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2022-10-13 14:03:52
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The Billionare's Pretend Wife Do it now
Live rock music drowned my voice. I leaned closer to my friends and spoke loudly over the small square table, “He’s better looking in person than any photos. His stormy-blue eyes have this quiet intensity. He always seems to be considering what you say. Like it’s the most important thing in the world.” Jen’s jaw hung loosely. She seemed mesmerized by my description of Richard. Steph’s pale blue eyes were riveted on me while I talked about Richard. She plowed the fingers of her right hand through shoulder-length blond hair. Roman had her eyes on the guitar player who was also the lead singer of the band.“He works out, too,” I told them. “So he has really great shoulders.”Roman nodded. “Okay, now we know she’s slept with him,” she said to Jen and Steph.Steph didn’t get it. “How do we know that?”“I haven’t slept with him!” Truth was in the wording. A lawyer’s tactic for sure. I hadn’t, technically slept with anyone. Jen shook her head at Roman. Roman asked, “Why not?” Steph said,
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife Tomorow
Early morning light filtered into my bedroom as I threw the covers off. I hadn’t slept well. Drenched in sweat from a dream about the night before, I curled into a tight ball and slid one hand inside my panties. Whitney had awakened in me a desire for punishment. She had been true to her word though, and we never had sex. Instead, she left me dripping and wanting more. Wanting Richard. I had dreamed of a dark and faceless man. He may have been wearing a hood when he told me, “Do as I say.”The man placed a jeweled collar around my throat and attached a leash to it. Holding my leash, he led me into my office where my coworkers watched with open mouths. We walked past them, and I felt proud of who I was. I thought of the dark man in my dream, my disobedience, and his collar. The memory of the dream and of Whitney aroused me, and I remained in bed to satisfy the urge with my vibrator. Later, I dressed for work and used concealer to hide the dark circles under my eyes. While I added t
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife Lucky
An impromptu meeting with the partners made the workday run late. Nonetheless, Travis returned for me when I called for him. When he opened the door of the shiny black Mercedes sedan, he said, “Mr. Mackenzie is expecting you for dinner.”“What? He never called me.” I slid into the back seat where polished wood and soft black leather surrounded me. “What time does he want to meet?” I checked my watch.“In twenty minutes.” Looking down at my work clothes, the pencil skirt, and low heels, I decided it was for the best. No false pretenses this time—meaning, no red dress. From the driver’s seat, Travis made eye contact with me through the rearview mirror. “Mr. Mackenzie wanted you to be comfortable. Please help yourself to a glass of wine.” I wondered what we were celebrating. “Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”“No. He wants you to be surprised,” he said with a grin.“What are you two up to?” I asked. “I’m not allowed to say.”My heart bumped a dance beat. I liked surprises.
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife Late
My alarm radio had been singing for quite some time, though I was barely aware of it. “Oh my God!” I sat up and looked—eight-fifteen. I hate being late to work! This was exactly why I never drank on a weeknight. The room swam in circles as I reached for my cell and called Perry. “I’m going to be late today. I woke up with a huge . . . headache. It’s probably a cold.” She’d never suspect I had a hangover.“I’ll call with any messages, Ms. Robert.”“Thanks, Perry.” The sunlight shining on my comforter hurt my head. I covered my eyes and went back to sleep. Around ten in the morning I crawled out of bed, my stomach queasy and grumbling. I plodded to the kitchen and forced down a granola bar while making coffee. Advil too. Without turning the television on—the noise wouldn’t have helped—I sipped the hot brew to nurse my headache. While preparing for work, I tried to recall the conversation with Richard. What seemed clear to me was our evolving, growing relationship. I let that soak in
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife Office
Richard called me from his office. The next morning. Picketers had gathered outside PPS demanding an arrest. Also, PPS stocks had dipped. Stock market specialists blamed it on bad press surrounding Richard and the murders. He asked me to meet someplace private.That evening, Richard’s driver, Assad drove us to the Blackbird Restaurant. When we arrived at the exclusive eatery, a wild crowd had gathered in the street outside their doors as if they knew we were coming.“Mr. Mackenzie, you might want to see this,” Assad suggested. He had trimmed black facial hair that only guys in their twenties can pull off.With cameras and cell phones raised, people filled the sidewalk and alley. Someone held a large photo of Dr. Schakowsky high in the air. Signs read: Find the Killer!Who Killed Dr. Schakowsky? JT Mackenzie is a Murderer!From the Mercedes, we peered out at the insanity. Four news cameras and several boom microphones hovered in the air. From the entrance of the restaurant, a young r
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife The list
The list of executives from Fortune 500 companies who attended the Children’s Hospital fundraiser was long. But maybe Whitney would remember Irene. Yes, it had been over a year ago, but Whitney had met Irene Davidson there. That was clear from the photo of the two talking at the bar. Maybe Whitney was one of the last people to speak to Irene. I retrieved Whitney’s card from my purse and crawled into bed with my laptop to do some research. Whitney Crewe bore no connection to the name on the business card—Madam Ella Crewe. Publicly, she was identified as Jack Barnes’ partner. The PPS founder was more well-known than she. Whitney lived with him in a very nice five-bedroom home in the middle of upper-class suburban Illinois. Jack owned a small yacht that he kept in Fort Lauderdale, and Whitney owned a condo in Aspen, Colorado. She appeared to be the wife of a rich businessman. Her secret life showed a completely different side of her, however. In her website photo, her long blackish hai
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife Money
Richard was involved in Leung’s and Valerie’s murders; of that I was sure. The reasons I found him guilty, I could list on one hand. One, he had called and asked for representation before Leung’s body was found. Two, he had inserted himself into the investigation. Three, he had something to lose over the victims’ involvement with the Chinese. Four, if they had been involved in international espionage, he had everything to gain from their deaths. And five, he had the money and means.At work on Monday morning, my cell phone vibrated against my desk. I reached for it and saw that it was Richard. Dread filled me, and my shoulders drooped as I sank into the chair. Again, I was representing a cold-blooded predator. “Richard.”“I warned you to stay away from Whitney.”Pure ire filled me with confidence and puffed my chest out. Rage that I’d felt toward Peterson and other clients spilled out with my feelings of Richard’s betrayal. “Why is that Richard? Why did you tell me to stay away from h
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife Sins
For the next forty-eight hours I existed in a fog. Though I had acted out of anger, I regretted transferring my client to Domie. An underlying feeling of guilt niggled me. I missed Richard. I missed his calls and his low, calm voice. I could only wonder how our relationship would have developed over time. I sank even lower as time passed, and Richard left no messages. Perry knew I was going out of town for six days. She thought I was visiting family in Normal, however. And so without telling a soul, I left for Sydney. My sturdy backpack contained everything I’d need for hiking and tombstoning. This short vacation was overdue. In the Southern Hemisphere it was winter. There would be fewer tourists. I purchased a wetsuit for the colder water and decided that this time I wouldn’t camp outdoors. I booked a hotel room in Wollongong—a coastal city known for daunting cliffs and forested hiking trails. The flight to Sydney took an entire day, and while in flight I scheduled my short visit
Last Updated : 2022-10-13
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The Billionare's Pretend Wife Leave
The bed was still warm where Richard’s body had lain, but my lover was gone. In bare feet, I padded to the kitchen and found a pile of torn paper on the counter. Our dominant/submissive contract, in pieces. Beside it, a bright pink sticky-note—a love-note with his handwriting—stuck to the black granite counter. As a submissive, you have all the control. Love, Richard.He’d told me that before, and I never grasped the meaning. Yet when I thought of our relationship as a whole, I realized Richard gave me everything I ever needed. He gave me punishment when I asked for it. He gave me space when I—like a child having a temper tantrum—walked away from him. Through it all, he had been there for me in every way I needed. He loved me. And I loved him. Where do we go from here?I pulled up his number on my cell phone and dialed. The call went to voicemail, but I left a message. “Hey. Thanks for stopping by last night.” I didn’t know what to say. “I . . . uh, I wanted to see if you’ll go on a
The Billionare's Pretend Wife Kisses
Natasha sat on the bed and leveled the rifle at me while I got a pair of jeans and a shirt out of my suitcase. He ripped them from my hand and threw them into the closet. “Where is the dress I sent to you? The one you wore at the fundraiser.”I snarled, “I threw it in the trash.” “A shame. Find something else. Something nice!”I held up a sleeveless black dress and he seemed satisfied. I dressed behind the closed bathroom door then put on a pair of black high heels.Natasha’s beady eyes followed me like a coyote seeking fresh prey. “Where is your diamond collar?”I’d left it here the last time I returned to Chicago. The black velvet box sat on top of the dresser still. Natasha saw where my gaze landed and prodded me with the rifle. “Wear it.” I clipped the necklace around my throat as Natasha came to my side to examine the jeweled collar. My shoulder. My hair. His touch sickened me. He clasped his hand around my throat and squeezed. “He marked you with this. He thinks he owns you.
The Billionare's Pretend Wife Return
He said he’d be there for me when I returned. Since the weekend trip was short, I packed a small bag that included a bathing suit, change of clothes and one sheath dress for dinner the night before my dive. On the late-night two-hour flight from Chicago to Burlington, Vermont, I perused Google’s list of top sights near Lake Champlain. I’d never before been to South Burlington, where American history and museums abounded. My finger hovered over the link to the Church Street Marketplace—an outdoor shopping mall that stretched four blocks. It brought to mind the horrific day Roman was kidnapped. I shut my laptop and lay my head back on the headrest. I envied the woman sleeping across the aisle from me. Her deep breathing sounded peaceful. That kind of contentment felt out of my reach.At seven-thirty last night, Greg had driven me to The Office Bar, where I met with Charlie Reid for a much needed pep-talk. She walked me through a plan to help Bohdi Michaels avoid the twenty-year priso
The Billionare's Pretend Wife The floor
I spent a week in Chicago, visiting Roman and diving into work. I avoided Richard because I needed time to think things through. Richard said he loved me. He’d done everything in his power to help find Roman. Then he donated the one million dollars to the battered women’s shelter.I needed to go to him. I needed to see if he could give me what I wanted.I stepped into the dimly lit Lake Forest house with my agenda at the forefront of my mind. With the FBI team gone, an unusual sense of quiet had settled over the house. Security guards hung around quietly minding their own business, yet ever watchful.The scar on my leg ached. I dropped my things in the bedroom and went to the one place where my dark fantasy could be realized. Where the security guards would not be. The dungeon. In the basement, I pushed open the unlocked door to Richard’s playroom. As if he’d been expecting me, red nightlights on two walls cast long shadows of the X-rack and a coffin-sized cage. My eyes adjusted, an
The Billionare's Pretend Wife Black
A heavy-set man in a black suit opened the tall glass doors of Red Lace Escort Service for us. I recognized him as the man who—weeks earlier—handed me the titanium business card with Bohdi’s number. He pulled back his jacket and showed us his pistol. I followed Richard into the brightly lit office, where two other thugs were waiting. One stood near the office door with his automatic rifle in hand. One had been reclining on the fuchsia loveseat and when we walked in he sat up at attention, pointing his Uzi our way. I had left my Browning with Greg. Curbelo had outfitted us both with bullet-proof vests. The heavy armor made my breathing shallow. I wore the micro-transmitter—a necklace that looked like a tear-drop pendant—because Curbelo was afraid Richard would be frisked.“Ms. Robert,” the heavy man said. “’Dis way.” He pointed to the hall that lead to Angelique’s office but didn’t follow us. I understood now that the organization wanted me to represent Bohdi because they didn’t think
The Billionare's Pretend Wife Overnight
Fy scorched me inside. If Richard knew something about Roman’s disappearance, he’d have hell to pay. Once we arrived at Lake Forest, I flew around the house looking for him. He wasn’t in the kitchen, nor was Grant. The empty black leather desk chair in his office faced the window as if watching for someone to return.Two at a time, I leapt up the stairs and opened the Kendo room door—hushed quiet. I exited quickly. Down the hall to my left, Richard’s stark bedroom. I swung the door wide and let it crash into the wall behind it. Benjamin Kyle stared back at me.“Richard?” I called.No answer. Frustrated and angry, I backed out of the room and right into Jonathan’s arms.“Thena. I—”“What the hell, Richard?” I backed away from him and faced him head on. “This is your fault!” I was furious. I was frightened. I was losing control.“I’m so sorry.” Richard didn’t say a word in his defense. He looked me in the eye. “I’m calling FBI Agent Curbelo now. We need to inform her.” Richard already h
The Billionare's Pretend Wife Removed
I removed my suit jacket before climbing into the air-conditioned Mercedes. Disheartened, I sank into the leather seat and looked at my phone. I called Bohdi Michaels, and he picked up on the second ring.“Ms. Robert?”“I have a question for you.”Greg slid into the driver’s seat and started to put the car in gear. I held up my hand, asking him to wait till I finished. “Go ahead,” Michaels said.“I’ve just visited your psychiatrist—”“Oh, Jesus!”“—I need him as a character witness. So I asked him a few questions.” Bohdi’s reaction made me think he’d really opened up to his doctor. I suddenly worried what might be exposed if I put him on the stand.“Why him?”“Because Dr. Beaman is a respected professional who knows you well. Trust me, it’s a good call.”“Okay,” he softened. “I trust you.”“Slater would need a court order to have your records released. And I can see no reason your medical information would be necessary for this court hearing. But that doesn’t mean Slater won’t call f
The Billionare's Pretend Wife The talent
Sticky sweat glued our bodies together. Satiated and basking in the incandescence, we moved slowly, unwilling to let go. I wanted to lie in his arms until Natasha’s threat and all that surrounded it disappeared. I could love Richard.When finally the source of summer heat sank beneath the horizon, I opened a window and let in a cooling breeze. Our stomachs growled. Richard and I sat up from my bed. His hand on my back. My fingers on his cheek. His lips on my shoulder. I donned panties and a t-shirt—still too hot to wear anything else. Richard slid into his slacks and hung his shirt to smooth the wrinkles. He took a call in the bathroom. When he exited wearing only his slacks, Richard said he checked in with Greg and Erik. The second shift bodyguards had arrived so they could get dinner. They would stand watch in the building lobby and the underground garage.“Let me cook for you,” he said.“I didn’t know you had the talent.”“There is much you still don’t know about me.”Truer words
The Billionare's Pretend Wife Collab
The presence of the security team at Richard’s mansion reminded me of Travis King, the bodyguard who had attacked me, and how even they might be swayed to turn against us by the promise of power . . . or a deeper purse than Richard’s. They made me leery.For the rest of the day I worked in solitude on my laptop from the bedroom. Richard—busy with work and his own investigation—checked on me several times. Richard had a private team of analysts looking for ways to avoid giving Natasha the money. We discussed the limited options which included shipping me off to someplace remote and having the FBI make an arrest during the handoff. He seemed preoccupied but never too distracted to forget to kiss me or rub my shoulders. Every moment brought us closer together.I began to long for more time with him. His woodsy fragrance. His caress. It had been too long since we’d been intimate. With Bohdi Michaels’ trial weeks away, I looked deeper into terrorist groups and specifically the Russian maf
