabella was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Probably because she seemed opposite most of the flashy and fake girls of the casinos, world famous bars and celebrity-stuffed nightclubs. Her hair was dark and wavy but with old Hollywood style curls. Her eyes were muted, grey but seemed purple, matching her floral blouse perfectly. And her smile, so sincere, so wide and toothy, and so hopeful.

“Why did you hire her?”

“We have a deal with the university. Usually students in journalism or marketing, they get an internship try out. She’s a bit shy, but I think she has potential.”

“Well, potential is ours to glean, isn’t it?”

Abrams smiled, as if what he had to say even mattered.

“I want her to work on this project. She strikes me as someone who…understands the idealism of what we’re doing here.”

“Ooookay. I think this project might be a bit of a reach for her. But it’s baptism by fire, eh?”

Darque smiled…gradually, always treating a client like the camera, if never quite listening to the whole conversation. “They’re here to learn. I’m confident you can teach her to do a swell job.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll make sure Miss Stone is informed.”

Abrams smirked at some of the other staff members. Cleaning up this womanizer’s reputation was going to go on their portfolio, rest assured.

*****

Arabella had no idea her life was about to change. She had been spotted by Bastien Darque and once the man decided something, there was no arguing his logic or his stubbornness.

Not that she was going to be thrilled about the sudden promotion, if you could call it that. It hadn’t even been a week at the firm and she was overwhelmed at just how much information they expected her to learn and memorize. She had already worked for a few hours in multiple divisions all around the building. She knew they liked her and just about everyone complimented her attitude. Hope, the willingness to accept people at face value, it was such an important quality among panicking politicians, desperate CEOs and clueless movie stars.

Friday morning had come. This was the week she was going to be assigned a new task and actually gain some resume-worthy experience. Her nerves were on edge. Sure, it was the dream job she wanted but some tasks definitely seemed more grueling than others. Making statements to the press was nice. Writing articles was her forte and interviewing prominent figures, sure, that was the ultimate fantasy.

As long as she didn’t land in reputation management! She sighed, just thinking of the drudgery that is dishonest reporting. More like damage control. Everything about the job was unethical; protecting all these shady people—the kind of man who cowers and runs, hoping someone else will take care of his mess.

Abrams walked by, smiling convivially as he passed out the new positions for the internships.

Bella, as her friends called her for short, was up next. She smiled widely and nervously, hoping her new boss would find her enthusiasm inspiring, rather than the sign of an amateur.

“Bella, congratulations.”

Not reputation management…please not reputation management.

She smiled and begged him with her eyes. There was only so much lying she could take before her fresh and guileless spirit was crushed.

“Reputation management.” Big promotion.

And she smiled. And smiled. It took everything in her not to quit right then and there, or at least to bluntly complain and request a demotion.

Be professional. Be professional.

But her eyes did most of the talking and Abrams knew it.

“I know this is surprising, Bella. You made it clear what your aspirations were. But you were personally requested for this assignment a Mister Bastien Darque.”

“The guy? The relative of that senator who’s running?”

“Yes. Would you like to meet him?”

“I suppose that would be the professional thing to do.”

“He may be coming by on Monday. Possibly sooner, but definitely by Monday morning. Be sure to look your best and don’t laugh. Remember we talked about that,” he said with a smirk.

And just when Bella thought things couldn’t possibly get any lower…

She turned and saw Bradley Barr, her ex-boyfriend.

Oh God, he’s interning here too? I thought he was going to Statton-Edwards?”

“You two know each other?”

“Well…just…old colleagues.”

“Ah. I gotcha,” Abrams said with a pained smile. “Well, you will find in marketing and publicity, you will have strange bedfellows from time to time. And I mean that quite literally.”

Bradley noticed her and sent her a half-way glance as if to emphasize,
Yeah I’ll make it my business to be a problem.
Things didn’t end so well, but that was the name of the game in reputation management, wasn’t it? Keep personal feelings out of the equation. Sweep all the damaging details under the rug. Above all, learn to smile at the people you hate.

*****

Friday had been a bust. Her future certainly looked laid out for her and quite demoralizing. The fact that she turned twenty-one today was almost an afterthought. She had hoped that she would be toasting with friends for her new job as a media consultant or TV journalist. Something meaningful. Cleaning up other people’s messes, the glorified ‘spinner’ of every two-bit politician coming out of Washington was nothing to brag about.

However, there had to be the separation of work and party time, right? That was the American Dream. Don’t mix business with pleasure and whatever you do, never neglect the pleasure!

So she threw her worries to the wind and went out with her roommate for the big twenty-one—even if the evening was slightly gloomy because of the demotion. They went to the Ultrabar, the hottest club in D.C., and a former bank, which now looked like a cross between a laser show and a hotel bar, so there had to be irony in that. 

“You look great, Bella!” Alicia said, admiring Bella’s purple blouse and gray skirt. Bella always looked like royalty, like a timeless movie star just waiting for her moment in the sun, but she never seemed to realize it.

“Yeah, I don’t feel so great though,” she said, pouting and sucking down another shot of tequila.

“Aww, what’s wrong? Is it Bradley? Seeing his ugly ass get you down?”

“No, not really. It’s just the whole dream job bust. It was a really shitty birthday present.”

“Come on, now. It’s just a stepping stone. Trust me, with your good looks and your perky attitude
you’re going to be
promoted within six months.”

“That’s the problem though,” she said eyeing the tall ceilings and signaling for another drink. “I probably got on board the most important project at the firm. Handling Senator Mallory Darque’s digital cleanup. It’s such a big case that it got the attention of Bastien Darque. He came into the firm earlier this week.”

“THE Bastien? The cute one? The young guy?”

“I guess. I don’t really keep up with that family. I couldn’t even find him in a lineup.”

“It’s not about the prestige, honey. It’s about the money. So let’s toast to your success! Here’s to getting wasted on your twenty-first birthday and not letting the drudgery of career get in the way of a precious memory. Come on, live, goddamnit!”

Bella finally cracked a smile. “Okay. It is a big deal, I suppose, to be drunk. Or legally drunk, I should say!”

“Don’t let the bullshit get to you. You’re going to walk in tomorrow and tell them how it is!  You’re going to step on some balls and set those boys straight on how to run a campaign.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday! I’m going to be hung over and howling in pain!” Bella laughed, finally relaxing—or at least the tequila shots were finally kicking in. Everything Alicia said was right. This wasn’t about the Darque family or even that creep Bradley. This was about her win. It was time to celebrate.

*****

It just wasn’t like Bastien Darque to leave anything to chance. He was fascinated by Bella and wanted to make sure he got the introduction he paid for with that instant job promotion.

Earlier that afternoon, while Abrams was counseling Bella about her promotion, Bastien walked up to Bradley, all smiles that never really reached his eyes.

“Hey, excited about the project?”

Bradly, always the brownnoser, feigned a good smile, the kind that public relations firms loved. “Mister Darque! It is an honor, sir! I follow you on the news all the time.”

“Yes. Kind of hard to miss the Darque name, thanks to mother.”

“And a great president she would make.”

He tilted his head. “I don’t believe our family has publicly announced anything like that. Where did you hear that, son?”

“Oh…uh…probably Fox News or something. Sorry. I spoke out of line.”

“De nada, my friend. But I’ll tell you what you can do to make it up to me. That girl. I saw her earlier. I believe her name is Arabella Stone.”

“Oh yes. Yes, I knew her from college. We were uh…friends. Good friends.”

He squinted his eyes just a little bit, already showing his possessiveness of the most beautiful woman he had seen over twenty years of looking at the best. “I’m sure you were. I want to know a little bit about her. For example, do you know where about town she lives? Or her interests?”

“Well…” Bradley said, balancing his carefully staged brownnosing with his own natural jealousy. “I know she’s smart. Ambitious. But uh…what you might call naïve.”

“Naiveté? Is that what you consider a personal flaw, my friend?”

“Well…I wouldn’t call it a flaw,” he said with a manly laugh. “But I think working in the real world changes you. You know I interned before at another firm and I…”

“So,” Bastien said, interrupting Bradley’s all-important point. “What does she usually do on Friday night? If you don’t mind me asking.”

His razor sharp eyes left no room for polite refusal. The man’s looks were downright hypnotic. It took less than two seconds for Bradley to cave. “Well, let’s see…since she’s turning twenty-one today…and I was so rudely not invited, by the way. She’s probably going out with her roommate and BFF Alicia. For drinks.”

“Where at?”

“Well…I honestly don’t know,” he said, finally growing a spine. “We don’t talk that much. Because uh…well. Just…creative differences in the past.”

“Creative differences,” Bastien laughed, but his piercing eyes stayed on the boy. “Tell you what, friend. I’ll give you a cash bonus for your great work interning. If you let me know her favorite club.”

“Probably the Ultrabar,” he said smiling at the two c-notes he slipped in his fingers. “Alicia loves the modern look of the place, and all the lights. You know women,” laughed Bradley.

“I do know women,” Bastien replied with a look of gravitas. “But I’m not sure that flashing lights has anything to do with genetics. When did you become such a connoisseur of technology, friend?”

“Well…I guess what I meant was…”

“Excuse me. But by all means, keep going.”

Bradley stared, a bit red faced as Bastien walked away. He was already in the bar and talking to his dream girl, at least mentally. The man lived up to his reputation all right. Bradley shrugged off the guilt of selling out his ex-girlfriend. Sure, they weren’t exactly on great terms by the end, but all he really did was pass along a name. Surely Bella wouldn’t hold a grudge about that sort of thing, right?

Then he remembered,
Well, she is Bella. A heart of gold and the most idealistic girl I’ve ever met. Stubbornly idealistic.

Defeated and unable to finish his great speech about anything, Bradley decided to go out and have a drink himself to wash away the pain and humiliation that was the public relations industry. But probably not at Ultrabar. The Gibson sounded a little more inviting.

*****