Billionaire Games Read online

  He let his gaze travel down the two open buttons of her crisp white shirt, following the trail of skin until it disappeared. The shirt was modest but it couldn’t hide the swell of her tits, just as the skirt she wore couldn’t hide the hips he had loved to hold as he pounded into her from behind.

  His groin pulled tight at the memory of her body and the things he’d done with her, and thoughts of those he would do yet.

  “Close the door behind you,” he said.

  She gently pushed the door closed and then stood silent and watched him, confused, almost as if she had seen a ghost. He understood how she felt, and not for the first time, he wondered if she had even thought of him in the years since they had seen each other.

  Probably not.

  But she would think of him now, think of the kid she had so callously tossed aside, and she would remember.

  “Simeon…”

  Her voice was lower, and he instantly imagined how it would sound as he stroked her to climax. Something else he would experience soon enough.

  “We never had a proper good-bye, don’t you agree, Claire?”

  She looked at him, stunned, opening and closing her mouth as no words came out. For a moment, just a split second, he remembered how much of a chatterbox she was and then how flustered she’d get when she realized what she was doing. He often teased her that one day he would strike her speechless, and then he’d proceed to try.

  He’d finally succeeded, but that was only the first victory of the many he had planned.

  “You agree. Good. I’ll be direct,” he said.

  “Simeon, I—”

  “I want you. Six weeks, at my complete disposal.”

  “What!” she exclaimed.

  Simeon smiled at the satisfaction that bloomed in his chest as he took in her bewildered expression.

  “You heard me. Mine. For six weeks.”

  She shook her head, and looked at him with wide eyes that almost made him sympathize with her. Almost.

  “What are you talking about?” she said, her voice rising to a near shriek.

  “Like I said. We never had a proper good-bye. Now is the time for it.”

  “What do you mean, at your disposal?” she asked, peering at him hard like maybe if she stared at him long enough she could see inside him, see what he had become. Whatever he had become, she’d made him, and he wouldn’t let her facade suck him in. Not again.

  “You don’t get to ask me questions, Claire. That’s not a part of our bargain, but I’ll make an exception just this once.”

  He stopped closer to her, reveling in the way she nervously tugged at her collar and the way her plump lips dropped open. He could practically feel them as they closed around his shaft, yet something else he would soon experience again.

  He moved even closer, happy when he saw the pulse at the base of her throat and even happier when she stepped backward, moving until she could move no farther. Her back was flat against the glass wall, the blinds giving where she stood, but he came even closer still until their bodies almost touched.

  “It’s exactly as it sounds, Claire. You, at my disposal, for six weeks.”

  She lifted her head, her glittering blue eyes meeting his.

  “That’s very vague, Simeon.”

  Her voice came out on the low whisper, seducing him even as he tried to keep himself distant.

  He closed the distance between them ever so slightly, even though doing so only intensified the sweet smell of her, made him feel her warmth that much more. “You’re a smart girl, Claire. Far smarter than I ever was, but since you want to pretend, I’ll spell it out for you. I’m going to fuck you.”

  He said the last word on a low, almost guttural, whisper, and he waited, anticipating her surprise, revulsion. He didn’t see either.

  Instead, her eyes widened before dropping low, and rather than recoiling, he saw pure interest. Claire had always been an open book, her emotions, desires, clear on her face.

  Except when they weren’t, he reminded himself, those words replaying in his brain again, still strong, loud, and never to be forgotten.

  “I could never love someone like him.”

  Whatever he’d thought of her, he had been wrong. She was just like everyone else, a liar, and he couldn’t forget that. No matter how much her closeness was driving him to distraction. He could never trust her, would never trust her, and he wouldn’t let himself get taken in again.

  “And why would I”—she swallowed thickly—“why would I do that?” she said.

  He smiled then, the expression he knew one of triumph.

  “Because if you don’t, I will destroy you and everything you hold dear.”

  * * *

  Claire’s entire mind wanted to reject what was happening. It would have been easier to believe that she wasn’t in this room, back pressed flat against the glass wall with Simeon Hayes in all of his evil and angelic glory looming over her, beautiful, so like she’d remembered but so different.

  But his very presence wouldn’t allow her to reject it, wouldn’t let her pretend that she wasn’t here, and worse, that she didn’t want to be. It wouldn’t allow her to pretend that every part of her wasn’t humming with the excitement of him so near her.

  She met his eyes, and when she glimpsed the deep brown, her lungs froze in her chest and her heart skipped a beat. He’d never looked at her quite like this before. His eyes were cold, not warm with passion as she so often dreamed of. He looked at her as if he felt nothing at all. But as much as the coldness of his expression wounded her, it did nothing to calm her desire for him.

  She dropped her gaze to his stubbled jaw, the beginnings of the beard at odds with the fine, hand-sewn shirt he wore. His beard would be rough against her skin, but his soft lips would soothe away the sting. Her nipples tightened until they were sensitive tips that were practically crying for out his touch, and the space between her thighs began to throb with need that only he could take away.

  She was unable to stand still any longer, so she shifted, the rasp of her panties against her sensitive sex sending shocks of excitement through her body. Simeon’s outrageous suggestion should have her angry, not on the verge of coming without him even touching her, but she was, her body alive and needy in a way it hadn’t been since she had seen him last. His closeness only intensified the feeling.

  He’d always been tall, muscular, and that hadn’t changed. He still towered over her, and this close, his muscled body trapping hers against the glass, she felt small, dainty, and more than anything she wanted to touch him, feel his hard body against hers.

  So as much as her mind said he couldn’t be here looking at her as if he wanted to throttle her and then screw her senseless, that he hadn’t just demanded she be his whore, she couldn’t deny his presence or his words. The raging desire that animated her wouldn’t allow it.

  “Simeon, I—”

  “Yes or no,” he said.

  She met his eyes again.

  “Destroy me?” she said.

  His expression turned warm, not with passion but with frustration and anger.

  “That’s right, rich girl. You don’t know what it’s like to be destroyed. And if you don’t want to find out, you’ll accept,” he said.

  Simeon was wrong. She did know what it was like to be destroyed. He was the one who had destroyed her, after all.

  So why was he acting like this? How could he be angry with her? He had ripped her heart out without so much as a second thought, and yet he’d returned nine years later, acting as if he were the wronged party.

  That memory of how devastated she had been, of all the time it had taken for her to slowly piece herself together again, of how stupid she’d felt for having believed in him when everyone else had told her that he was no good, was the only thing that allowed her to continue to meet his eyes.

  She stood up straighter and ignored the sizzle that went through her when their bodies touched.

  “I don’t have time for these games, and I
don’t have time for you. So do your worst, Simeon. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do,” she said.

  Simeon lifted one corner of his mouth in a wolfish smile, and she had the sinking feeling that she had unknowingly played right into his hands.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Claire,” he said, not moving even when she attempted to slide away from him. “You don’t have work to do. Not unless I say you do. One word from me and you’ll have nothing but time,” he said.

  “What you talking about, Simeon?” she snapped.

  He smiled bigger. “Still feisty, rich girl?”

  “Don’t call me that,” she hissed.

  “You are. Good. I hope that spiritedness still extends to other areas,” he said.

  “Good-bye,” she said, stepping toward the door.

  “Stop,” he commanded, and to her shame, Claire complied.

  She turned and then crossed her arms over her chest before she uncrossed them and let them hang limply at her sides.

  As she watched, he grabbed an envelope off the table and then turned to face her. “As of nine thirty this morning I am the owner of this company. Which means you work for me,” he said. “Or not. The choice is yours,” he said.

  “You bought—”

  He closed the space between them, came close enough that she again felt the heat of his body. “I’m not the same street trash I used to be, Claire. I have money now, power. And I will use it,” he thundered.

  She watched him without responding, but her mind raced as she thought of all the stories she had read over the years. She’d never told anyone, but she obsessively read anything she could about him, hungry for any scraps of information she could find.

  His meteoric rise was the stuff of legend. In less than a decade he’d gone from nothing to billionaire. His empire was vast and included real estate, technology, and energy investments.

  So why would he bother with a respected and up and coming, but ultimately small architectural firm? Certainly not because of her.

  “You own this company? Why?” she asked, giving voice to her thoughts.

  “Haven’t you been paying attention, rich girl?”

  “Simeon…”

  At the warning tone in her voice, he simply smiled and she wanted to punch him.

  “Fine. So you own this place. I’m good at what I do. I’ll get another job. Easy enough,” she said.

  She turned and took the two steps to the conference room door. When she reached out, his voice, ice-cold and hard, again stopped her from turning the knob.

  “If you walk out of that door, the deal’s off. You’re free to leave, but good luck finding another job. Anywhere.”

  Instinct told her to keep her back to him, to walk out of the room, pretend she had never seen him, and go on with things as they had been only minutes ago. But something in his voice wouldn’t let her. Simeon had always been many things, stubborn, too damn proud for his own good, but, except for the time when he’d said he loved her, he had never lied.

  It was that knowledge of him that made her turn.

  “So you’re threatening me?” she asked when she looked at him at him again.

  “No. I’m not. I’m promising you. You’ll never work as an architect again. Not here, not anywhere else.”

  Her mind raced with the confusion of this moment. She took in his face, stern, distant, so painful in the way it reminded her of who he used to be, who she’d thought he was.

  “And before you go thinking that you’ll just run to Daddy and have him make it all better, there’s something else you should look at,” he said.

  He tossed an envelope to her, and she quickly retrieved the documents and read them.

  Then read them again.

  “That’s right. You can’t count on him to protect you,” Simeon said.

  Her anger sparked again, but she pushed it aside and instead focused on the papers he had shoved into her hand.

  “You pulled his license?” she said.

  “Not yet, but the paperwork is waiting. One phone call and he won’t be able to build a kiosk in this state. Or any other. Do you think he’s eager to start over again? Do you think his reputation and good name will save him?”

  “You would do that?” Claire asked.

  Simeon smiled. “Answer now. Yes or no.”

  She looked at the document, then back at Simeon, and again felt that desire for him. She had still had her pride, though. The word slipped out on a breath of a whisper.

  “No.”

  3

  Claire was so nervous that her hands shook, but the tremor of her fingers was nothing compared to the earthquake that was going off inside her. She couldn’t believe what Simeon had suggested, what he wanted, what he’d said he do.

  And she couldn’t believe her reaction to him.

  But it was undeniable. As angry as she was, as hurt, every inch of her was enlivened by just a few moments in his presence.

  She was sad too, sad for him. There was bitterness in him now that hadn’t been there before. He’d always been hard; his upbringing wouldn’t allow for anything different, but the bitterness was new, and it made her hurt for him.

  But the bitterness didn’t make him any less attractive; there wasn’t much that could. But it weighed him, gave him an air that didn’t fit. Because no matter how much he had pretended otherwise, Simeon had always been hopeful, had always had a streak of gentleness, of softness that she knew was the real him. She knew his hard shell was just something he wore to protect himself from the world. But when she looked at this new Simeon, the grown-up version, she didn’t see any hint of the old him at all.

  She shuddered yet again, regret filling her at the loss.

  Claire hoped he got better, found whatever it was he was seeking. Because even after all he’d done, the way he had treated her, she still cared about him.

  She reached her workstation, determined to pretend the little interlude had never happened. It was clear that Simeon was going through something, but she wouldn’t let his crazy schemes, or the crazy desire that he started in her, distract her. No. She had a tiny house to design, and she would do just that. Then this weekend, she would go to the craft fair and visit her parents. Nothing in her life would change, least of all because Simeon Hayes had decided to come storming in.

  Her computer buzzed, and Claire looked up at the screen.

  Access denied.

  Claire looked down at the keyboard and then reentered her password, knowing that she sometimes got a little sloppy with her typing. But this time she went slower and keyed in the password that she knew like the back of her hand. And again it buzzed.

  Access denied.

  Claire stared at the screen quizzically, wondering what was happening, but she was distracted by what sounded like a herd of animals crossing the concrete floor. She looked up to see Sydney approaching her. But she wasn’t alone. This time she was flanked by two security guards.

  A pit hollowed in her stomach, and Claire felt an impending dread began to rise. The dread only intensified when Sydney stopped at her cubicle again, this time her expression both angry and resigned at the same time.

  Claire suspected she knew what her friend was going to say, but she stood nonetheless and waited. “Sydney?”

  She shook her head, her expression dropping. “I’m sorry, Claire. I’m going to have to ask for your access card.”

  “He made you do this,” Claire said, her voice flat.

  Sydney nodded. “I’m sorry, but you know it’s just me and the boys, and I can’t risk—”

  Claire reached for her friend’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s not your fault. I’ll leave.”

  Sydney’s face shifted from resigned to anger. “I should—”

  Claire shook her head. “No, Sydney. You have to take care of your kids, and you need this job to do it. Don’t put yourself in danger. Especially not over me,” Claire said.

  She appreciated her friend wanting to go to bat for her, but Sydney was a si
ngle mother with responsibilities, and Claire wouldn’t let her jeopardize her job or her kids, especially not because of Simeon Hayes.

  So instead, she handed Sydney her access card, grabbed her empty mug and pictures of her friends and family. Then she tucked her bag over her arm and began to retreat toward the elevator.

  The two security guards followed behind her, but Claire kept her head high and ignored the pointed stares of her colleagues, people who she thought of as friends, as she was escorted out of the building. She felt like a criminal and she knew that they would wonder what she had done to bring this on.

  But even as the tears began to burn behind her eyes, she choked them back. She glanced up at one of the cameras that lined the hall and wondered if Simeon was watching her.

  From what she knew of this new Simeon, he probably was, and that only hardened her resolve. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her break down, would let him know that his game was getting to her.

  Simeon had gotten more than enough of her tears, more than enough of her time, and she wouldn’t give him any more.

  She was proud of herself as she walked, got into her car, and drove off, and even prouder that she didn’t cry until she got to her house.

  * * *

  Simeon stayed at the company, telling himself it was more efficient to work here since this was where he was located, and completely ignoring the fact that he was there because she had been here, and that he was there because she had so deeply shaken him.

  She hadn’t believed him when he’d said she was fired if she left that room, but he had shown her. He’d felt like a creep as he’d watched the scene play out from behind the bank of security cameras, but he didn’t care. So he’d watched, had seen Claire’s surprise and then her resolve, the way she tilted her chin stubbornly, that irrepressible pride radiating through the screen.

  She’d pulled herself to her full and not at all intimidating height, and for a moment Simeon had been taken away with the memory of how she’d fit perfectly in his arms, how she’d curl against his side and tangle her shorter limbs in his much longer ones.