Boxed Set: Dominated by a Billionaire - Part 10-12: Irresistible Billionaire (8 page)

Vadim takes a little black box out of his inner jacket pocket, opens it and hands it to me, trembling. Inside is a thin band in white gold mounted with the purest, brightest diamond I have ever seen. The letters that are still burning reflect in its thousand facets. I still haven’t said anything, paralyzed by the burning love that is overwhelming me, wrapping itself around me, slipping under my skin, into my veins.

"Now’s when you’re supposed to say yes!" he whispers to me, getting back his grin and that sassy look that I love so much.

"Yes, Vadim Arcadi. Yes, Vadim King. YES!"

Applause, shouts of joy, whistling.

I let my tears of happiness flow. Vadim slips the precious ring onto my left ring finger and throws himself at me. He lifts me up off the ground and spins me around in his arms. His lips welded to mine. Our hearts one against the other. You + Me soon united for eternity.

Mrs. King…

Alma Lucie Margaret King…

Sounds nice, doesn’t it?

In less than a month, Vadim and I will be united…

Butterflies. Tingling. Goosebumps. Idiotic smile.

28 days. 672 hours. 40,320 minutes. Inhale. Exhale.

"Alma, Clarence’s replacement is screwing one thing up after another: the screening room has been double-booked, so there's no way to view the rushes of the
Twirling
casting! Oh, and apparently, Lloyd has been waiting for you for twenty minutes for the weekly update," Sophie blurts out, opening my office door halfway. The week’s off to a good start…

"Damn, Alistair!" I gasp, jumping up out of my chair. "I’ve really got to stop daydreaming…"

"You’ve got a good excuse," Sophie giggles, staring at the big rock sparkling on my ring finger.

"Excuse or no excuse, I’m about to get hell," I sigh, motioning for her to follow me, as I stride down the hallway. "For the screening room, cancel this afternoon’s schedule and postpone it ‘til next week.
Twirling
takes priority over everything. We’re supposed to have finished casting in two days!"

"Maybe we should try hiring competent people if that's what we want," she grumbles, pausing in the doorway as I get in the elevator.

"Sophie, relax," I say, smiling. "Your Clarence is going to come back, his paternity leave won’t last forever."

"That's got nothing to do with it!" she says, getting huffy, as the steel doors close slowly. "I just mean that…"

Too late. Her shrill – but determined – voice no longer reaches me. The flying cage takes me to the top floor: towards my director’s office. I glance at my watch. Twenty-five minutes late. Ouch. Fifteen minutes might cut it, but not twenty-five…

I guess being the fiancée of Vadim King – the extraordinary, billionaire CEO – opens doors. And closes mouths. Alistair doesn’t complain about my tardiness; quite the opposite. He even speeds up the update, which is usually endless, complicated and terribly boring. My outfit – white top with shoulder pads, short skirt in coral shades, with matching Spartan sandals – gets his approval. And even a few compliments. Coming from a dandy like Lloyd, that is quite a feat!

Around noon, my King makes an appearance in my office, delightfully appetizing in his dark black designer suit. Our eyes meet and instantly a smile shows up on our two faces. Images of his marriage proposal come to mind and a little part of my heart melts.

"I’m just dropping in quickly – the production team is waiting for me," my dark hunk explains in his sexy voice as he comes closer to me.

"Barely engaged and already in such a hurry to leave me…" I sigh dramatically.

"Barely engaged and already temperamental…" he gripes, leaning towards me, placing his hands on the armrests of my swivel chair.

I’m completely surrounded. His muscular arms, his giant chest, his beaming face, his intoxicating scent: I can’t escape. My eyes are lost in his, his smile widens and overflows with sassiness.

"Believe me, Alma, if I had five free minutes, I would definitely make the most of them. By doing absolutely everything I want with you," he whispers in my ear.

His burning lips press against my half-open mouth and stifle the words of protest I was about to throw at him – just for fun. His warm tongue wraps itself around mine, his hands grip my waist and lift me to a standing position. I let myself be pushed up against the plate-glass window, knocking over a plant and a vase as we go, delighting in each second of the torrid kiss.

The cold glass stings my back, making me shriek, which produces an amused groan from my torturer. Then our embrace resumes, ever wilder, ever more dangerous. Chills run through me and a ball of fire grows in my loins. Suddenly Vadim decides to put an end to this heavenly torture. He interrupts our kiss gently, then pulls himself away from me, taking a few steps back.

"Damn meeting… I’m going to have a hard time concentrating. And I guess you’re proud of yourself?" he says, straightening his tie.

His sulky smile finishes me off. For a minute, I’m tempted to cuddle up in his arms, but when he runs his hands through his messy hair, the temptress slumbering in me wakes and the little game starts over again.

After all, he’s the one who started it…

"I’m just a little employee at your service, Mr. King. Your wish is my command," I say lustfully, wiggling before his eyes, to get him excited.

It works. Vadim gives me his metallic gaze, he looks me over quickly from head to toe, bites his lip, then does an about-face and walks away in his most manly stride, saying:

"Nothing in life is free, Alma. And I'm planning on proving that to you tonight…"

Little Clovis has his father’s caramel-colored skin and his mother’s blue eyes. Even though I’ve seen him something like ten times since he was born, I still can't believe my best friend is a new mom; and that she gave life to this little marvel, a perfect mixture of origins, colors, hope and love.

"Did you know Alexandre Dumas was mulatto?" Clémentine asks me, picking up her son. "Most people don’t know that, as if whitening him made him a better writer…"

"Clem, today most people don’t even know who Alexandre Dumas is," Clarence answers, handing me a cup of coffee. "Stop thinking about that, Clovis is only two weeks old…"

"I’m afraid they’ll give him a hard time at school," she mumbles, kissing her newborn. "Discrimination, and all that…"

"You should have thought of that before sleeping with Will Smith," her man jokes.

"Everyone gets kidded about something at school," I smile, trying to reassure her. "I used to get called the ghost."

"Why?" Clarence laughs.

"Because apparently I was too quiet. Sort of invisible, you know."

"Madeleine and Séraphine are redheads, like me. They’re definitely going to get it…" their mother sighs.

"You see? We can’t protect our kids from everything. A little joke here and there, it gives you character!" the black hunk philosophizes, yawning. "OK, I'm really sorry to be such a weakling, but I'm going to have to leave you ladies – it’s time for my nap!"

"Make the most of it because in two hours, it’s my turn," Clem tells him. "And the twins will be back."

"What joy," the new daddy grumbles, as he vanishes from the room.

My best friend has circles under her eyes, she has a bib on her shoulder, her hair is verging on dreadlocks, her tummy is far from being flat and yet, she is glowing. Which I point out… at my own risk.

"Oh, stop it, Alma, that’s a bunch of bull. Such a cliché!" she laughs, a little embarrassed.

"I don't think I've ever seen you so happy," I whisper, suddenly moved.

"He is the one you should tell," she whispers, rocking her son against her chest.

"A little miracle…"

"Yeah. And the next one will be yours. A mix of Vadim and Alma. He’ll be a heartthrob on the playground! And if it’s a girl… Oh my God, Imagine it! Well, her father will hire bodyguards, to make sure the little guys don’t get close to her," she says, laughing at her own runaway imagination.

"Don't give him any ideas!"

"Right, and what about the wedding?"

"It’s going to be a rat race for the next month! I mean, twenty-eight days… We’re both buried in work and I’m still in shock, but I’m going to have to give myself a real kick in the butt…"

"I can help you out for that kick in the butt…" my best friend smiles.

"Thanks but no thanks. I’d rather you help me make strategic decisions. Actually, Vadim has just hired a wedding planner. She doesn’t seem exactly accommodating, but apparently all the VIPs are snatching her up."

Daphné Legrand wears her name well. The 5 ft. 10 beanpole is as tall as she is thin. Very comfortable in her designer mini-skirt, the thirty-something woman with a strong character doesn’t let me get a word in edgewise. As for Vadim, he gets all the attention. Not only does the blonde drink up his every word, but she literally eats him up with her eyes.

Fortunately, hers are slightly cross-eyed…

Mean – me?

"Welcome to Château de Vaux-le-Vicomte!" our planner chirps. "After pulling some strings, I managed to free it up for the weekend you wanted. It was worth the hour-long drive, don't you think? The place is for the elite only, obviously, meaning you, Mr. King."

Vadim doesn’t even grant her a glance. His billionaire’s experience has made him indifferent to this kind of superficial remark, and stupid flattery. My handsome Russian is much too busy admiring the setting to reply. And so am I. The huge facade that stands before us makes my head spin. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an impressive building.

When he came to pick me up from Clémentine’s, after lunch, I had no idea what he was scheming. It wasn’t until we got out of the car, just ten minutes ago that I realized where we were.

"It’s a work of art," my lover murmurs, bewitched by the château. "This is where you’ll say 'I do'…"

I press up against him a little closer and catch myself dreaming. It’s incredible to imagine that the huge feudal construction – the biggest private property classified as a historical monument – and its four pavilions are opening its doors for us. That our wedding will be held here, in less than a month, with hundreds of guests. I ask Vadim to pinch me, and he does. I’m not dreaming – we burst out laughing.

For over two hours, we stroll hand in hand through the halls of this architectural treasure and its formal French garden. I get excited at every turn and my King just gives a few faint smiles. His big arms pull me towards him several times, lead me into remote corners where we kiss passionately, as if realizing for the first time what's going to happen. Again and again. In just twenty-eight days, I’ll be Mrs. King. I’ll belong to him, he’ll belong to me. Forever.

After that enchanted break, getting back to reality was… awful. It's 5 p.m., my feet are killing me and all those emotions have worn me out. Basically, I’m dying to get home and lounge around in my rooftop garden. Instead, the little Miss Perfect that I have for a conscience convinces me to make a quick stop at the office. I leave Vadim in the huge lobby – he is already deep in conversation with new investors, straight off the plane from New York. My CEO gives me one last glance as I slip into the elevator.

Oh, Vadim… That intense gray gaze of yours…

The Susan Bridges hurricane hits me and I come down off my cloud in a flash. Ouch! The fall is painful. The casting director, alias the biggest gossip of all King Prod, decides to let go of her phone for two seconds – despite it being grafted to her ear – to give me an update on the rushes that she has just screened. I listen distractedly, half my brain resisting.

The other half refuses to leave Vaux-le-Vicomte. And I wish I'd listened to it and just stayed there...

The express meeting ends within minutes. Susan is probably surprised by my lack of interest, but if she is, she doesn’t say anything about it. She leaves my office, clicking her heels loudly and waving her sheets of notes every which way. Noisy. That’s the word that sums her up best.

"Alma, Can I talk to you a second?" Sophie asks, appearing in my doorway.

"Sure, come on in. Everything all right?"

"Not really. I don’t feel like I have a place here anymore. You know, with everything going on at home…"

"Still no baby on the horizon?" I ask, as tactfully as possible.

My coworker doesn’t answer right away. She seems to be looking for the right words… or an excuse to get out of this conversation – which she happens to have brought up.

"Nothing to report," she finally sighs, biting the inside of her cheek.

I guess she's trying to hold it together…

"OK, I think this calls for going out for a drink with the girls!"

"It'll be a Virgin, for me, then…" she says, frowning.

"Virgin, you? Sophie Adam, would you be trying to pass yourself off as a nice, respectable girl by any chance?" I joke, being silly.

"That's exactly what I am. And what do I get in return?" she whispers sadly, pacing next to me.

OK, Alma. Stop joking. Right this minute.

"Lily and Pippa are on their way," I say, sitting down on the bright pink booth in the Ternes lounge bar.

"Pippa, your English cousin? Is she living here?"

"No, thank God!" I say, opening up the cocktail menu. "She’s just passing through. I love Pip’s, but she’s a professional pain in the butt. I can only handle her in small doses."

"Does Lily feel the same way?" Sophie giggles.

"It’s a little complicated. They are best friends one day, sworn enemies the next. It’s been that way for ten years…"

"Sounds like me and my sister. I haven’t seen her in ages, actually. She lives so far away and I’m stuck here with work."

"You could take a week off, Sophie. If you need to take a break, feel free. I’ll do what it takes to give you the freedom you need…"

"I know, Alma, you’re a doll," she whispers, fiddling with the little candle on our table. "Sometimes I forget you’re my boss the way you don’t have to torture your employees to get them to respect you. I admire you, you know. I envy you, too…"