The Return of the Tycoon (5 page)

Nick was standing behind her now, and she could feel his hard penis see
king out her wet hole.  “Yes,” he breathed, fi
nd
ing it and forcefully driving
himself inside her from behind.

In response, Julie thrust her smooth little bare bottom back against him, taking him as deep as she could.

“I hate you,” she
half-sobbed, her face bu
ried in his shirt, her voice drowning out in her own moans of pleasure.
Nicholas nearly lost control at the sound of her voice. He loved making her come that way, and hearing her
moans
was nearly enough to send him over the edge.

If he had to choose between her orgasm and his, he’d choose hers any day. He slowed down, willing himself into a steady rhythm. His heart pounding inside his chest, he moved in and out of her, one warm thick inch at a time.

As he slid in and out of her, he reached up and caressed he
r shoulder with one hand.  “Y
ou believe me now,
huh
?
Or it’s still not enough.
”

In response, Julie practically growled
back at him, “No
,” and she continued to thrust her ass back against him, urging him to quicken his pace again. 

Hearing this, he grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, and resumed pounding himself into her with powerful thrusts, his body slapping against hers and pushing her roughly against the table’s sharp edge.

             
At last, when he sensed that he could not last much longer, he breathed urgently to her.  “Come for me.” And gasping and pushing back furiously against him, Julie did as she was told. Nicholas felt her clenching around him and he released his grip on her hair so that he could reach around and cover her mouth with his hand, muffling the sound of her pleasure.

Then finally, as he felt her wetness spreading out and down his hard shaft, he let himself have his release, and the feel of it bursting inside her sent Julie shuddering once more.
He lay on top of the table right next to her as they both remained silent except for the sounds of their heavy breathing.

“I think you like that,” he finally said.

“It was okay,” Julie lied, still resentful of him.

“
You believe me now?” he
asked.

She sighed.
“The fact that you even came back here shows something. But the short answer is no,” she said.

Chapter 6

“You can’t be serious!” Amy exclaimed on the other side of the line. “You can’t get back with
him
! Nick Maxwell cheated on you.” Julie shifted uneasily, moving the phone to her other ear.

“I didn’t forget, Sis,” she told Amy. “And don’t get me wrong, I don’t trust him entirely. But I don’t know; I ran into him, and he just caught me. I knew it was stupid, but I couldn’t help it.
And I’m still resentful of what he did but he’s showing some signs of hope. M
aybe he can change?”

“You don’t sound very confident. So where is he taking you again?” Amy asked.

“I don’t know,” Julie answered, making her way to the bathroom to grab her makeup bag. “He says it’s a surprise, and I should take enough clothes for a weekend. He’s trying to convince me he’s changed and wants to get back with me.”

“Oh, God,” she heard Amy groan. “What about work?” Amy asked. “How could you possibly get a whole weekend off? The hospital is understaffed. They’ll never let you leave.”

“He cleared my schedule,” Julie answered, packing her toothbrush in a travel container and slipping it in the makeup bag.

“What? How?”

Julie sighed. “He owns Legacy Emanuel now,” she explained. Amy groaned again, this time even louder.

“Christ!” she exclaimed. “He’s your boss too? You know this isn’t going to work, right?” Julie felt herself grow hot with indignation. Why couldn’t Amy just be positive? Then, she didn’t have to dig too deep to find the answer to that one. When Nick cheated on her, Amy was the one who flew in from Florida to support her. Still, Julie felt more and more resentment as she talked to Amy. Was it because Julie didn’t feel supported? Because Amy was not giving Nick a fair chance? Or maybe because deep inside, she knew Amy was right?

“It would be nice to get a little support once in a while.” Julie regretted the words the moment they left her mouth.

“I
always
support you!” Amy insisted. “Remember who you called all those nights when Nick was too busy making his millions to be bothered with you. Or have you forgotten that too? He didn’t
just
cheat on you, you know. That was only the coup de grâce. He is a workaholic. Too busy for you. Never around. People rarely change, you know.”

“I have to go,” Julie snapped, her patience having worn completely. Sometimes, she wished Amy didn’t have to be so honest all the time.

She flipped her laptop open, deciding to transfer some money into her checking account. Julie thought about Nick and the time they had the night before. It seemed for a second they were back in the old days. When she was with him at Geraldi’s,
the beer and the reminiscing made her forget.

But when she woke in his penthouse the morning after it didn’t feel like Nick anymore, it was Nicholas Maxwell. The Nicholas Maxwell who didn’t want a real relationship. The Nicholas Maxwell who
was too busy for her
.
The Nicholas Maxwell who sold her out in the worst possible way.
That’s what he had devolved into based on what Julie heard, and she’d be well advised to remember that.

It was appalling how he could have changed, and Julie saw the signs of those changes when she was with him. But Nick was a good guy. A guy who would stay awake late into the night to read science-fiction stories to her, who ate anything she cooked regardless of how experimental it was, and who sang along to the Cure when he thought no one was listening. That Nick made her comfortable in a way no one else ever had. Didn’t he deserve a second chance just for that, even if a slim one? She wasn’t sure.

She glanced at her watch. Nick would be here anytime now. Her account information finally loaded, and Julie scrolled down to make the transaction. At the sight of her balance, she nearly fell off the couch. Clamping her hand over her mouth, she stifled any sounds that came out. This couldn’t be right. Jumping to her feet, Julie hurried to her desk where she kept her bank statements.

On the desk, Julie searched through the mail. She knew she’d seen her newest statement in today’s mail. Her hand grazed over an envelope. It was from her student loan holder, which was strange because her bill wasn’t due for another few weeks. Sliding her index finger under the lip, Julie tore it open. She had to sit down when she read the letter.

It thanked her for her business and informed her that her account had been closed with a zero balance. Paid off? She scrutinized the name and address to make sure it was really meant for her. Finding her name on the envelope, she scratched her head. But that didn’t make any sense. She still owed money, a lot of money. Julie had calculated she would be almost forty by the time this day came.
How could it have been paid off? Did Nick…?

Someone knocked on the door
.

***

It all made sense now. Julie dropped the letter on the desk. Nick paid off her student loans and God only knows what else and then dumped more money than she knew what to do with in her checking account. But how did he get her bank account number? She didn’t even know you could do that. Julie’s pulse quickened and her face flushed red with anger.

Why did he have to make everything about money? She wasn’t one of his two-bit whores. She might have a lot of debt, but she was self-sufficient, and she didn’t need a sugar daddy. Jumping up, she ran to the door and threw it open, intending to give Nick a piece of her mind.

However, the older, wiry man on the other side of her door wasn’t Nick. “Good afternoon, Miss Miller.” He politely tipped his hat. Without a word, he brushed past her, picking up the overnight bag off the couch and heading back out the door.

“Wait,” Julie cried, stumbling after him, down the steps of her apartment building, and to the waiting limousine at the curb. “Where’s Nick?” Julie already knew the answer when the driver spoke. His words sank to the pit of her stomach, feeding the growing dread there.

“He had an important meeting that couldn’t wait,” her driver informed her. “He said to take you to the airport, and he’ll meet you there.” The driver held the door open for her after depositing her knapsack in the trunk. Julie remained rooted to the ground. Instead of showing up on time to be with her, Nick—or rather Nicholas Maxwell—had dumped a lot of money in her lap. Julie couldn’t help feeling a cold sense of déjà vu wash over her. Maybe Amy was right. People rarely change.

“I can’t.” Julie looked pointedly at the limo’s open door. “I need to talk to Nick first.”

“Mr. Maxwell said he’ll meet you at the airport,” the driver repeated. “If you want to talk to him, I suggest you get in, Miss Miller.” Julie sighed. Nick had to understand she wanted a real relationship, not one where her affections could be bought. She would talk to him tonight. Amy might have been right that people rarely change, but the operating word was
rarely
, not
never
.

“Julie,” she told the driver, ducking her head as she got in. “Just call me Julie, not Miss Miller.”

“Of course, Miss Miller,” the driver nodded before shutting the door.

Chapter 7

Julie sat in Nick’s private jet alone, sighing as she looked out the window. She could barely make out the Golden Gate Bridge as the plane descended. Julie had mixed feelings about Nick’s surprise. On the one hand, she had loved San Francisco since college and had always talked about wanting to live there. Nick must have remembered, which was thoughtful. On the other hand, why hadn’t he shown up himself?

Her personal steward collected the untouched champagne in preparation for landing. Idly, Julie‘s hand ran over the leather upholstery. She wondered how many women Nick had brought to this cabin. He could have whisked them away in this jet to romantic destinations, from Paris and Rome to Bermuda
.
She closed her eyes and mentally prepared herself for landing.

Julie wasn’t surprised to find a limo with another bottle of champagne waiting when she exited the aircraft. This time, Julie poured herself a large glass. She didn’t feel comfortable with all this pomp and wished more than anything she could have hopped on Nick’s bike again. Flying in his private jet had only made her feel more distant. Sighing, she drained the glass.

The driver didn’t take her to a giant hotel as Julie had expected. Instead, the car stopped in front of an Edwardian townhouse overlooking the bay. The sight of the four-story structure took Julie by surprise. Slack-jawed, she hopped out of the limo, not waiting for the driver’s assistance. Her eyes skimmed the classic San Franciscan architectural features, the bay windows and Spanish tiles. Tall and narrow, the townhouse rose from the steep sloping sidewalk. Heart pounding, Julie mounted the marble steps, taking them two at a time to the front door.

“So beautiful!” she murmured under her breath. Shaking her head, she gazed at the mosaic pattern around the heavy wood door. There was something familiar about the house, as if Julie had been here before, but she just couldn’t understand where she had seen this house with the beautiful pomegranate tiles before. Julie ran her fingers over the pink pomegranates.

The last of the sun’s rays filled the interior as she pushed the front door open. Inside, she found a large mahogany staircase dominating the entryway. A pair of double doors led to an intimate drawing room containing a baby grand piano. A portrait of the first lady of the house hung above the ornate fireplace. Julie lounged against a dais, wearing a green sari that mirrored the green flecks in her eyes, feeling some kinship with the woman in the painting, but not knowing why.

Down the hall, she discovered more rooms, including a kitchen large enough to accommodate an entire restaurant. The downstairs was dominated mostly by the garage and a media room that included an inhome theater and an old-fashioned billiards table. On the top floor, Julie found a large master suite leading out to a rooftop patio. Pushing the doors open, Julie inhaled the salty San Francisco air. The panoramic views of the marina and twin peaks took her breath away. She could see parts of Oakland and the tips of the Golden Gate bridge peeking out from the fog. In the center of the bay, she could even make out the tiny island of Alcatraz.