Billionaire’s Quarry: A Billionaire, Bad Boy, Romance (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Boxed Set) (194 page)

Cosima was arranging invoices into alphabetical order when Arlo found her. The office behind the reception o
f the hotel had been finished for a while,
and Cosima used that as her base, only occasionally wondering if the men working above would come through the ceiling.

Arlo stood at the door and watched her. On her desk were six neat piles of paperwork and Arlo noted with amusement, her office supplies were also neatly placed. ‘Are you really that bored?’

Cosima looked up and grinned. ‘It’s true, I’m struggling to find things to do – the contractors are all running on time, within budget, they all know what they have to do.’ She sighed. ‘Yup, I’m
bored,
and that’s something I never thought I would say in this job.’

Arlo chuckled and came to the desk to pull her to her feet. ‘Hmm, how can I make you un-bored?’

‘
Un-bored
is not a word.’

‘Is to. Miss Bedi, I recognize this dress.’

She was wearing the same wrap dress she had on when they had driven out to the lake and made love under the stars. He hooked a finger into the belt and pulled. She grinned.

‘Ha ha,
foiled
. I double knotted it,’
she
giggled as
he
groaned and buried
his
face in
her
neck.

‘You honestly think that would stop me, Cosima,’ he nibbled her
earlobe,
and she shivered with pleasure.

‘No…but there’s no lock on that door yet…’

He met her gaze. ‘So?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Exhibitionist.’

He grinned wickedly. ‘Come here.’ He led her over to the door and made her face it, her stomach against the hard wood. He pulled his tie from his neck and tied her hands behind her. Cosima, her breath quickening, gasped a little as he pushed her skirt up, and tugged her panties down. His fingers found her sex and began to stroke and excite. With her ear pressed to the door, she could hear the workmen outside
talking,
and as their voices got closer, Arlo increased the pressure on her clit before suddenly thrusting his cock into her from behind, the friction on her cunt delicious and delirious. Cosima sighed, her head falling back to rest on his shoulder. Arlo kissed her as he plunged deeper inside her. ‘Cos…?’

His question was said in a curious
way
as if asking permission and suddenly she knew what he wanted. ‘Do it,’ she whispered, ‘I trust you.’

He tilted her chin up so he could kiss her mouth deeply then used his hands to gently part her buttocks. He eased himself out of her vagina, and then pushed gently into her ass. Cosima gasped and shuddered at the quick pain. Outside she could hear the men talking and laughing but then as the
pressure
increased, she heard nothing but her own ragged breathing, Arlo’s excited breaths as he fucked her, his hand still rubbing her clit. Cosima came quickly, such was the overwhelming feeling of
him,
and she cried out a little, hearing the men outside stop talking. For a moment, they both froze then Cosima got the giggles which made Arlo laugh. He pulled out and they tidied themselves up. Cosima’s legs felt strange as she walked back to her desk.

Arlo, his face flushed, grinned at her. ‘Well, that was thrilling…what say we do that in every room in this hotel?’

Cosima laughed. ‘You are a nymphomaniac, you know that?’ She kissed him, sliding her arms around his waist. ‘But, yes, absolutely.’

He kissed her thoroughly then regretfully let her go. ‘I have bad
news,
though; I have to go back to Frisco for a couple of days.’

Cosima pouted. ‘Boo. Why do you have to go?’

‘Shareholders meeting. Just know that I will be bored out of my skull without you.’

‘Good.’

Later, at home, after Arlo had left for the airport, Cosima took a long soak in the tub then padded around her echoingly empty apartment. Harpa’s leaving had been more of a wrench that Cosima had admitted and now, without even Arlo here, she felt lonelier than she had done in years. Stop being so self-pitying, she said to herself and resolved to pull it together. She went to the kitchen to seek out food but couldn’t be bothered to cook so she grabbed a box of cereal and ate straight from it.

She went into the living room and sat in the window seat to gaze out at the night; something that drove Jack crazy from a
security point
of view but she loved to watch people as they drifted through the Quarter on their way to clubs and bars and music venues. She had turned all the lights out in her room and sat a little back so she could watch
while
being unseen. It had been raining and the lights of the Quarter reflected in the water on the road creating an ethereal
scene below
her window. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass. She had thought it impossible to love a city more than New
York,
but New Orleans had captured her heart so completely that she couldn’t ever have
imagined
leaving it.
             

She got up and went to bed, leaving her window open to let the cool night breeze wash over her
hot,
tired body, and fell asleep almost immediately.

Outside, the man who had been watching her from the street
below
flicked out his
cigarette
and walked away.

Harpa cleaned the last of the kitchen counter down and dumped the dirty water in the sink. She had been working part-time at this restaurant for a month
now,
and she loved every single, hot, sweaty, stressful, exhausting minute of it. The head chef, a coarse but brilliant Englishman called Stanley – ‘Or call me Stan, love, I don’t give a shit, I ain’t posh’ – had taken her on but told her ‘Everyone starts out as a pot washer in my kitchen. You’ll get your chance to learn, I just want to see you earn your keep.’

So she did just that, without one complaint, putting in even longer hours than necessary to show the bluff Briton. She knew she had impressed him because two weeks in, he’d taken her aside and shown her some of his signature dishes, watching her try to emulate them. She’d watched him taste each one with nervous trepidation then he’d give her feedback, constructive
criticism,
and praise where it was earned. When she perfected something, he would just taste
it,
and a big smile would tell her everything she needed to know.

Harpa glanced at the
clock.
Just after one a.m.
God
,
and she had a nine a.m. class too. She yawned expansively then grinned. Nights like this she was glad of the constant presence and therefore convenient ‘cab’ potential of Arlo’s security team. They must be bored out of their minds, she thought now, grabbing her coat. Sitting around all day. She grabbed the foiled covered tray of leftovers she had saved for them – tonight she knew it would be Tony and Sean who would be in the car. They were her favorites – not as po-faced professional as the
others,
and both were nearer her age and had a sense of humor.

‘Evening, boys,’ she said now as she clambered into the back seat.

‘Evening, Princess,’ Sean beamed at her from the front passenger seat. ‘What you got for us tonight?’

‘Beef
Wellington,
sautéed potatoes and green beans.’ She waved the tray to let them smell
it,
and they both drooled. ‘Hey look, why don’t you just come up to the apartment and eat tonight?’ Too late, she remembered her nine a.m. class. Sean grinned at her.

‘That’s good of
you,
but we need to keep our distance – part of our contract, we stay a certain distance away unless you need us….for cab rides and the like.’

Harpa chuckled, relieved. ‘Well, okay then. You may need to stop at a bodega, get some plastic cutlery then.’

On the ride home, she checked her phone. A text message from Cosima:
I miss you, Bubba, when can I come visit?
Harpa grinned.
Anytime you want, Cos, you’re always welcome, I miss you too. How’s my sugar daddy?

At home, she showered quickly then fell into bed, not seeing the letter that had been slipped under her door.

Arlo nodded to the foreman at LaBelle. ‘Hey, have you seen Cosima?’

The workman, Al, smiled. ‘Miss Bedi wanted to look at the penthouse; we’re almost done up there so she grabbed a hard hat and went up about ten minutes ago.’

Arlo thanked him and took the stairs up to the penthouse.  The apartment was spacious and rang with emptiness; it still needed decorating and
furnishing,
but Arlo couldn’t help but be excited; this was to be his and Cosima’s home – if she hadn’t changed her mind.  She’d been quiet these last few
days,
and he had been concerned that she was starting to regret telling him yes to living with him so soon.

He found Cosima in the living room, gazing out of one of the large windows.  He slid his arms
around
her waist, feeling her start as she felt him behind her. ‘
Hey,
beautiful.’

She turned in his arms and kissed him. ‘
Hey,
yourself.  Just taking in the view.’

She
smiled,
but he could see the
sadness
in her eyes.  He stroked her cheek. ‘What is it, Cos? Talk to me.’

She sighed. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been quiet, it’s just…it’s the anniversary of my father’s murder today.’

Arlo was appalled. ‘God, Cosima, I’m so sorry.  How long has it been?’

‘Sixteen years,’ she shook her head sadly. ‘Every year I keep waiting for the pain of it to
lessen,
and it never does.’

He pulled her close and tightened his arms around her. ‘I wish I could say I can’t imagine, but sadly I can.’

‘Your brother?’

He nodded. He had told
her
about Mason at the beginning of their relationship. ‘We both of us know what violence can do.  You don’t talk about your dad a lot.’

Cosima shook her head. ‘I can’t form the words to tell you how much he meant to me, to Harpa.  He was everything.’

‘I’m so sorry, baby.  Do you have anything you like to do on the anniversary?’

She shook her head. ‘Harpa and I usually just have a meal in his honor, toast his memory, and thank him for everything he did. But now Harpa’s in Seattle…’

‘Would you let me be her proxy? We could have a quiet meal in my hotel – room service?’

Cosima smiled. ‘I’d love to
spend
the evening with
you,
but I’ll cook, if you don’t mind, it’s a tradition…my father loved Indian cuisine and even better if it was homemade.’

‘Sounds perfect – if I can help you cook.’

‘It’s a deal.’ She smiled then looked around the empty penthouse. ‘This place will be mind-blowing when it’s finished.  Still sure you wanna share?’ She grinned at
him,
and he laughed.

‘Hell, yes, you think I’d let you off that easy.  Come on, let’s get planning décor and furnishings; the quicker it’s
done,
the quicker I get to wake up with you in
our
home.’

Harpa read the message from Cosima as she was driven to work.

Thinking of you today, Harp, and of Dad. I love you both so much. C.

Harpa smiled, feeling tears prick her eyes.  It was definitely strange to be away from her sister today. She quickly sent a reply then stuck her phone away.  She was nervous because today, one of her dishes was going to be on the restaurant’s menu.  She’d cooked it for everyone as a one-month anniversary treat for making her feel so
welcome,
and they’d eaten after service one night.  Everyone had fallen in love with it, especially Stanley and he’d told her, if she just perfected it a little more, then he would try it out on the customers.  She couldn’t quite believe it and today was the day.  What made it more
nerve-wracking
was that one of Seattle’s most prominent restaurant critics had
booked
a table at the lunchtime sitting.  Stanley, grinning, had told her that gleefully, and she had swatted away his teasing. ‘As if this wasn’t scary enough!’

Her two bodyguards today were the oldest and most remote
pair,
but she was grateful for that today – she didn’t want to talk, just go through every step of her preparation for the dish – of course, there may not be any orders for
it,
but she hoped…

Stanley was already at the restaurant when she walked in and with a smile, she saw he had done a great deal of prep for her. ‘Don’t get used to it,’ he told her, smirking,’ this is a one-time deal even if your meal does make it onto the main menu.’

Harpa hugged him. ‘Stan…god, thank you. Man, I’m so nervous.’

‘Don’t be,’ he threw her apron at her, ‘just do what you do, step by step, don’t
panic,
and you’ll be fine.’

And she was, following his advice, she soon switched into chef mode, slicing and peeling, making the spice paste for the base, prepping the chicken breasts, making heavenly scented jasmine rice.

By the time service started, she had everything organized and was waiting to see if anyone ordered her dish.  Stan and some of her other colleagues teased her every time she jumped to see what orders had come in.  Finally, Stan waved a piece of paper. ‘Seven orders, chicken dhansak, tables three and seven.’

Harpa swung into
gear,
and less than a quarter hour later, she called ‘Service, please’ as the steaming curry dishes were placed on the pass. She didn’t have time to mull over what the reaction would be as Stan called out for more orders and she leaped into action.

Over thirty orders for her dish came in over the lunchtime
service,
and Harpa was running on pure adrenaline.  She was clearing her station when Wendy, one of the waitresses came in.

‘It smells like heaven in the restaurant,’ she told them, ‘As soon as we took one of Harpa’s
currys
out, the patrons made like meerkats and asked what that gorgeous smell was.  You killed it, Harp.’ She grinned at a stunned and red-faced Harpa.  Harpa looked at Stan who nodded, his pride
obvious
.

‘You did good, kid. They’re asking for you out front.’

Harpa blinked at him, not understanding, and laughing, he pushed her out into the restaurant. ‘Ladies, Gents, thank you for your comments…and as requested, your chef for today, Harpa Bedi.’

The patrons applauded
her
and although she was touched, she still could have disappeared through the floor.  Instead, she walked to each table and accepted their praise and thanked them.  She could see Stan nodding approvingly out of the corner of her eye.  At the last table sat a middle-aged, well-fed man with spectacles on the end of his nose. He reminded Harpa of a younger, chubbier Dumbledore.   His dining companion was a striking black man with such a beautiful face Harpa thought she might get lost in his smile.  His older companion gave her praise and a couple of pointers on style.

‘But on the whole, a very welcome addition to this place,’ he smiled benevolently at
her,
and Harpa suddenly realized who he was. The restaurant critic. She shook his hand.

‘Thank you,
Mr.
Sheridan; it’s a pleasure to meet you.’

‘Yes, I imagine it would be,’ the man said with a self-deprecating laugh. Harpa liked him immediately. ‘Miss Bedi, my companion here was even more impressed than I – may I introduce Mikah Ray?’

His companion stood –
God
, he was tall
– and shook Harpa’s hand, his dark eyes merry and flirtatious. ‘That dish was incredible, my congratulations.’

‘Thank you,
Mr.
Ray…are you a food critic too?’

Both men laughed. ‘No, I’m
afraid
I’m just a lowly art dealer.’

Sheridan Farr made a scoffing noise in his throat. ‘Yes, very
lowly
. How much did you bring in last year?’

Mikah Ray was still gazing at Harpa, who couldn’t look away.  All sorts of strange butterfly feelings were whirling around inside her as she took in the smooth skin of his handsome face, half covered with a beard, the faint crinkling at the corners of his eyes.  A pulse started beating between her
thighs,
and she had to look away from that gorgeous
face
that perfectly shaped mouth…

She missed what Mikah Ray had answered to his friend so when they laughed, she smiled uneasily. ‘Okay, well, thank you both again, and I’m glad you enjoyed the dish. Hope to see you again.’

Sheridan smiled at her. ‘Thank you, dear.’

Mikah took her hand and kissed the back of it. ‘Oh, you will see me again, I promise.’

She escaped back to the kitchen, her heart beating wildly, and joined her friends and colleagues in clearing the kitchen.  Harpa was working like an
automaton,
though
, torn between thinking about her success and Mikah Ray’s smile, the feel of his lips against her skin. 

‘Hey, doofus, you’ve just cleaned that bit six times,’ Wendy was nudging her.  Harpa grinned at her.  Of all the staff, and
with the exception of
Stan, Wendy was the person she had bonded with most; a fun-loving blonde in her mid-thirties, Wendy flirted with everyone and was the best at what she did, but when she went home at night, she was the single mother of three gorgeous kids.  She was happy about her status quo, telling Harpa, ‘I’ve never felt the need to be married or
coupled-up
.  The kid’s fathers are all friend, all show up for them whenever they want.  I count myself pretty lucky.’

Now, she passed Harpa a folded napkin, grinning. ‘Go get yours,’ she whispered then walked off, cackling to herself.  Harpa knew before she even opened the napkin who it was from.  Her
face
warmed,
and that pulse between her legs began again, more frantically.

Drinks tonight? The Cupola House,
8 pm
. If yes, call or text me, if no, peace
be
with you. Mikah Ray

Underneath he’d scrawled his number.  Harpa ran her finger over the number
and then,
before she could talk herself out of it, she texted him.

Yes.  Looking forward to it. Harpa Bedi.

She debated putting a smiley face then decided against it.  Too kiddish.  Something told her that although
he
looked a lot of fun, there was nothing but pure adult virile male about Mikah Ray.

She was looking forward to finding out.