BILLION DOLLAR DADDY Page 4

  “Yeah… it’s a good one,” I say, but I don’t put it back on. Instead I choose something more lighthearted and we start the long drive across town.

  It’s warm out so we end up with the windows down and I catch the flicker of a smile on Jessie’s face and, even more surprising, the start of one on my own. There is just something about the smell of the start of summer, music and driving that makes me feel happy. It’s been so long since I felt this sense of freedom.

  I don’t know why I let go of so many of the things that were important to me. Money brings freedom but it can also be a prison.

  As Jessie pulls out a simple Chapstick and smooths it over her lips I make a vow to take back my freedom while I still can.

  7

  JESSIE

  I don’t know what I was expecting but it wasn’t this. Ryan’s house… well, I don’t think I can call it a house. It’s a full blown gated mansion with security and a driveway so long you can barely see the house from the road. I try not to let my mouth flap open like a fish. I really do try, but I just let him see my one-room apartment and this is where he comes from. Fuck. I’m so embarrassed.

  Embarrassed doesn’t cover it. Completely and utterly soul-shakingly mortified is probably more like it. What the hell must he think of me? Stripper. Shitty house. Cheap clothes.

  Well, I guess I know what he thinks of me. That I can be bought for fifty grand.

  I’m surprised he didn’t offer less.

  As we approach the house, the doors to the huge garage open and he drives the car straight into a massive space that is home to a fleet of other amazing cars. There are so many I can’t even count. A man appears and opens my door, and Ryan gets out of the car on his side.

  “There is luggage,” he says to the man who just nods.

  I shuffle forward so he can close my door, then watch as the man, who is dressed like a valet, retrieves my bag from the trunk.

  “Jessie,” Ryan says, and I get the hint that he’s expecting me to walk towards him. My palms are sweaty and my upper lip feels prickly too. I’m so far out of my depth here I might as well be sitting at the bottom of the Atlantic. “I’ll show you around and you can make yourself at home.”

  Home?

  This is going to be my home for the next month, or if not a home, the place I’m going to be living in. In fact, I make a promise to myself that I’m not going to settle into this place too much. I’m not going to let myself get used to it because although I’ll have fifty thousand dollars when I leave here, that’s not going to be enough to uplift my current living situation by much after I’ve paid off the debts. I can’t become accustomed to having people open doors for me and carry my bags. In a month I’ll be lugging my own groceries back from the store and fighting to open the door to my apartment with my hands full. I need to remember who I am and where I come from so that leaving this place doesn’t destroy me.

  “Are you hungry?” Ryan asks as we pass through a hallway at the back of the garage and into the house. I want to tell him that I am but my throat is tight at how beautiful this place is. It’s stunning. Like something out of a magazine with pages so thick and glossy that you can barely turn them, but it’s more than that. Whoever decorated it has mixed the classy with the personal. Huge canvases hang in the entrance way and so does a light fixture, which is more angled glass and bronze than chandelier. Dark wood is mixed with colored glass and sculpture that looks like it should be in a museum in New York.

  I guess I must not answer within a normal timeframe because when I glance across at him he’s starting at me. “A little,” I blurt.

  “Then we’ll go to the dining room first.”

  I follow him around the huge curving staircase and into what feels like the belly of this massive place. He throws open double doors and we’re suddenly in a vast space with floor to ceiling glass panels looking out over a gorgeously designed outdoor space. I catch sight of a pool before I take in the room itself. I have to stop myself from standing in the middle of the room and pivoting so I can take everything. I don’t want to keep making a fool of myself.

  A woman suddenly appears, dressed in the kind of thing I imagine the housekeepers wear in sumptuous hotels.

  “Jessie is hungry,” Ryan says plainly.

  The woman smiles. “What would you like me to bring you?” she asks.

  “Err…” I stumble because I’m not even sure I could swallow water right now.

  “I make really good pancakes,” she says, looking towards Ryan.

  “The best,” he says without a hint of emotion.

  I nod. “That sounds good.”

  “You want them with bacon and maple syrup?” she asks.

  “Sure.”

  “And to drink?”

  “Some juice?” My mouth is watering by now as I stand awkwardly feeling like a stray animal this man has picked up from somewhere unsavory. She nods, smiles and disappears back through the door she came from. The next few seconds seem to tick past in slow motion. Ryan slides his hands into his pockets and I shift my feet feeling so unbelievably self-conscious.

  “Let’s sit,” he says finally waving his arm toward the large marble counter. We perch on the stools and I expect Ryan to pull out his phone for something to do but he doesn’t. “I can tell you feel awkward,” he says. I look out of the window as my cheeks heat pink. I don’t want him to see I’m embarrassed. His voice is soft. “But you won’t for long, Jessie.”

  “Why do you want this?” I ask him. “Why me?”

  He’s silent for a while. “The first question I can’t answer,” he says. I can hear a tightness in his throat that wasn’t present before. “As for why you, I’m surprised you would even ask.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re beautiful,” he says. It’s not a statement designed to flatter. He sounds as though he stating a simple fact and I blush hard. I’ve been called pretty before. Sexy. Gorgeous. Hot as fuck even, but beautiful is new. Beautiful feels amazing as though my heart has gone from a bud into an open bloom in a second. Do I feel beautiful? Not really. Not in my too heavy make-up and my ratty travel-to-work clothes. Do I think this man could make me feel beautiful? In a heartbeat.

  “And that’s it,” I say. “There are thousands of beautiful women out there who would fall at your feet. Why pay me?”

  He runs his hand over his face as though my questions are stressing him out. It’s not my intention but I want to know. I want to understand his motivations.

  “Because it’s easier this way. No expectations outside of the arrangement. I know who you are and what your intentions are and you know the same about me.”

  The door opens and the woman appears with a plate of pancakes that look so delicious my stomach actual growls in response. She sets it down before me with some gorgeous cutlery and a jug of maple syrup. Ryan is presented with an espresso and a glass of water which he didn’t order but must be his regular. It seems late to be drinking such strong coffee but I guess he’s used to it. My freshly squeezed orange juice is delicious and I sip it slowly, feeling suddenly nervous about eating in front of this man. Will he be assessing my manners?

  I cut a small piece of pancake and chew it, conscious of every movement.

  “It’s not good?” he says after a while. He looks genuinely mortified that I might not be enjoying what his cook has produced.

  “It’s good,” I say.

  “Then why are you eating it like it’s a piece of cardboard?” His mouth quirks into a small smile and I can’t help but grin back.

  “I feel like you’re watching me eat,” I say and then cut a huge piece of pancake and stuff it into my mouth defiantly.

  “I’ll leave you,” he says.

  I think about how strange it would feel to sit in this dining room without him and decide that’s even less appealing.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “Maybe just look at your phone or something.”

  He reaches into the pocket of his navy jacket and pulls out
a phone. It’s huge, almost like a tablet. “I’ll catch up on the markets,” he says. I smile because it’s exactly what I was expecting him to say. He doesn’t look much like a casual gamer. I couldn’t imagine him scanning his timeline on Facebook. I bet he has no social media accounts. A man like him wouldn’t have time for all that.

  I eat and he looks serious and all the while I’m trying to imagine what is going to happen next. He’s buying my time and I know what that means to a man. We’re not likely to be playing Scrabble when we go upstairs.

  It’s been a long time since I had sex. A long time since a man saw me naked in a personal way. Yes, I’m a stripper, but that is just work. To undress in a bedroom is completely different from a room at work or a stage. To undress for sex has so many more complex feelings associated with it.

  I try to picture what his body will be like underneath all his pristine designer clothing. He looks like the kind of man who works out regularly. I bet he has a fully kitted out gym in this house and probably a personal trainer who appears like magic. Maybe he swims in the gorgeous pool outside. I get a flash of what he might look like pulling himself out of the pool, water running in rivulets down his muscled torso, hair dripping and slicked back against his head. He has thick thighs and strong hands and skin that’s tan, probably from all his luxury vacations.

  If I was going to choose a man to have sex with, that is to do it without love, then Ryan would probably be the pinnacle of that choice, but I’ve never done the ‘sex without love’ thing. I’ve never had the one night stands or the fuck buddies that my friends did. I was with the man I married from so young and he’s the only one who has ever been inside that part of me or who ever brought me pleasure. I wonder if I’ll even be able to relax enough to come with this man or if I’ll have to fake it. I’m not a liar so I don’t like that idea but I wouldn’t want to be a disappointment. Not when he’s paid so much. It’s funny because I don’t get the feeling he does this kind of thing every day. I’m not feeling like one of many because the cook looked at me with shock in her eyes. She wasn’t expecting to see a woman with Ryan. I could tell. Maybe he’s honest in saying he hasn’t been with anyone since his wife died. Maybe this really is what he says it is.

  I’m done with the pancakes and as I eat my last mouthful I take a deep breath through my nose to try and squash down my nerves. I drain the last of my juice and it’s as though Ryan’s been waiting impatiently because he’s up and off his seat pretty much straight away.

  “Well, it looks as though you enjoyed those,” he says with a smile in his voice. He’s right. I did, but I guess he knows what they taste like. There is no way you could live in a house with a cook who could make pancakes like that and not have them on a regular basis. “Are you ready to see the rest of the house?”

  I nod and he starts back the way we came. “I’ll let you explore the rest of the downstairs tomorrow. You’ll have plenty of time to familiarize yourself with the layout and you have free rein to go anywhere in the house and grounds except for my office.”

  It must be the slightly subversive part of me that has a sudden desire to find his office and root through all his secrets. I’m pretty confident that there’s probably nothing there of interest outside Ryan’s financial and business dealings but the very fact he doesn’t want me to know about those things just makes it all seem more intriguing.

  I follow him as he begins to ascend the stairs, feeling like Belle in the Beast’s castle. This staircase isn’t just a means of moving between floors, it’s epic in its scale. The banister is intricately carved and polished to a shine so high it’s almost mirrored. The carpet is thick underfoot and the light fixture hangs above us imposingly. I feel tiny and insignificant. I feel unworthy of taking these steps behind a man who walks so confidently I wonder if he’s ever experienced self-doubt in his life.

  “This floor features guest suites and some other rooms that you won’t have much use for.” We bypass the second floor entirely and I keep plodding up the stairs, imagining that I’m going to end up shut in the attic. That really would be like a fairy tale. “This floor has my office, my gym, my suite and a room that will be yours while you are staying here.” He leads me down the widest hallway I’ve ever travelled along, passed gorgeous artwork which hangs intermittently and beautiful sculptures which are placed strategically to make the most of the light streaming in through the huge windows. I want to stop and gaze at everything but he’s walking as though he sees nothing, every stride speeded with his impatience. I wonder if he’s spent his whole life this way. When a person is so fixated with their goal they forget to pause and enjoy the journey. I have many regrets in my life. So many ‘what ifs’ but I vowed that I’d slow down to smell the roses. I get an urge to put my hand on Ryan’s shoulder and tell him he needs to do the same but it’s not my place. Not yet anyway.

  We reach a door at the end of the hallway and Ryan throws it open. “This is where you’ll stay while you’re here,” he says.

  I take a step inside and my heart skips a beat. It’s decorated perfectly. Soft blue walls that remind me of the sea. Gorgeous bed linens with intricate lace detail, and enough cushions for ten normal people. I turn and find a stunning cream chaise and a book case displaying pretty things that I know will have cost a fortune from some fancy department store.

  I feel like pauper in a princess’s bedroom. I feel like I don’t belong. Then I notice my bag on the console table and it becomes real. I’m going to be living here for a month. I’m going to be sleeping in this bed and doing my make-up at this dresser and showering in the stunning bathroom that Ryan has just revealed from behind a floor to ceiling mirrored door.

  “Is it okay for you?” he asks seriously and I want to laugh. I can’t believe it’s a genuine question because who the hell would say no? Is there a person in the world who wouldn’t want to stay in this room in this house?

  “It’s perfect.”

  He looks pleased. We stand for a moment, me waiting for him to say something else and maybe him doing the same. When neither of us speaks he looks to the window.

  “I’ll be in my office. Make yourself at home.”

  I nod and he leaves, closing the door behind him, and that’s when the fun starts.

  8

  RYAN

  I can hear music coming from her room. It’s not playing loudly enough for me to be sure but I swear she’s listen to “Girls Just Want To Have Fun.” I wouldn’t have taken her for a Cindy Lauper fan but I guess that tune gets enough airplay for everyone to know it.

  I wish I could see what she’s doing. I imagine her dancing around and singing into her hair brush. In my mind she’s wearing little pink pajama shorts and a skimpy little top, her hair is loose and wavy and she’s singing with anger and passion in her voice.

  My office has never seemed duller or stuffier and I’ve never wanted to be in here less than I do right now.

  The music goes quiet. My ears are pricked up to hear what she plays next but instead I hear the click of a door being opened and the soft pad of feet on carpet.

  “Ryan.” Jessie’s voice is timid as though she’s worried I won’t respond positively to her seeking me out. I’ve told her my office is out of bounds and I don’t want to be seen to be breaking that rule straight away. There are too many things in here that I wouldn’t want her to find.

  I make my way into the hallway and find her dressed in light gray soft-looking pajamas with cream lace edging. They skim over her curves and her blonde hair is loose and cascading over her shoulders. She looks like a combination of the girl next door and a Victoria’s Secret model, and for a moment I don’t know what to say to her. Innocent beauty like hers isn’t something you come across every day and certainly not what you expect from someone who does kind of job she does. She should be hard. She should be sexy and obvious, but she isn’t.

  If I’d met Jessie in high school, she would have been the kind of girl I would have dated.

  “Is there anything yo
u want from me?” she asks. I see her cheeks pink at the question and I know what it probably took for her to come out and ask me this.

  I’m not going to tell her no because I brought her here for a reason. I need the things she can give me, the things she signed up for when she took my money. If I say no now, it’ll only make it harder to say yes tomorrow. If I say no now, she’ll wonder what’s going to happen for the next month. Things need to be clear for both of us.

  I lead her into my suite, closing the door softly behind us and I take a seat on my Chesterfield chair. She stands glancing around the room and I wonder what she thinks of the way it is in here. I had it redecorated after Corina passed. It’s a man’s room now; dark wood, brown and tan leather, big bed with crisp white sheets. While her attention is elsewhere I take the moment to tell her what I want.

  “Take off your clothes, Jessie.” My voice is gravelly and low. As I say the words my cock twitches. There’s something so fucking arousing about telling a woman what to do. I don’t say that in a misogynistic way although it probably sounds it. I’d like it just as much if she ordered me to do the same. It’s about knowing what you want and not being afraid to seek it out. It’s about that frisson in the moment when the order hangs there and the person being ordered decides what they are going to do next.

  She could say no. I watch her blink slowly as she takes in what I’ve said. She does this every day for multiple men so it’s nothing shocking or new. I wonder if it feels different to do it for me, away from her working environment where she has house rules and security to keep her safe. The house rules would prevent me from touching her but there are no rules here outside of her own limitations.

  She doesn’t look at me as she slides one of the thin straps of her camisole over the smooth rounded curve of her shoulder. Her eyes fix on the hand that is starting to carry out my request as though she sees it as a traitorous thing. The top of her right breast is bared and I lick my lips because everything about her looks so soft and warm. I could bury my face between her breasts and inhale. I imagine that she smells of vanilla or something soft and floral. Her other hand works on the other strap and then the fabric drops around her waist.