Interview with the Billionaire Read online

  “Of course.”

  She turned back to him, her smile as mischievous as his own. But it wasn’t humor that pulsed in his veins, especially not when she shrugged out of the robe, letting it fall to a heap on the floor as she walked toward him. “Whatever you need, Damien. Whenever you need it.”

  “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

  “I think I have a clue,” she said, sliding into his arms. “I’m pretty sure we’re breaking every social rule in the book. My mother would be having a fit.”

  “Makes it all the more exciting doesn’t it?”

  “Hell, yes,” she said, then gasped as he cupped her naked ass and pulled her closer so that her body pressed against his cock, already blissfully, painfully hard.

  “Tell me what you want from me, Mr. Stark.”

  “You’ve already given me everything I could ever want. Right now, I just want to enjoy what’s mine.”

  She grinned. “That would be pretty much everything across many acres. Not to mention huge chunks of Los Angeles. And the world for that matter.”

  “You’re thinking far too big. The only possession I intend to enjoy right now is the one in this room with me.”

  Her eyes widened as she looked around the room. “The bed? The furniture? Or perhaps the light fixtures?”

  “You.”

  She eased to the bed and sat at the foot. “Mr. Stark, are you suggesting that I’m your possession? That you own me?”

  “I’m not suggesting at all. I’m stating it outright.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that. Do you have a bill of sale? Some sort of contract? After all, transfer of title is a highly regulated transaction. You should be able to provide proof of ownership.”

  He patted himself down, then aimed a frown at her as he took a step closer. “I seem to have misplaced the documents. I wonder if I could provide you some other proof?”

  He moved closer still so that she had to lean back and tilt her head up to look at him. “And what kind of proof would that be?” she asked.

  “Familiarity with my property, for starters. An intimate knowledge. How this lovely trinket I own feels.”

  “Trinket?” The laughter in her voice faded into a needy moan as he slid his fingertip deep inside her cunt, then traced it up to her cleavage. “How it tastes,” he continued, then slipped his finger into his mouth as her eyes locked on his. “How to best enjoy it,” he added, once again taking her hips and pulling her toward him so that her hot skin was pressed against his slacks, and his hands were sliding down her backside, on a mission to tease her ass.

  “Well, it’s not ideal, Mr. Stark.” Her voice was reedy, as if passion was making her desperate for air. “But I suppose if you don’t have the paperwork, you can continuing trying to prove ownership. I warn you, though. I’ll take a lot of convincing.”

  “I’m nothing if not diligent. And very, very thorough.” On the last, he picked her up at the waist and tossed her onto the bed. She cried out, the sound muffled when he slid on top of her, his mouth closing over her breast as his fingers slipped inside her.

  “Nikki.”

  He spoke her name like a prayer. And why not? She was a goddess as far as he was concerned. She’d given him life. She’d given him everything. And he intended to give everything back in return.

  “You’re mine,” he murmured. “Tell me.”

  “Yours,” she said. “Oh, god, yes.”

  He rolled to the side, then got off the bed, tossing his suit jacket aside. Then he held out his hand for her.

  She took it without question, and he led her to the glass door and onto the side of the balcony that faced away from their pool deck, giving them complete privacy from anyone down there.

  “Here,” he said, putting her hands on the railing. It was glass and iron, and though their property extended down to the distant beach and there was no one else in sight, just the thought that someone might see them excited him. Because she was his, and damned if he didn’t want everyone to know it.

  He eased closer behind her, one hand teasing her nipple, the other sliding between her legs to play with her clit.

  “You’re so wet. Is it me or the possibility of being seen?”

  “You. Always you.”

  “But?”

  “Maybe it’s a little of both.”

  He chuckled. “Close your eyes. Keep them closed.” He brushed his lips over the edge of her ear. “Do you see them? The people coming to the beach? The boats on the water with their binoculars and telescopes. What if they turned this way. What if they looked up? What would you do?”

  “Whatever you told me to.”

  “Good answer,” he said as he thrust his fingers inside her, then teased the spot that always made her squirm.

  “Do you want me to fuck you like this? Claiming your ass with my cock, and your cunt with my fingers? Pressing you up against the edge so that you’re trapped between me and the glass with no where to go and the whole world watching? Do you want that? Does it excite you?”

  “Yes. Oh, please, yes.” Her voice trembled, but she didn’t need to speak to answer. Her body shouted what she wanted. Hell, what she needed.

  What he needed, too.

  “Don’t move,” he said, then hurried inside, only to return minutes later with lube. “I’m going to make you explode,” he promised as he teased her ass with slick fingers, while his other hand played with her clit.

  “You’re so wet, baby,” he said. “And I’m so hard.” He unzipped the pants that cost more than some cars, then pressed the tip of his rock-hard cock to her ass. She whimpered in protest when he pulled his hand away from her clit to tease her ass cheeks, and he felt her back go rigid as he eased inside her, then relax as she whispered, “Yes. Damien, please, yes,” as he moved slowly inside her, letting her adjust to the feel of him.

  “More,” she said, but when he moved his hand back around to tease her clit, he found her own fingers there. “Naughty,” he said. “I like it.” He gave her ass one quick smack for disobeying and felt the sigh of pleasure run through her entire body. Then he put his hand on hers and brushed his lips against her ear. “We’re going to do this together, baby.”

  “Yes. And Damien?”

  “What is it baby.”

  “Harder. Your cock. Please. Ride me harder.”

  He was happy to oblige. He held her steady with one hand on her hip as he fucked her ass, his fingers fucking her as she teased her clit. She was so close. So was he. And with every one of her gasps and moans, he edged closer to release.

  “Don’t stop.,” she begged. “Don’t stop.”

  “Never. I want to stay like this forever. Lost inside you. Touching you. Hearing the sounds you make when you’re aroused. Knowing it’s me you want.”

  “Only you. Only ever you—Damien.”

  He felt the explosion come on, and he took his hand away long enough to cover her mouth just in case the kids were outside when she screamed, her body going wild around him, tightening, thrumming, bringing him all the way over.

  Until finally, his body left hers, and he stumbled back.

  “Don’t move. Keep your eyes closed.”

  She nodded, and he went into the bathroom, then returned with a damp towel to clean them both up.

  Are your eyes still closed?

  “Yes.”

  “There’s someone down there.”

  She tensed.

  “They watched us baby. They watched us the whole time.”

  “Damien…”

  He kissed her earlobe. “We’re alone. But the thought excited you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Me, too. I’ll take you back to Masque soon. I think my wife might like to try new things.”

  “She might,” Nikki said. “But I want to be blindfolded.”

  “Do you? Why?”

  “Because I’d never know for sure if someone was watching. If they were getting off watching us. And I like the maybe.”

  “You like the knife edge.”

  “I do. And in case you couldn’t tell, she added, sliding his hand between her legs, “I also liked what we did just now very, very much.”

  “Ten-twenty,” he said as he slipped back into his suit jacket. He’d settled on the Desmond Merrion bespoke suit he’d picked up in London on his last trip. It wasn’t a suit that suggested power. On the contrary, it shouted it from the rooftops. He’d worked hard to hone the skill of quiet intimidation. A handy skill in business negotiations.

  Today, he was more than happy to use that particular skill with Lena.

  “Ten minutes to spare,” Nikki said. “I don’t even know what to do with myself.”

  “Care for a quickie?”

  She’d bent down to scratch Sunshine, their cat. Now she glanced up at him, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You’re insatiable. It’s one of your finer qualities,” she added making him laugh. “Although right now I think it’s less about lusting after your doting wife, and more about avoiding the woman waiting for us downstairs.”

  “You do know me well.”

  “Come on, Mr. Stark,” she said, abandoning the cat as she slipped on a pair of heeled sandals that complemented her classically styled sheath dress. “I think it’s showtime.”

  They took the elevator rather than the stairs to the first level, giving them a chance to swing by the playroom where Bree was keeping the kids occupied. As soon as they stepped into the room, cries of Mama! Daddy! Mommy! filled the room, along with the patter of three pairs of little feet barreling toward them.

  “Miss Bree says lots of people are coming today,” Lara said.

  “And for pictures,” Anne added.

  “Daddy! Daddy! Look at me! Look at me!”

  “I see you,” Damien said, scoopi
ng up their dark-haired son, Bradley, a precocious three-year-old. “And yes,” he told his girls, “we’re going to do some pictures, and then you’re going to get to spend most of the day with Aunt Sylvia and Uncle Jackson.”

  “Jeffery, too?”

  “And Ronnie?”

  “Are they coming over, too?”

  “What about Aunt Jamie?”

  “What about Grandpa and Evie?”

  The questions poured out of the kids like rocket-fire, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Apparently Nikki couldn’t either, because he could hear the chuckle in her voice when she dove into the fray to answer their questions. “Yes, your cousins are coming. And Grandpa and Evelyn. There’s a lady here who’s writing an article about Daddy, so she wants to meet his family and some of his friends and co-workers. It’s going to be mostly boring, so Aunt Sylvia and Jackson will talk to her first, then you’ll go home with them. Deal?”

  “Deal!” Bradley said from where he squirmed at Damien’s hip.

  “What do you need me to do to get them ready?”

  “Not a thing,” Nikki assured her. “I’ll take care of it. Not that there’s much to do. They all have drawers at Syl and Jackson’s place.”

  “What about here? Sounds like it’s going to be a crush. Would you like me to help?”

  “I thought you were on deadline?” Bree had recently sold the book she’d written after moving back to LA and enrolling in a low residency MFA program.

  “Don’t all writers procrastinate?”

  Nikki rolled her eyes. “Well, we don’t need any help with people wrangling, but my guess is she’ll want to talk with you, too. Especially since we’re not letting her interview the kids.”

  “I want to talk to the lady, Mommy. Why can’t I?”

  “Because those are the rules, kiddo,” Damien said. “You know that.”

  He and Nikki had implemented a strict no-press rule when they adopted Lara. Not that they avoided talking about the kids publicly, but they highly edited their comments.

  As for the kids, they gave no interviews. Not now, anyway. Probably not until they turned eighteen and could decide for themselves if they wanted to step fully into those shark-infested waters.

  He and Nikki had discussed backing off that policy once they reached high school. As Jamie and Evelyn had both pointed out, practice makes perfect. Better to learn how to play it close to the vest when you’re still young enough to have an adult who can shush you standing right there.

  It was, Damien knew, a sound policy. The press training he’d received when he’d been playing tennis had turned out to be a boon for his current life, and had given him an easy confidence even back when he held his very first press conference upon the founding of Stark International.

  He gave Lara his stern-dad look, and she wiped the pout off her face. “Okay, Daddy. I love you.”

  “You, too, kiddo.” He made eye contact with the three of them. “Best behavior, okay? Everyone ready to go meet Ms. Bridge? All right, then,” he said, after seeing their enthusiastic nods.

  He glanced at Nikki and Bree. “Shall we?”

  They moved down the hall to where it opened onto the first floor living area, then found Lena—Maggie—still perusing what was presumably a list of interview notes.

  She stood as they entered, then caught Damien’s eye. He wasn’t sure if her expression was smug or apologetic. Not that it mattered. She might be here, but they would play by his rules moving forward.

  “Maggie Bridge,” he said, and watched the way her eyes widened slightly. Apparently she’d been expecting a blow-up. “I’d like you to meet my family.”

  “It’s a pleasure,” Maggie said, moving forward to shake Nikki’s outstretched hand.

  “I’m Nikki,” she said, “though I imagine you already knew that. And these three are Bradley, Lara, and Anne.” The girls nodded and smiled when Nikki spoke their names, but Bradley only snuggled closer to Damien.

  “I’m so glad we were able to work this out.”

  “I assure you we wouldn’t have if I’d know who you were before we set the time and date.”

  Maggie swallowed. “Yes, well. I’m sorry about that.” She turned to Nikki. “I assume he’s told you that I was something of a b-i-t-c-h in the past.”

  “I’d say that’s an accurate summation.”

  “Then I owe you a thank you as well for letting me into your home despite being a shit to your husband. Oh! Sorry,” she added, with a quick look at the kids.

  Damien softened a little. The reaction seemed genuine, and he appreciated that she was making the effort. He caught Nikki’s eye and realized she was thinking the same thing.

  “So how is this going to work?” Nikki asked. “The interviews, I mean. Evelyn mentioned you wanted family and close friends. Are we all going to sit around a table chatting while you take notes? And however you manage it, you’ll need to cut Jackson and Sylvia loose early. They’re going to be taking these three back with them.”

  “Not a problem,” Maggie said, her voice no longer holding any hint of stress. Apparently she’d come into the interview with the same trepidation he’d had. “I’m happy to make that work”

  Maybe Evelyn was right; maybe she really was making a fresh start. If so, Damien applauded her. But while he hoped that was the case, he would reserve judgment until he was certain.

  “So we’ll start the interviews with Jackson and Sylvia. I’ll talk to them as a couple, then invite you and Nikki to join us,” she added, looking at Damien. “The interview is about you turning forty and the work you’ve done, your relationship with Nikki, your family life. Basically, the man behind the Stark International machine. But since it’s being released in conjunction with the Sport Center dedication, I’ll be sure and include plenty of Jackson in the article.”

  “All that sounds fine.”

  “I’d like to interview you two after that—not a complete interview, as I expect we’ll take a few sessions today and tomorrow. We’ll cover basic territory, then anything that I want to follow up from the Steele interview. Then I’ll talk with another set of your friends, and we’ll repeat until we call it a day. Then finish up tomorrow.”

  “Sounds like a solid plan.” And he was relieved that she seemed like the consummate professional. Maybe she’d just needed some years to grow up. God knew they all did.

  “We’ll start with the family photo. You said everyone was arriving at eleven?” She glanced at her watch as Damien did the same.

  “Just under fifteen minutes. People will begin arriving anytime.”

  “I thought we could have the pool in the background. Do you mind if I go get the tripod set up and take a look at the lighting situation?”

  He gestured toward the glass door that opened onto the deck. “Help yourself. We’ll bring folks out as they arrive. There’s a fridge behind the bar. Help yourself to water or soda or juice. Whatever you’d like.”

  She gave him the sweet smile that he recalled from the first time they’d met at a mutual acquaintance’s dinner party. Then she picked up her camera bag and headed outside, sliding the door closed behind her.

  “So she’s not the devil,” Nikki said.

  “Devil!” Bradley squealed, making Nikki wince.

  Damien set him down, then rolled his shoulder. Thankfully, he still played tennis and worked out; as he’d learned from his first two kids, toddler toting was surprisingly challenging.

  “Okay, you three,” Nikki said. “Run on back to Bree and tell her it’s time to get cleaned up for pictures.”

  “Pictures!” Anne said, jumping up and down and clapping, which, of course, made Bradley do the same. And made Lara roll her eyes as she herded her little brother and sister out of the room.

  “She’s growing up too fast,” Damien said.

  Nikki laughed. “She thinks she is.”

  “She’s sure she is,” he countered, as he took his wife’s hand. “They say it goes by too fast. They’re right.”

  “Yeah. They are.”

  He tugged her to a stop, then kissed her, needing the feel of her against him. The solidarity that was them. “I love you,” he said as they drew apart.

  “I know. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  He laughed, then pulled her close, noticing Maggie by the pool, looking in their direction, her expression unreadable. Melancholy, perhaps. He assumed she still hadn’t found someone to share her life with.