The Final Seduction (The Billionaire's Way) Book 3 (6 page)

Janice is really beautiful. She looks as though she was once a model herself. As we catch a reflection of each other in the lobby mirror, I realize that I am certainly not model material. I consider myself reasonably attractive. But I am certain not one of these six foot swans with perfect tits and a perfect ass. Fame is certainly the skeleton key to opportunity!

We arrive at the top floor of the building. The door opens and an entire room full of, mostly women in impeccably dressed attire - applaud my presence. Damn, it looks like the entire modeling agency is here to meet me.

An attractive and familiar looking woman - in her 50s - walks up to me. Oh my God, it is Julilette Romaine herself! The CEO of the damn modeling agency is here to meet me. The modeling agency legend extends her hand and says, “Sarah. We are honored to have you meet us.”

I am taken to a large glass conference room overlooking Soho. The women sort of look at me like a piece of meat. Being a hot property can really make you feel like some sort of prey out in the Serengeti.

Juliette wastes no time making me feel like a queen. I am seated at the head of the table while a glass of sparkling water is placed in front of me.

“Before we start with the meeting, we first have to applaud you for what you did to J.T. Marcos,” Juliette proclaims. The room burst with applause. Damn, that film director really had a problem with women.

The CEO goes on to explain, “I know three models who were physically abused by that piece of shit. And rumors were that he had raped more than a couple of actresses.” Juliette then leans in and smiles. “Tell me. How did you get your boyfriend to fuck him up like that?”

Oh wow, if they only knew the truth. Well, this is not the time to be forthright. Let’s face it, one big component of fame is to build your own mystique. I smile and take a drink of water. The entire room is anxiously waiting for an answer on how I supposedly sicced Mr. Peak on that director. After letting the room fill with silence for a good ten seconds, I say, “Inside every man is a wild tiger. When a girl knows how to tame and train that tiger, she can unleash that animalistic power at will.”

The women look at me like the wise Sage of feminist power. Considering that I am the youngest girl in the room, this is beginning to freak me out. Nevertheless, everyone seems to be in awe of me.

Juliette begins to walk around the massive table as she calmy launches into her pitch. “You already know many of our most famous models. Just about all of them were discovered on the streets or in night clubs. Today all of them have stellar careers in modeling, acting and other enterprises. That means, we know how to cultivate talent.” Juliette sits down next to me and takes my hand. “I will personally make sure you will become the biggest name in fashion and modeling. Companies will kill to have you work for them. You will be adored by the entire world.”

Damn, she is good. I look around the room. All of these people are waiting for me to say “yes.” The most famous woman in the modeling world looks at me with a ferocity that frightens me. She is seducing me with things that not even Mr. Peak could offer.

An assistant hands the agency legend a leather bound portfolio. Juliette opens the leather bound portfolio. Inside is a check. There are lots of zeros on that check. I grab the check and look at the amount -
five hundred thousand dollars
. Even Mr. Peak would not want me to turn down this opportunity.

“Where’s the pen?” I ask. The entire room explodes with applause and activity. Several women stand up and begin to make calls. Someone takes a photo of me with Juliette. Another woman walks into the conference room with a cart full of champagne.

“We are so glad to have you in the family!” Juliette says as she gives me a hug. All these attractive women begin to hug me and hand me glasses of champagne. I almost want to cry. I’ve spent my entire life being unspectacular in every way possible - average grades, average looks and average ambition. Now, all these sophisticated New York girls huddle around me like I’m the queen bee.

Before I know it, Juliette is talking about booking me gigs. “You’ll be shooting a spread for Chloe. They are already dying to get you in their Fall Collection ad campaign,” Juliette tells me. Oh my goodness, things are moving so fast.

I look down at my phone and notice about a dozen messages from Mr. Peak’s office. Uh oh. I call Mr. Peak’s managing director.

“Hello, Elliot.”

“Sarah. Where are you?!”

“I’m, uh, doing some business.”

“Mr. Peak is looking for you. You have to get down here. Mr. Peak doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Yeah, tell me about it.

***

I take the car over to Mr. Peak’s office at Columbus Circle. After thinking about it for a while, I decide to not tell Mr. Peak about my new modeling career. He will most likely be thermonuclear that I was out of the townhouse when he called for me. All I can say is, life is not boring when you are Mr. Peak’s gal!

As soon as I get out of the car, Mr. Peak’s New York managing director grabs me and rushes inside of the building.

“Where were you?! He’s pissed.”

“I signed on to a modeling agency!” I blurted out. Damn, I just couldn’t help myself. I’m so excited my mouth betrayed me.

We hurry into the elevator. The managing director gets on his phone and says, “Please tell Mr. Peak that Miss Sulamari is on her way up.”

We get to the forty-second floor. The managing director rushes me past the trading floor, down the hall and over to Mr. Peak’s gigantic corner office. My broad-shouldered boss is pacing the floor like a caged bull.

“Thank you, Elliot,” Mr. Peak says as the managing director makes a quit exit.

Mr. Peak walks over to me and picks me up. He carries me across the room and sits me right on top of his desk. My boss rips open my shirt and grabs my breasts. He begins to kiss my neck. I spread my legs apart. Mr. Peaks begins to rub me just the way I like it.

My boss runs his hand into my underwear and begins to finger me. I lie back onto the table and moan like a virgin. Fuck. He is so nice with his hands. He stares at my face as I begin to pant. I grab each end of the table and scream my approval.

As Mr. Peak fingers me, he chokes me with his other hand. “You don’t know how to pick up your phone, Sarah?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Peak,” I say as my boss fingers me so nice and fast that I cum like a teen on prom night.

Mr. Peak slides his fingers from my underwear and pushes me off of the table. I fall to the ground in a puddle of ecstasy. My boss strolls over to his personal bar and takes a celebratory drink of Chardonnay. I crawl across the room and beg Mr. Peak for a drink. He lifts me up and hands me a glass. “Thank you, Sir,” I tell my boss as I take a cool sip of the white wine.

“So do you enjoy being famous?” my boss asks me.

I smile a little and can’t help be honest. “I do indeed love it, Sir.”

“There is a lot of upside - money, adoration, attention, approval from the masses,” my boss explains.

“Yes, a lot of upside, Mr. Peak,” I concur as I take another sip of the wine.

My boss walks up to his desk, grabs a large white envelope and tosses it in my direction. I drop the wine glass as the envelope hits me in the chest. “Welcome to the downside of fame, Sarah,” Mr. Peak says as the envelope lands at my feet.

I look at the envelope. What the hell can be in there? What downside is waiting for me? I don’t want to pick up that envelope. I don’t want to know that my great life can be shattered. Everything is too perfect right now.

As much as I don’t want to know the downside, I must always obey my boss. I bend over and pick up the envelope. I open it. Inside are large 8 x 11 photos of me walking around New York City. There are more photos of me back in L.A. before I worked at the Peak Fund. I start to get scared. I look inside the envelope and find more of photos of me as a teenager in Thousand Oaks, California. Good God. What the fuck is all this?!

I look back into the envelope and find papers that describe everything about me. They have my address at Venice Beach. There are records of my previous jobs at the Coffee Bean and Burger King. It’s very disconcerting to find your entire life in one envelope.

“You are being tracked,” Mr. Peak says bluntly.

“By who, Sir?”

“I don’t know. This envelope came to me from a mercenary whom I’ve hired in the past. The packet was left at his home in Costa Rica,” my boss says as he walks up to me and takes the envelope. “You only contact a man like that if you want someone kidnapped or killed. Someone wanted him to kidnap you. Right now, I currently have people looking into the matter. For the moment, however, we don’t know who exactly is coming after you.”

My legs get weak. I have to grab onto the bar just to prevent myself from crumbling to the ground. “My guess is that someone wants to use you to get to me. I am bringing in hundreds of millions of dollar a month, in oil revenue, from Odostan. You would be the perfect target for a ransom,” my boss says as those words just hang there in the air.

“What should I do?” I ask.

Mr. Peak looks at me for a long moment. Then he lays down the options. “There is an easy solution and a not-so-easy solution. The easy solution is to withdraw you from public life - no more social parties, no more public events. You would be my secret plaything kept under lock and key, surrounded by a staff of ex-Special Forces soldiers who would ensure your protection. The not-so-easy solution is to, well, keep you out there and draw out the enemy. You would seduce the enemy and then turn the tables on them.”

My first thought is that I could never give up the fame that has come along with the fortune. My second thought is that I could be killed. It takes me a moment to weight both options. Then I look into my boss’s eyes. As long as I am in hiding, the threat will still be in the shadows. My boss has trained me to be the predator, not the prey. I am the
femme fatale
not the damsel in distress. Even though I am scared down to marrow of my bones, I know what I need to do.

“Sir, I am ready for this mission,” I tell my boss.

“Good girl.”

“What should I do?”

“You will go about your usual routine with a few modifications to your person,” Mr. Peak says as he walks up to me. My boss pulls a pen out of his pocket, he presses the button at the top of the pen. A five inch blade jets out of the tip. He holds the blade right up to my cheek. “If you feel threatened by anyone, tear a hole into their face. I don’t give a fuck who it is,” my boss says as he hands me the pen.

I nervously grab the clever weapon and stare at it. Mr. Peak reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small case.

“What is in there, Sir?” I ask.

Mr. Peak opens the case and shows me a set of fingernails. He picks up one of the nails and grabs my forearm. He begins to slowly scrape the nail against my flesh. “These nails are made from carbon fiber. It is super-lightweight, super-strong and super-sharp at the tip. You will have ten blades at your fingertips. My advice. Go for their eyes. Gouge them. Blind them. Then run away.”

Mr. Peak hands me the fingernails. My body begins to shake with anticipation. “Of course, it would be optimal if you don’t have to use any of these weapons,” Mr. Peak explains. “Find out who is targeting me. Once you find out that information, I’ll be able to sic the wolves on those motherfuckers.”

Dammit. I am so fucking attracted to my boss right now.

As I look at the weapons in my hands, I realize that now is a good time to tell my boss about the modeling career. Things have gotten so serious that there should be no secrets between us. “Mr. Peak, I need to let you know where I was this morning,” I say as I steady myself for any explosion of rage my from boss.

“And where exactly were you this morning?”

“I was invited to the Juliette Agency. They signed me on to be a model due to all of the publicity I’ve gotten this past week.”