The Billionaire Bundle (4 page)

They remained like that for a minute or two, Christina struggling to regain her composure. When finally she opened her eyes, she found the man staring at her in the mirror.  He gently turned her around, and when his gaze met hers directly for the first time, he leaned down gently and gave her a long, deep, full kiss that made her dizzy.  Pulling back from her, he once again met her gaze with his steely blue eyes, and quietly opened the door and slipped out.

Christina, alone now, stared unbelievingly in the mirror at herself.
Did that just happen?
She looked around her, the only evidence of his presence her dishevelled appearance and the relaxed, post-orgasmic glow on her face.  This man, this complete stranger, had awakened feelings in her that she had never experienced before.  She did not know his name, nor did he know hers.  It was all but certain she would never see him again.  Her body could still feel his touch, and even in the afterglow her skin longed for him already.  As she struggled to sort out her emotions, she composed her appearance and stepped out of the bathroom.  Back inside the car, he was nowhere to be seen.  At once relieved and a little disappointed, she found her seat again and sat down to finish preparing for her meeting with Courtney. 

Thursday morning, the day of her interview at Zuppan, dawned sunny and warm.  It was the kind of day that always made Christina wish a little bit that she was independently wealthy.  What she wouldn't give to be able to spend this entire day outdoors, taking in the sites of the city that were still new and seemingly endless to her.  In preparation for her interview, Christina dressed with special care, aiming for stylish as well as professional, and hoping that she would not stick out too much as a Midwesterner, but that she would manage to distinguish herself from the unknown number of other applicants.  She debated whether to put her hair up or leave it loose, ultimately deciding on the latter.  She knew that her hair was one of her best features, and after all, the job was as a personal assistant to a rich, powerful man.  No reason not to use all her assets to her advantage. 

In the train on the way to the interview, she couldn't help but think back to her unusual adventure of two days before.  The mere thought caused a throbbing between her legs, and she snapped herself out of it sternly, realizing that this was no time for distractions. 
Besides, you've thought about it plenty of times in the last couple of days, with help from your battery-powered friend,
she told herself.  It was true, the mere thought of the handsome and sexy stranger and what had transpired between them had had her running to her room and locking the door on several occasions since Tuesday morning.  She longed again for his touch, and wished against all reality that somehow she could see him again.  Truthfully, however, he hardly looked as though he lived in the suburbs, so she had to imagine that his being on that particular train was an unusual occurrence.  Sighing, she closed her eyes, cleared her mind, and concentrated on mentally preparing herself for the stressful interview. 

Upon her arrival at the Zuppan headquarters, she was met by a woman named Nora Stanton, who looked to be in her late thirties, was rail thin, drop-dead gorgeous and sophisticated, and whose exact title at the company Christina did not immediately ascertain. Ms. Stanton took her for a very brief tour of the offices, and then sat down with her in a conference room to ask about her qualifications and experience.  Christina, fortunately, interviewed well, and was able to convey her excellent organizational and communicative skills.  She assured Ms. Stanton that she possessed the discretion and the problem-solving skills necessary to serve as a personal assistant. "Well," Ms. Stanton mused, "You do come with excellent recommendations from your agency as well as your former employers.  You are short on work experience in this area, but I feel you have potential.  My role is to screen the qualified applicants and forward my recommendations. Of course, the final decision will rest with Mr. Mulrooney.  Please wait here."  Ms. Stanton clicked out of the room on her fashionable heels, and Christina waited, wondering what was next. After three minutes or so, the door opened.  In walked Ms. Stanton... followed by the man from the train.

"Mr. Mulrooney, this is Christina Jacobs.  She is one of the applicants for the position, and I felt that you should meet her.  Though her work experience in this area is a bit thin, she has the requisite clerical and administrative skills, and I feel she has potential," Nora Stanton said, glancing in Christina's direction.

Christina stood to greet him, stunned almost into silence. "Mr. Mulrooney," she managed to say, holding out her hand. 

The man from the train took his hand in hers, causing an electric jolt to shoot straight through to the core of her.  His blue eyes burned into hers.  "Ms... Jacobs, is it?"

"Yes," she breathed, willing herself to stay calm. 

"Nora, will you please leave us alone for a few minutes?  And please make sure we're not disturbed." 

"Certainly, Mr. Mulrooney," Ms. Stanton said with a quizzical look toward him.  Clearly, this was not the usual protocol.  She stepped out and closed the door.

"I..." Christina began, then stopped, not knowing how to continue.  Devon Mulrooney did not appear at all surprised by this chance encounter.  In fact, he was smiling the same sardonic way he had the morning on the train. Now face to face, she noticed how gorgeous and full his lips were, and found her breath speeding up slightly at the memory of them on her neck.  He looked her up and down approvingly, "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Jacobs.  May I call you Christina?" 

"Of... of course..." she replied, uncertain whether she was supposed to pretend whether they had just met. 

"You're even more appetizing now than you were two days ago," he teased her.

"How...?" she began, and then hesitated.

"How is it that we meet again so soon?” he finished her sentence with a slight smile. “I have been looking for a personal assistant for some time. The job requires working with me very closely, and therefore it's important that I screen all the promising applicants thoroughly.  Nora brings me the files of all the possible candidates, including their Google history and their pictures. In your case, I was... intrigued." 

"You mean, you were on that train on purpose on Tuesday morning?"

"Certainly," he said. "I wanted to catch you at an unguarded moment.  Once I saw you, I knew there was something about you I wanted to… explore." 

"But how... how did you know I would be on that trai
n at that time?" she demanded.

He laughed.  "Certainly you will realize that a man of my means has no trouble getting information. Nora was easily able to determine from your home address and your meeting with your staffing agency on Tuesday that you would be coming in on that train.  It wasn't very difficult from there."

Christina was stunned.  He, this gorgeous man, had actually planned their encounter. "You mean, you planned to..." 

He laughed again. "No, not exactly," he said, rising from his chair. "But once I saw you...
watched
you... I knew I had to have you.  I'm rather used to getting what I want, you see."  He moved closer until they were close enough to touch. "But it is rare that I see something that I want
this
much," he breathed into her neck. 

Christina's body responded immediately, helpless at his touch.  She arched her neck to meet his lips, her heart beginning to pound.  He took her in his arms and traced a line with his lips from her neck to her mouth, devouring her hungrily.  She moaned and reached for him, her fingers twining in his hair. 

He tore himself away from her mouth long enough to look at her. "You are so gorgeous, so sexy. I had to have you then, and I have to have you now." 

He lowered his lips to hers again.  Their tongues eagerly sought each other out, both of them drinking one another in with all their senses.  He pulled back again and slowly, deliberately undid the buttons of her blouse, taking it from her as she shrugged out of it and tossing it gently on the floor.  He reached behind her and unclasped her bra, tossing it away as well, and then lowered his head to her breast.  Slowly he licked and sucked one nipple as he gently caressed the other with his thumb.  She gasped and arched her back, pressing against his hardness as her need mounted.  Both of them were breathing in shallow gasps as they pressed against one another.  His lips trave
lled back to her neck as his hands slid beneath her skirt until he found her soft, hot opening.  She whimpered and pressed against him. 

He pulled back for a moment and stood to gaze at her.  "Take off your skirt," he breathed.  Without speaking, she unzipped the back zipper and let it fall.  "Now your panties."  She stepped out of them, and stood before him in only her thigh highs and heels.  He looked at her with lust in his eyes and stepped forward to devour her lips again, his hand reaching down between her legs to feel her need for him.  "Get on your knees," he breathed. 

Immediately she complied and unbuckled his pants. As they fell to his feet, she pushed his boxer briefs down as well.  She wrapped a hand around his stiff member and licked the shaft tentatively at first, then eagerly as she tasted him, taking the delicious length of him in her mouth.  He moaned as her tongue swirled around the tip, wanting to taste all of him at once.  She felt him throbbing in her mouth as she once again took the length of him.  He groaned and twined his hands in her hair, straining toward her as she took him deeper.  He began to shake and abruptly took himself out of her mouth, gently helping her up and laying her across the conference table.  Her moist, waiting opening welcomed his thick, swollen member as he entered her, and both of them cried out with the pleasure of it.  He thrust slowly at first, then as she strained toward him he went faster, deeper.  She clung to the edges of the table for purchase as he slid in and out of her, the two of them pulsing together, until she exploded in waves of pleasure and cried out.  He soon followed, groaning his release as he withdrew from her and shot his seed away from her before collapsing against her.  They held one another as the waves subsided, their breathing slowed, and the room came to a rest around them. 

Eventually, Christina felt Devon's body detach from hers. Opening her eyes, she saw him gently gather her clothing and lay them on the table next to her.  "Here.  We should probably compose ourselves," he said with a grin. 

A little embarrassed, but too sated to care, Christina smiled back at him.  He gathered his own clothing and began to dress himself.  "Christina," he said once he had dressed, "the job is yours. And not because of this.  Well... not
just
because of this."

Christina was silent; in her passion, she had forgotten completely about the job.  She wasn't sure how she felt about it anymore.  Why was he offering it to her? Could she ever believe that he had hired her only for professional reasons, or even mainly for them? 

He noted her silence and continued. "Christina, you will be my personal assistant.  I am not married, I don't have children.  I have no attachments.  What goes on between us is no one else's affair.  I will pay you generously, and I will expect your work to be exemplary.  You are the candidate I want for this position.  But," he continued, moving closer to her and breathing in the scent of her, "I can't be near you and not do this... and this," he continued, cupping her breast in his hand. "Mixing business and pleasure can be our little secret.  And I know you want it as much as I do."

"Yes," she breathed, "Yes, I do."

#   #   #

She first saw the job ad on Monster, in the Administrative Jobs category.  Tessa had been out of college for almost six months now, with very little to show for herself in the career department other than a couple of part-time retail gigs that were hardly enough for her to support herself on.  Despite good grades in college and positive letters of recommendation from her professors, her degree in Communications didn't seem to have made potential employers trip over each other in their desperation to hire her.  Of course, given the thousands of other Communications majors in her city who were probably all applying for the same jobs she was, she knew it was going to be an uphill battle to get herself in the door, at best.  Unfortunately for her, she didn't have the benefit of parents to move back in with, like most of her friends from college had done after graduation -- parents who kept their rooms pristine as a museum until their offspring flew back to the nest after their four-plus-year experiment with reality. 

Tessa's own parents were gone -- both of them killed in a car crash when she was sixteen. An only child, she had moved in with a friend's family in order to finish high school in her town.  The settlement from her parents' death was not large, but it did allow her to pay for most of her college expenses and graduate debt-free.  With the small amount left over, she was able to rent herself a tiny studio apartment and the luxury of living without a roommate.  Now, however, that money had run out before she had managed to find permanent employment, and Tessa found herself with limited resources, ambitious but increasingly desperate to find a way to get by. 

The ad was short, both to the point and disconcertingly vague:

"Short term executive assistant.  Excellent communication skills and professional appearance/demeanor required.  Willingness and ability to learn new job functions a must. Generous compensation, please provide photo."

She was intrigued by the "generous compensation" part -- after all, who wouldn't be, especially a financially-challenged young woman such as herself.  But Tessa was caught short by the "please provide photo" bit. Oh, great, she sighed to herself.  They wouldn't even wait until she had an in-person interview to judge her; these people wouldn't even let her get in the door once they realized she wasn't the stick-thin, perfect little sorority-girl type they were no doubt looking to hire. 

For the millionth time in her life, Tessa silently fumed at how society was so quick to judge people, especially females, on their looks.  She knew she wasn't built like a fashion model, but it's not like she was a whale or anything.  Tessa gazed at her reflection in the window of the cafe where she was working on her job applications. Her long, dark hair was put up in a stylish bun, revealing her heart-shaped face and cupid's bow mouth.  Her glasses partially hid her dark blue eyes, which were offset by the royal blue sweater set and patterned scarf she had on today. Her dark jeans tapered down to fitted, knee-high black boots. Tessa's mother had had generous curves as well, and had always told Tessa that one of the classic mistakes bigger women made was to wear large, tent-like clothing, rather than pieces that fit them well and accentuated the positives of their figure.  Tessa's mother had always looked beautiful -- to her, at least -- and Tessa herself had always tried to keep this advice in mind when shopping for clothes.
Just because I'm bigger, doesn't mean I don't deserve to look nice
, she told herself sternly.

Tessa's gaze wandered from the window back to her computer screen.  Her brows furrowed in defiance. 
Fuck it
, she thought.
Let them reject me. I'm not ashamed of myself.
Determinedly, she opened up a copy of her application letter, tailored it as best she could given the lack of details in the posting, and before she could second-guess her decision, uploaded her application materials and the photo she currently had as her Facebook profile picture.  Pressing send, she sighed, and with a gesture of finality, snapped her laptop shut. Suddenly in need of a change of atmosphere, she gathered up her things and treated herself to a mocha in a to-go cup.  Back out on the street, Tessa took a deep breath in the late-autumn sun and walked the few blocks to a downtown park to watch the ducks and drink her treat. 

Tessa had forgotten about the mysterious ad when, a little over a week later, she received an email from a man who identified himself as an assistant to Mr. Ian Morgan regarding her job application. The man asked her to phone him to schedule an interview with Mr. Morgan the following day in the late afternoon.  Tessa called the number and confirmed that yes, it was indeed Tessa Quinn that Mr. Morgan wanted to see.  Too shocked to do anything but confirm the time and take down the address, Tessa hung up in a daze. 

Looking up the address on her phone, she found it to be in one of the tall office buildings downtown.  This was much more high-powered than she had expected, and she realized her current interview suit might not be adequate.  Tessa began to panic, and called her best friend Megan and asked to meet her at their bar for a dose of moral support.

Now, sipping their cocktails and casting the occasional glance at their cute bartender, Megan, ever practical, listened as Tessa told her about the mysterious ad and the phone call.  When Tessa began to lament her lack of a nice enough suit and fret that she had no possibility of getting the job, Megan stopped her short.  Addressing Tessa sternly, she said, "Tess, stop it! A week ago you didn't even think you had a chance of them calling you.  Now you have an interview and you're already sure you're going to bomb it before you even get in the room.  It's One. Interview.  If nothing else, it's great experience.  No matter what happens tomorrow, it's one hour out of your whole life. Chill out."

Tessa marveled, as she often did, at how Megan could always be so calm and philosophical about everything.  She wished she herself could possess half of the
sang froid
her friend seemed to have.  Sighing, she said, "You're right, Megs.  I need to just take this as a life experience thing.  But it's pretty hard to do that when I'm eating Easy Mac four nights out of seven, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Megan smiled.  "But someday you'll look back at this struggle from your luxurious mansion, and it will seem so far away.  And your shameless martyr performance worked.  Drinks are on me." Megan wouldn't take no for an answer, conceding only that Tessa could return the favor once she got the job with Ian Morgan.

The next day, Tessa found it hard to focus; she was on pins and needles waiting for the late afternoon interview time to arrive.  Why couldn't Mr. Morgan have wanted to see her bright and early, so she could have just had a tortured, sleepless night and gotten it over with?  Around 3:00, Tessa got in the shower, shaved her legs, put a deep conditioner in her hair, and groomed herself with great attention.  She applied her makeup carefully, and fretted a bit over her slim wardrobe choices.  Eventually she admitted to herself with a sigh that she had no choice but to wear her interview suit, a dark gray blazer and matching skirt, which she paired with a deep red silk blouse -- her one divergence from a conservative look.  She fretted about whether to wear her hair up or down, and finally decided that she felt more confident with it down.  A pair of black sling-back heels completed her look, and at a little after 4:15 she left her apartment for downtown. 

Tessa arrived at the building about ten minutes before her interview was scheduled, and was surprised to see that it was not an office building, but a residential high-rise.  Walking into the main floor lobby, she checked in at the front desk and was directed to wait while the guard called a number.  He spoke a few words into the receiver, then hung up and smiled at Tessa.  "Thirty-eight floor, the penthouse directly facing the elevator. You can take elevator B up." 

Tessa did as she was told and arrived at the thirty-eighth floor, steeling herself and then knocking firmly on the door the guard had indicated. After a moment, the door opened, and a tall, handsome man opened the door.  "Ms. Quinn," he said with a smile.  "Please come in."

The man before her might have been anywhere from thirty-five to fifty years old.  His build was tall and athletic without being overly broad.  His eyes were light, possibly hazel, and his light brown hair was just beginning to turn gray at the temples. He was dressed in dark pants and a royal blue shirt, no tie, and well-polished black shoes. The man opened the door wide and motioned her through. Only when he closed the door behind her did she suddenly realize that this must be the owner of the penthouse.  This must be Ian Morgan. Somehow, she had expected to be greeted by a secretary and brought to the man. That he opened the door himself meant she might be here all alone with him. In a strange apartment, with someone she didn't know at all -- whose name might not even be Ian Morgan -- and no one knew where she was. Good God, how stupid was she? Suddenly wary, Tessa was trying to think of what she could do to escape if he turned out to be a rapist or serial killer when the man's smooth voice cut into her thoughts.  "Would you like a drink, Ms. Q
uinn?”

She was about to refuse, but thought better of it. If this was a legitimate interview, better to put herself on a more equal footing with him. "I'll have a sparkling water, if you have it."

"Club soda alright?"

"Yes, thank you."  Tessa took a moment to look around as he disappeared into the kitchen. The furnishings were rich, done in dark browns, deep reds and metal finishes.  It was definitely the apartment of a man who lived alone.  Tessa felt discreetly for her phone, moving it to a pocket of her handbag where she could casually press her friend Megan's speed dial in an emergency.  Her senses were on high alert when Mr. Morgan came back, holding two club sodas. He offered one to her. "Please, sit down," he said, motioning her to a chair.

She sank into a dark leather chair, trying to project more confidence and strength than she felt.  With a boldness that surprised her, she began the interview herself.  "So, Mr. Morgan, can you explain to me what the job you advertised specifically entails? The posting was not very detailed. It mentioned only that this was a short-term position."

He smiled and arched an eyebrow at her before replying, "Yes. The position is for one month."  Tessa's heart sank at such a small time frame, but decided the best thing to do was to keep going as if it was her ideal job.  "And the position is as your personal assistant?"

"That's correct.  It's a somewhat... unusual assignment.  It's something only a very special person will be able to do for me." Mr. Morgan leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs and setting down his drink on a side table.

"I see.  And what is that assignment, Mr. Morgan?"

"Please call me Ian.  May I call you Tessa?"

"Of cou
rse," she replied with a tone of relaxed confidence she did not feel. 

"Tessa, tell me.  What has been the most exciting experience of your life so far?" Ian asked her, cocking his head slightly to one side and looking at her with interest. 

So this is how the interview begins, Tessa thought.  Determined to roll with his unusual question, she thought briefly through her life. "I suppose going skydiving." She smiled a little at the memory.  It was on the last birthday she had with her parents. Her father had taken her out for the day and bought them both skydiving lessons. 

"What did you like best about it?" Ian probed.

She considered the question, and assumed he was asking it with a psychological motive.  She answered honestly. "Well, I'm the kind of person who likes to be in control, generally.  I like to feel like I have everything organized, and I hate not knowing what's going on.  But... I don't know.  There was something about just having to completely... let go, give in completely to the unknown, embrace my fear.  It was exhilarating.  I'll never forget how that felt." Tessa could feel her skin almost crackle with electricity at the thought.  It was almost sexual, that kind of thrill. 

"So... you ultimately like giving up control," he said, his voice growing husky, unreadable.

"Sometimes, yes.  I didn't know that about myself until that day." The man's question had caught her off guard, his velvety voice somehow encouraging her to drift away into her memory.  Suddenly she snapped back into the present, aware that she had wandered. Her face reddened, and she hoped he would not notice.

"Tessa," he continued, his voice becoming softer, more intimate. Listening to him say her name in his velvety, soft manner made something strange happen inside her -- his voice was suddenly a lover's voice, caressing her, making her long for his mouth to brush against her skin.  She shivered, and felt a warm tongue of heat stroke her between her legs. Tessa shifted restlessly as she felt herself grow moist.

"Tessa," he purred again, "I have a very unusual proposition for you. I want you to know that you are in no danger, and that what I am going to propse, you are of course free to refuse and leave at any point in this conversation. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she responded, a heady mixture of mingled apprehension and excitement licking at her.

"Tessa, what I am looking for is a companion.  Someone whose body will be mine to enjoy and give pleasure to for one month.  You, I hope, will be that person.  Your photo made me very much want to meet you.  Now that you are here, I find you even more enticing in the flesh.  You have the kind of gorgeous, womanly curves that I particularly enjoy, and I find you quite intoxicating.  Let me explain my proposition.  If you agree, you will sign a contract for one month, during which time you will be given a furnished apartment and all your needs will be taken care of at no cost to you.  I will have full access to your apartment, and to you, at all times.  You will not be hurt in any way, I assure you.  At the end of that month, assuming neither of us wants to renew our contract, you will be allowed to keep any clothing that has been given to you, and will be paid a sum of $100,000 as compensation."