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Last Updated:
2022-10-13 18:47:52
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The Billionare's Pretend Wife Just like him
A few mornings later, as I poured a cup of coffee from my French press, I glanced up at the TV. The news scroll at the bottom announced that Senator Peterson had been arrested for the murder of his girlfriend, Alexis Moore. Two reporters on television sat at a glass desk with their feet on the rungs of their stools and a page of notes in front of them. I turned it up. A woman with overprocessed hair and shiny pink lipstick and wearing a bright yellow dress leaned toward a black man in a dark gray suit and blue tie as he said, “It begs the question, is our legal system broken? When shrewd, manipulative attorneys like Thena Robert can get a man like Senator Peterson, an accused sexual predator, acquitted, is she to blame? Is it our legal system? Was it the fault of the jury? Or did something unnatural happen in that courtroom?” “That’s right, Barry. Our panel of experts is here to discuss the law and sexual predators this morning,” the blonde said. Barry gave the lead-in. “Senator P
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife Bondage
Bondage. Discipline. Sadism. Masochism. On my laptop, the screen filled with images of beautiful women tied with black rope. With red rope. And placed into positions that compromised their movement. It held them. It kept them from moving, walking, or running away. I wanted to be them. I wanted to feel the rope on my skin. And more than anything in the world, I wanted to fight against it. Richard hadn’t tied me up, so to speak. If anything, our encounter had been vanilla. I wanted more. He said he was a dominant man, why hadn’t he shown me that side of himself? In life I felt restricted. By my family and by rules. By the law. By the life I’d made. That was the reason I tombstoned. Because facing the risk head-on freed me from the restrictions of life. Of my life.Could bondage free me in ways that tombstoning could not? I wondered. Could fighting against rope metaphorically untie me from guilt and shame? What if letting Richard call the shots—take control—could absolve me? I needed
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife I need
It was still dark outside when I woke several minutes or several hours later. And Richard was no longer in bed. I heard shuffling near his dresser, and I sat up.“Can’t you sleep? Come back to bed.” I patted the sheet next to me. He wore black briefs that hugged his hard, round buttocks. But even in the dark room, I could see that something troubled him.“What’s wrong?” I asked.At first he hesitated. “I need. . . .”I waited for him to finish as he lowered his head and faced the dresser away from me. He fingered a piece of paper there.“What do you need? Tell me, please.”“Thena.” He stepped to the foot of the bed then sat down. “I need more from you. I need you to be willing to give what I ask,” he said.“What does that mean? I’m here. I’m willing. I’ve told you that I love this.” He stood again and went to retrieve his slacks. Leaning on the couch, he slid his feet into them. I pulled the sheet over my body. Richard seemed broody. Vexed and uneasy. He picked up his belt and folde
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife Time
I hardly slept that night. I had taken a cab home and fell onto my bed fully dressed. I padded to the bathroom and plunged my hands and face into the icy-cold tap water. Memory of the night before lingered with the stale smell of Richard’s cologne on my skin. Before stripping out of my T-shirt and jeans to shower his scent off me, I looked in the mirror. Red marks and striations from the tight ropes had already faded. Atonement. Forgiveness. The experience had relieved me of my angst. I looked at my reflection and took a big gulp of air. Like swimming to the surface after plunging into the dark water at Lake Havasu.I dressed in black clothing that fit my defiant mood, a black pencil skirt and a shirt with a starched, severe pointed collar. Today in court I hoped to slaughter the prosecuting attorney. I was angry with Richard and angry with myself for falling for him. I went to the kitchen counter to boil water in my kettle for coffee. I stared at the bubbling liquid until the kettle
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife Blood
The blood orange sky could have been mistaken for a distant fire. The sunset in the west hovered between a few black clouds like smoke from that smoldering flame. To the east, the shroud of a storm closed in. It had been months since I’d taken the time to notice the sky. Standing on the sidewalk in front of my building, I noted how the events of the past few weeks had taken their toll. Johnson Dorman wanted me to represent another scuzzy predator. Peterson had just killed his girlfriend and asked me to represent him again. I hugged my arms to my chest and added one more—Richard. . . . and his contract. To my left, a black Mercedes pulled alongside the sidewalk. Travis. I should have known Richard wouldn’t let it go. He’s sent his bodyguard even though I’d told him not to. From the car, Travis called out the opened passenger window. “Jump in. I’ll take you to Richard’s.”“Thanks, Travis, but I told Richard I’ll stay home tonight.” “I can’t let you do that.”Take the night off, Travi
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife The cops
I hated to be late. On my way to trial, my high heels clicked like a hammer against bone as I hurried down Michigan Avenue. I passed people, parked cars, and street venders. Panic and dread compounded the urgency to get to the courtroom, which was miles away. My briefcase had become so heavy I dragged it like a concrete block and considered leaving it behind. But even worse that being late, I hated being unprepared. My important notes were in this briefcase. Walking backward now, I dragged it along the sidewalk. Then something caught my eye. Senator Phil Peterson’s fiancé Alexis stared at me through the closed window of a car. From the vehicle, she watched me as the car crept along, keeping pace with me. Behind the pane of glass, Alexis pounded on the window. Terror filled her eyes. She was in trouble. When I let go of the briefcase and reached for her car door, something stopped me. My ankle was shackled and chained to a concrete pillar. I couldn’t remove it, let alone reach forwa
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife Dark room
I woke in a quiet, dark room with a pounding headache. It took time to regain my bearings, as if I’d been out of my body for a long time. A shadowy figure sat near me. I summoned my strength to stay conscious and noticed a gentle stroking on the back of my hand. Richard.I whispered his name.“Shh. Stay quiet, Thena.” He touched my cheek and pushed my hair away from my face. “Sleep, Thena. I am here.” He kissed my forehead and the back of my hand. “Sleep.”Safe and protected, I slid back into dreamless slumber. Distant sounds of a beeping monitor crept into my awareness, and I realized I must be in a hospital. I heard an occasional phone ringing down the hall and the low, muted drum of rain beating on the window. “Good morning.” Richard’s voice. Then another, more gruff. “How’s my favorite lawyer doing?” Jeff. “Is she awake?”“Not yet,” Richard said from beside me. “Well, I hope they’re taking care of her.”“Believe me, I’m making sure,” Richard said.I let my eyelids flutter
Last Updated : 2022-10-13The Billionare's Pretend Wife Love
I’m not taking the Anna Fiske case” I said to Dorman Sr. In his office, awkward silence hovered in the air like a deflated helium balloon as my boss weighed my bold statement.Dorman clicked a ball point pen. The sound echoed off the wall of books to my right. “Perry Ward came to me and directly requested you, Wil. He and I both believe that you’re the best lawyer for the job.” In the doorway behind me, Perry looked worried. In the meeting last week, I decided what was best for me, I just hadn’t known how to go about it. Now, I nodded at her then took control.I planted my high heels on the carpet. “I won’t represent Perry Ward. Give him to Domie.” Dorman appeared confused. “Why are you arguing this one, Wil?”“Because I’ve earned that right. I won’t take the case.” Adding fuel to Dorman’s fiery red discomfort, I said, “Richard Mackenzie and I are no longer under contract.” A muscle twitched in Dorman’s neck. “I thought you’d keep him under contract for the other services that the f
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
