Rendezvous with the Billionaire: A Billionaire Workplace Romance (4 page)

"Oh, god, do that again!" I gasped as he paid special attention to my clit. The slight abrasive brush of his whiskers against the tender flesh of my inner thigh only heightened the pleasure. I could feel myself surging up and up, the pleasure honing itself into a fine peak, and almost by surprise, he pushed me over, leaving me gasping and calling out his name as wave after wave of pleasure busted through me.

He pulled his head back, the evidence of my pleasure coated on his face, his eyes wild. He captured my tongue and surged into me while I still lay there, drunk from the pleasure. I felt beyond full, connected to this man in a way that I had never been connected to any other man before. He thrust hard and fast hitting me just right and keeping me in a constant wave of ecstasy. He held me down hard as he worked himself in and out, I couldn't help but thrust back wildly, unrestrained, full of passion. I had never felt more pleasure before in my life. There was nothing but the pleasure of this until it all coalesced into a fine point, exploding around us as he burst inside of me, pumping madly as we both reached our climax.

He collapsed beside me, one arm flung out over my chest, his hand resting on my still-clothed breast. Damn, and the night had only just begun.

At some point we made our way back to the bed. I was so limp with pleasure that I couldn't have said when, and when his hands got to searching, followed quickly once more by his tongue I didn't care. I lay there completely open to him, a wanton who existed only for pleasure. And Evan didn't back down, didn't rest until I was so far gone with it that I could not remember my own name.

Drunk on the taste of him, on the pure languid peace of my muscles, I drifted off to sleep with one of his arms wrapped around me, my back pressing firmly against his chest.

I meant to stay awake the entire night, to eek out every single moment of the experience so that I could remember that one amazing night with my billionaire boss. But I only realized that I was sleeping when I woke up just the tiniest bit. I thought I heard the door close which roused me just enough to realize that I was alone in the bed. I opened my bleary eyes and turned over, my hand pressing against the bed where I could have sword Evan had just been lying.

But his side of the bed was cold.

I sat up, wrapping the blanket around me to ward off the chill from the air conditioner. Already I could feel the goosebumps on my arms. All the lights were off, though a shaft of light pierced under the door from the hallway. I could still see the darkness beyond the window and the clock showed just after three AM. The room was absolutely silent. Evan had gone, I was alone.

Out of curiosity I got up from the bed, slid into the nice robe, and grabbed the key. I walked all the way down the hallway of the hotel, past the ice machine and back, but there wasn't anyone else out at such a late hour. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the bell of the elevator ding. I made my way back to the room, wherever Evan was, I had no clue.

The quick jolt of adrenaline or whatever that had woken me up wasn't enough to keep me awake and I slid back into the warm covers and closed my eyes without deciding to fall back asleep.

The next time I woke up with Evan's lips against my neck, his naked cock pressing into my back, and his hands trailing down into the already wet center of me. He slid himself inside me and I gasped, feeling full and near bursting with pleasure. When the climax came, I cried out, gasping out his name. And once more I fell asleep.

The final time, light shone on my face, the bright light of day waking me up. And once again I was alone. I took a shower and gathered my things. It was time to go home. But just after putting on one of the plush robes, I grabbed my phone and snapped a quick photo of me, with my still wet hair, the rumpled sheets of the bed half-visible in the background. Sure it was stupid, and no one was allowed to know what had happened. But even if it was just for me, I wanted the reminder of the night.

There wasn't a note from him, no cab fare or anything like that. And I was glad. I picked up all of my things and headed home with no evidence of the evening except for a bit of exquisite soreness and one impulsive selfie.

The Fallout

When I got home, the apartment was empty, an amazing happenstance on a Saturday morning. I slipped into my bed and fell asleep and just let the rest of the weekend fade away.

Monday morning should have been monumental. After all, I was going to see Evan for the first time since that explosive night, but he wasn't at the office when I arrived, and though I looked out for him more than I normally would, no one at the office seemed to know that anything was different.

Of course, nothing was supposed to be different, I had agreed to that. One night only, no strings, no talking. But it had been hard to keep the story from my roommates, I just wanted to brag and brag all weekend long. Unless Evan offered himself up to me again, then I could probably distract myself from the bragging.

But Monday took a turn for the weird and terrifying just before lunch. Two detectives from the NYPD came to the office and asked to speak with me in private.

Of course, my heart rate skyrocketed even though I couldn't think of any serious crime that I'd ever committed. Okay, yes, sometimes I watched TV over the internet without paying for cable, but I was pretty sure New York had enough crime to keep me towards the bottom of the list.

Detectives O'Hara and Santiago were waiting for me in one of the smaller conference rooms. Both women rose when I entered the room and Detective Santiago, a woman with blonde hair and bright blue eyes shook my hand. "Thank you for your time, Miss Bowen."

I nodded and sat, keeping my hands folded tightly in front of me on the table. I could actually feel my knuckles turning white, but I was so freaked out that I didn't dare loosen my grip.

Detective O'Hara, a woman with long black hair and olive skin sat down next to me. "Do you know Nicholas Bitterman?"

"Who?" The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it. I looked between the detectives. "Should I?"

But Detective Santiago didn't answer my question. "Where were you early Saturday morning, around three AM?"

"I was asleep." All expression dropped from my face two seconds after I said it. That wasn't a lie, and it wasn't the exact truth either. But I couldn't tell them I was with Evan Daringer. No way in hell would I keep my job if that got out. "I'm sorry, I'm not quite following you." This was just like being questioned on TV, except I wasn't at the police station and I didn't have a lawyer.

Should I wait to get a lawyer?

No, it wasn't like I could afford one, or that I even knew who to call.

"What is this--" I tried to ask, but my question was interrupted by the door opening. Evan stood on the other side, a perturbed look on his face. He took in the two detectives and me sitting there right in between them.

"I'm sorry, detectives." He didn't sound it. "We need this room. If you would like to speak to one of my employees, I will need to insist that you do it on their own time. I cannot spare them."

The detectives looked at each other, and then back at Evan. They never spared me a glance. After a very long moment, Santiago nodded and they stood. "Of course," said O'Hara. "I apologize for any inconvenience."

Santiago looked at me. "We'll call to reschedule." Both women left without another word.

And that left me alone with Evan. But he didn't say anything to me. At least, not anything important. With no recognition, he told me, "There's a meeting scheduled in here in ten minutes," and left without another word.

So that was that.

I wanted to chase him down, to ask him about his weekend, about his morning. But that was stupid and I knew it. One night, and it wasn't like I even liked the guy. I just was panties wettingly attracted to him. And now I had acted on it, and it was done. No big deal.

Very big amazing deal that I could never talk about, but in the grand scheme of things it didn't matter.

But what was up with the cops?

I made my way back to my desk and most thoughts of Evan slid into the recesses of my head so that I could focus on why two NYPD detectives thought I was so important to talk to. And who the hell was Nicholas Bitterman?

I punched his name into the search engine and the first article that came up told me he had been murdered.

Wait, did the cops think I murdered him?

There was very little detail, just that it happened in Manhattan on Friday and that he had been a high ranking executive at a design firm and the son of Michael Bitterman, some frozen food magnate. I caught sight of someone about to walk behind me and minimized the browser window before whoever it was could see that I wasn't working. My nerves were too frazzled to work.

But somehow I made it through the rest of the day. I didn't see Evan again.

Detective Santiago called to confirm that I could come talk to them in the morning, and I said yes, figuring that I had no other choice.

The commute that night seemed even worse than normal, every sound too loud, every person standing too close, and I wanted to scream at my roommates when I got home and they asked me what was up. Couldn't they see that I was holding on to my nerves by the barest margin?

The next morning an older woman waited for me outside my apartment. I thought she might have been around forty with long straight black hair tied back in a ponytail. Her light blue suit contrasted with her dark brown skin and when she shook my hand, it was a firm and polite handshake. Clearly professional.

"Miss Bowen, I'm Carmen Brown, I've been retained as your attorney for the current matter. If you would please come with me we can see that this is sorted out in as little time as possible."

I was frozen for a moment, my hand hanging uselessly between us after she let it go. It took a little while for me to find my words, and we were nearly in her car by the time I could say anything. "I'm sorry, I didn't hire a lawyer. I don't think I need one. I didn't do anything wrong."

Carmen pursed her lips and looked me up and down. "You're talking to the cops, you always need a lawyer. And I have been retained on your behalf by your employer. Now, if you please." She gestured to the back seat of her car. It looked like she had a driver. Damn, she had to be loaded.

I looked down at my knock-off shoes and the dress that was technically dry clean only but had needed to settle for being hand washed. Next to her designer getup I felt homely. I slid into the car and closed the door without saying anything else. She was right, and if work was supplying an attorney it meant I was probably in good shape.

"So what should I do?" I asked as we made our way through the busy streets to the police station.

Carmen took a moment to answer, "Just let me do the talking. With luck this should only take a few minutes and then you can be on your way to work and leave all of this behind you." She picked up her briefcase and dug around for a moment, she brought out an envelope and handed it to me. "This is for you."

It was a plain white envelope, completely blank, but unsealed. I pulled out the note inside. It had been printed out. Ms. Brown will help you. Follow her directions. No signature, nothing to tell me who it was from, but I didn't need to be told.

In his own way Evan was looking out for me, even if it was just to make sure he kept his privacy.

I would take it.

We arrived at the police station several minutes later and were shown into an interrogation room. It look just like I expected it to, cinder block walls covered in chipped gray paint, a metal table with four metal chairs, a bar on the table where handcuffs could be connected. I felt guilty just standing there, and I hadn't broken the law. If Carmen hadn't been standing there, just reassuring me by existing, I probably would have told them everything. Including my agreement with Evan.

And I thought I could keep a secret.

After letting us stew for a few minutes, Detectives O'Hara and Santiago walked in. They started asking the same questions, but now I knew it was my job to keep quiet and let my lawyer talk for me. And yet my heart was still nearly pounding out of my chest from a mix of excitement and fear.

"Thank you for coming to meet us so promptly," said Detective Santiago.

I almost responded, but Ms. Brown beat me to it. I guessed that I wasn't even supposed to cover pleasantries. "My client has taken time out of her workday to come answer your questions. She would like to cooperate so that this may be done as quickly as possible."

Santiago's lips thinned as she looked between me and Ms. Brown. But I still said nothing. But she didn't voice her frustrations. "Early Saturday morning, between two and four AM, where were you?"

"Miss Bowen was at the Hyperion hotel at the time mentioned." I nearly jumped in my seat when she admitted that. I hadn't told her, and I hadn't wanted to tell the cops. Oh god, I was so fired if Evan's name came up. "I would assume that she was captured on security footage at some point."

The detectives looked at each other but didn't confirm Ms. Brown's suggestion. "And can anyone confirm Ms. Bowen's whereabouts?" Santiago asked.

"I have just stated that she must have appeared on hotel security footage. My client has no connection to Mr. Bitterman, so unless you have some reason to believe that she is involved in your investigation, she needs to get to work." Ms. Brown's voice never rose, she didn't sound upset, but I knew that if she asked me in that tone I would probably do whatever she told me.

Detective O'Hara opened the folder she'd brought in with her. Though it had been sitting on the table for some time I hadn't paid any attention to it. "Mr. Bitterman had these photos on the memory card in his phone. Our techs found them."

"What the fuck?" It slipped out before I could even think to not speak. There were pictures of me from Friday night, standing around the hotel, going in, even up to entering the room.

"Are you accusing Ms. Bowen of anything? Do you intend to charge her?" I thought she was surprised, but nothing in her voice gave it away.

"At the moment we're simply trying to establish the chain of events," said Santiago.

"Then we are done here." And we left with no protest from the police.

On the way out to the car I trailed about two steps behind Ms. Brown. "I didn't know you could just leave an interview," I said.

She looked over her shoulder, opening the door to the outside for me and leading me to where the car waited for us. "Magic lawyer powers." We settled ourselves into our seats. "Shall I drop you off at home? Or near a subway station? Unfortunately I'm not headed near your office."

"The subway's good. I'll head in to work if it's all the same." I sat back in the seat and adjusted my seat belt. The cops had pictures of me, a murder victim had pictures of me from the night of his murder. And if I told the cops why I wasn't at home that night I would probably get fired. Hell, I'd probably never work in the industry again. "What do I do if the cops want to talk some more?" It came out thin, reedy.

Ms. Brown patted the seat between us and offered a supportive smile. "You call me. We'll need to talk before then. But don't worry. I am more than capable of keeping you out of trouble."

"You're not going to tell anyone at work about this, right?" I scrunched up the seat belt in my hands, wrapping it around my fingers and twisting the fabric.

"We are bound by attorney/client privilege. What you tell me stays between us."

That was...good. But I still wasn't completely safe. "What did..." I didn't even know if Evan had hired her and didn't want to give it away. "...they tell you when they hired you? Why did they do it?"

She folded her hands together and looked me in the eyes. "The executive that retained my services asked that they not be identified. I know nothing more than what you've told me and that you were at the hotel Friday night, but I've been around enough criminals in my line of work to know that you didn't kill that guy, even though you are hiding something. I don't care if you tell me, until it prevents me from defending you. Are we clear?"

I nodded, unsure of what to say. But she didn't say anything else to me and we rode in silence for the few minutes more it took to get me to the subway.

The entire way into the office I tried to figure out if Evan was my mysterious benefactor. It made sense, after all. I couldn't lie to the cops. And an attorney would make sure I didn't have to. I didn't for one second think he was doing it to keep me out of trouble, it was only to keep his name out of the press.

And if it wasn't him, then who could it be? No one else at the firm who could afford to retain an attorney at Ms. Brown's level knew who I was. Well, maybe in passing, but they wouldn't really care about me.

So it had to be Evan.

I was sure.

Or I thought I was.

And for a moment I let myself wonder, did I regret it? That night with Evan? The sex had been amazing, and before the police came calling the secrecy added a bit of spice that I didn't normally see in my everyday life.

If it weren't for the police I would do it again in a heartbeat. And if everything ended up okay, well, if he offered again I might consider it. Anger washed over me suddenly. I hadn't had time to feel it in the last day, but his desire, his mandate for privacy was preventing me from giving the cops my alibi and being done with it. And if it hadn't been for him, some dead guy probably wouldn't have photos of me on his phone the night before he was murdered.