The Billionaire's Daughter (8 page)

Being
a professional artist.
 
Now that
was a job that she’d love.
 
She’d
tried to take art classes but none of the teachers could show her anything
about painting that was of any interest to her.
 
She was a free spirit.
 
She didn’t want structure, and rules, and - and - and....

She
rolled on to her back and stared up at the ornate ceiling.
 
Her room had been decorated to her very
demanding specifications but it was she who had painted the ivy that climbed
her walls.
 
It appeared to wrap around
pretty white trellises and criss-crossed the ceiling.
 
It had taken many back breaking hours which became more back
breaking hours, but the time was insignificant.
 
The day she finished was one of the happiest of her life.

The
forest green carpet reminded her of deep grass from which the ivy sprung, and
the flowers that festooned her white furniture and four poster bed she had
painstakingly sketched, then painted in thick oils to give them a three
dimensional affect.
 
Staring at the
ivy always calmed her, and even now, overwhelmed by the events of the morning
she was able to lose herself in its tangled vines.

She
started to settle down and as she did so she began to regret her hasty
retreat.
 
As usual she had acted
impulsively.
 
Yes she had been
angry, but with just cause.
 
Surely
when she saw him again and explained he would understand.
 
He spanked her for heaven’s sake, hard,
and she’d taken it and even kneeled before him just as he’d asked.
 
What more could he want?

The
memory of the moment swam inside her and a dust devil sprang up, twirling in
her stomach.
 
It had felt so
amazing to be there - like that - kneeling in front of him.
 
She could feel her pussy react and
slipped her hand inside her tights. She closed her eyes, recalling how he had
fondled between her legs, his touch sending sparks through her loins just as it
had in the bath tub. Her fingers began prancing, moving against her clitoris in
a slow, practiced rhythm.
 

To
her surprise she found herself thinking about being across his lap, his hand
bouncing off her flesh, his lecture, his control and authority.
 
She was rubbing herself urgently,
feeling almost panicked the need for release was so great.

The
bubble was building fast and the more she thought about the spicy spanking the
higher and faster she found herself climbing.
 
The dam broke, and she let out a cry as the orgasm surged
through her body.
 
Her fingers
toyed and played milking the moment until the last short spasm died away.

 
Never had she climaxed so fast, and
never to such imagery.
 
She wished
he was with her now, enveloping her with his powerful arms.
 
She wanted to smell him, to taste
him.
 
And oh- how she wanted to
kiss him.

She
felt the threat of tears and was filled with regret.
 
What had she done?
 
How could she have been so impetuous and stupid?
 
Why hadn’t she just gone to the corner
as he’d instructed?
 
Would it have
been so terrible?

Amends.
 
She would find a way to make it up to
him.
 
He was her friend - for years
and years - besides the fact that he had turned into the most extraordinary man
she’d ever met.
 
She was sure he
would understand.
 

Rolling
on her side she hugged her pillow and resolved to make things right.
 
She’d take a quick shower and change
into something sweet and alluring then go and find him.
 
She’d apologize, even offer to lay
across his knee again and take her punishment for being so bad tempered.
 
The thought sent a tremor up her spine,
and running to the bathroom she stripped quickly and stepped into the shower.

Dante
was taking a nap.
 
The clothes were
exactly where they had landed when Kate had thrown her tantrum and tossed them
across the room.
 
He hoped she
would come to her senses soon, and then he would have to have a very serious
talk with her.
 
Such conduct would
not be tolerated again.
 

His
ankle was throbbing badly and stirred him from his light sleep.
 
Sitting up he leaned over to study it
and was shocked at the sight.
 
It
had swollen considerably and his skin was an ugly shade of black and blue.
 
He attempted to put some weight on it
but found it excruciating.
 
He was
in bad shape and he wondered if he had indeed, suffered a fracture.
 
Standing up he painfully hobbled to the
door and went in search of Cecil.
 
He needed professional medical help and he hoped Cecil would be able
drive him into town.

A
short time later, Kate, dressed in a clingy white silk top and pale blue
mini-skirt came bouncing down the stairs.
 
Her long legs were freshly moisturized and she wore no socks with her
white ballet slippers.
 
It may be
bleak and cold outside but she wanted to look bright.
 
Like the spring.

She
moved quickly to Dante’s suite, but hesitated when she reached the door.
 
Taking a deep breath she practiced her
apology in her head then knocked quietly and waited for a response.
 
When none came she wasn’t sure what to
do. Perhaps he was in the bathroom or taking a nap.
 
She knocked again, a little more loudly, but was greeted by
silence. She didn’t want to intrude but she was desperate to see him.
 
She knocked a third time, and finally
unable to stand it any longer she pushed down the handle and opened the door.

Tentatively
she peered in the room and called his name.
 
No response. The clothes she’d thrown at him in her
righteous indignation were laying exactly where they had landed.
 
Guiltily she walked past them and made
her way to the bathroom.
 
The door
was open and there was no Dante to be seen.
 
Turning back to the bedroom she decided to wait for him,
convinced he’d be back soon.

Slowly
she began to pick up the sweaters and shirts and pants laying on the
floor.
 
One by one she folded them
neatly, and when she was finished she sat on the bed wondering where he could
be.
 
She kept expecting him to walk
through the door but the longer she waited the more concerned she became.

She
thought back to her outburst.
 
What
was it he had said?

Apparently you’ve made your choice.

Panic
seized her.
 
Did he think she
didn’t want him?
 
A hand clutched
at her heart and she raced into the hallway.
 
Running through the house she called his name but was met
with silence.
 

Bursting
into the kitchen she looked around frantically.

“Miss
Hollister, is there a problem?”

The
voice came from behind her and Kate spun around.
 
It was Lois, the housekeeper and cook, coming in from the
laundry room.

“Cecil,
Dante, have you seen them - either of them?” she demanded.

Lois,
a kind woman who had been with the family for for many years, stared at the
young woman in front of her.
 
Kate
was extremely distraught and totally out of breath.

“What’s
the matter?
 
Are you all right?”
Lois asked, more concerned with the state of the young woman than Kate’s
question.

“I’m
fine,” Kate declared loudly, filled with frustration.
 
“Just tell me if you’ve seen them.”

Lois,
having known Kate’s temper and attitude for longer than she wished to remember,
did not react to the outburst.
 
Kate was a drama queen and that Lois knew all too well.

“Yes.
 
They left a little while ago.”

“Did
they say when they’d be back?” Kate asked anxiously.

Lois
shook her head.

“No,
but Dante was limping rather badly.
 
I doubt he’ll be back today.
 
Probably not for a while.
 
Not with that ankle.”

Kate
felt her heart sink.
 
She couldn’t
believe it.
 
She’d driven him out
of the house.
 
Cecil must have
taken him home, wherever that was.
 

Walking
dejectedly from the kitchen she made her way back to the guest quarters feeling
depressed and miserable.
 
She
picked up the pile of neatly folded clothes and headed up the stairs.
 
The very least she could do was put
them back.
  

She
walked down the long, deeply carpeted hallway and through the imposing double
doors that lead to her parents suite.
 
It was huge and grand, with expansive dressing areas for each of them on
either side of the room.
 
She entered
her father’s closet and put everything back exactly where she had found it.

Walking
back into the impressive bedroom she moved across to the window.
 
The weather was terrible.
 
The cold rain was still pelting down
and it was a dark, dreary day.
 
She
wondered where Dante was, where he lived, what his house was like.
 
Maybe he didn’t even live in a
house.
 
Maybe he lived in an
apartment.
 
He wondered how many
girlfriends he’d had. Had he spanked the other women in his past?
 

The
unanswered questions were making her a little nuts, and the thought of him
being with another girl made her crazy.
 
Sighing, heavy of heart, she decided to go back downstairs, back to his
room.
 
Whether he returned or not
it would never be the same again.
 
Nothing - would ever be the same again.

She
ambled dejectedly down the stairs, turned into the hallway and entered his
room.
 
She stopped at the couch and
stared at his bed.
 
There was an
indentation where he had stretched out.
 
She moved across, and climbing on the soft comforter she laid herself
out, taking up the space where his body had been.
 
She could smell him on the cover and prayed silently,
promising if he came back to her she would be a very good girl.
 

Just, please give me the chance,
she begged, she knew not to whom.

A
few miles away, after a long wait in the emergency room and exrays taken,
Dante’s ankle had been strapped up.
 
Much to his relief there were no broken bones but it was a nasty
sprain.
 
He was going to be laid up
for at least a week.

“I
think you should stay at the estate,” Cecil advised him, as they made their way
back to the car.
 
“I know Mr.
Hollister would insist on it if he were here.
 
You know he’s always looked upon you as the son he never
had.”

“Thank
you.
 
Actually Cecil, I haven’t had
a chance to tell you or Lois.
 
Mr.
Hollister has requested I stay at the estate and see if I can get a handle on
Kate.
 
Help her through this
difficulty - you know - being fired again.”

Cecil
suppressed a grin.
 
If anyone could
get a handle on Kate it would be Dante.

“I
think that’s marvelous,” Cecil replied.
 
“You always did have a way with her.”

“I
just - how should I put this - have a way of communicating.
 
Making things black and white.
 
Easy to understand,” Dante
answered.
 
“But I should warn you -
there may be some tantrums coming up.
 
If you hear her screaming bloody murder don’t worry and you needn’t come
running.”

“Oh
Dante,” Cecil replied, this time allowing his smile to surface.
 
“I certainly won’t worry in the
least.
 
And I shall let Lois know
as well.”

As
the car pulled out of the hospital on its way to Dante’s house to pick up his
clothing and other necessities, Dante wondered if Kate was past her anger.
 
She was bright and beautiful and he was
sure she was fixable.
 
But
ultimately the decision was hers.

Back
at the Hollister estate Kate had drifted off to sleep on Dante’s bed.
 
The events of the day had exhausted
her.
 
She dreamed of him - of his
lips touching hers - and being cradled in his arms completely forgiven.
 
When she finally stirred she found the
room in darkness.
 
Evidently she
had slept through the afternoon.
 
She stretched and yawned and sat up.
 
To her dismay he had not returned.
 
The scratchy tenderness of her bottom made her stomach do a
little dance.