Enchanted: (Billionaire Venture Capitalist #8): A Fake Fiancée Romance Page 17

  She’s facedown in the duvet, groaning and moaning into the blanket to muffle her cries as I continue my merciless pounding. Her ass jiggling as I lunge into her as hard and fast as I can. Sweat’s pouring off me now, and I can feel how slick her skin is under my hands too.

  Slap, slap, slap. Over and over.

  “Quinn!” I gasp, my eyes wide as I feel my balls tighten all the way up and my strokes get even harder. My hands grip her hips so hard, I’m sure they’ll leave marks. The duvet balled in her fists, she pushes her ass back into me as hard as she can.

  “Now, oh fuck, please,” she cries out. I feel her clench, clamping down like a spongy vice around me, and all the muscles in her sides seize up. I feel her cum. The sensations intensify and build as she gets so much wetter, and that’s it. I’m right there. I slam into her one last time, as hard and deep as I can, grinding my pelvis against her. With my cock as deep as it will go and her pussy pulsing around me all wet and wonderful, my whole world explodes like a bomb.

  She gasps and drops her head into the duvet, and I hear her muffled scream. Her back flexes and her whole body goes rigid as she tries to push back harder into me. I’ve never come at exactly the same time as a woman before, so this is without pale.

  Unreal.

  “Holy shit.” I hear her say as she raises her face out of the blanket and turns to look over her shoulder at me, my cock still buried to the hilt in her ravaged pussy.

  “Yeah, that was so awesome.”

  I hiss as her pussy clenches around me again, and then she reaches back underneath her and between her legs, and I feel her fingers on either side of my cock, brushing her soaked lips, and she tenses again.

  Feeling my rising cock, she smiles and shakes her head. “You need to behave. I'm going to be so sore in the morning.” She moves forward, causing my cock to slip from her body, and leans up and kisses me once really hard. “So much for the movie.”

  “We can still watch it.”

  She snuggles in, and her eyes close. “Maybe another night.”

  I kiss the top of her head. “I want to wake with you tomorrow morning.”

  She’s already asleep, and I hold her tight. I’m absolutely, without a doubt, in love with this woman. Nothing will ever change that.

  Chapter twenty-one

  Quinn

  I look out at the park for the last time. I’m ready to head home to San Francisco, but I’ve really had fun here in Philadelphia. I’d love to spend more time wandering the city and exploring where my country began, and I wouldn’t mind a few more cheesesteaks. They’re the perfect food with a large side of fries. As I daydream about cheesesteaks, William pops his head into my room. “Ready?”

  “I’ll be ready in just a few minutes. Let me just pack up my final things.”

  “Great. Gerald will be downstairs in fifteen minutes. Do you think that will work?”

  “It’ll be no problem.”

  “I have a few things to throw in my bag myself. I’ll meet you in the living room.” He pivots to walk away but comes back. “Thank you again for coming with me. I would have been lost this week without you.” He reaches for my hand, and I let him hold it. An electric jolt runs through me, but it also causes a bit of heartache. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop myself from falling for him. “It was very kind of you to invite me. I’m happy I was of some help.”

  “I need to get you back to San Francisco before you realize there are other places to live.”

  I yearn to hear him tell me he loves me and can’t live without me, but I know reality. He doesn’t do relationships, and he most certainly doesn’t want a relationship with a woman who is almost two hundred thousand dollars in debt and works doing phone sex as a second job. Rather than let him decimate my heart when he wishes me well and tells me he’ll see me around, I jump in. “Are we taking that big plane back again?”

  He chuckles. “Yes, it’s the only plane the company has.”

  I nod. “It just feels like such a waste of money in so many ways.”

  “I agree with you. But this way we have Gerald and his team with us when we travel.” He starts to say something else, but his phone rings. Before he answers, he says, “I’ll meet you in the living room when you’re ready.”

  William is on the phone all the way to the airport and while we board. I get it. We’ve been out of the office for a week on short notice. Life doesn’t stop when we aren’t in the office. I wasn’t as busy, so I was able to keep up a little better each evening, but I never had time to do my second job. That is going to bite me in the ass hard when I get home.

  As we enter the plane, the flight attendant is blubbering again about William’s father. He finally disconnects from his call and talks to her. I get myself set up on the Wi-Fi and put my headset on to listen to a little bit of music while I go through my emails.

  William finds a spot on the other side of the cabin, doing essentially the same thing. He’s so handsome it makes my heart hurt. I know I’ll fall into a pit of blackness that will pull me in if I don’t protect myself. Wishing our circumstances were different, I wipe away a tear from my eye.

  When we land in San Francisco, Gerald brings the car around. It takes only a few minutes, but we’re hardly on the ground when William’s phone rings. The office knows we’ve landed, and they’ve tracked us down. He’s on the phone all the way to my apartment. Gerald stops, and William gives me the one finger hold-on-a-second motion.

  I smile warmly at him before kissing him softly on the cheek and mouthing to him, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow at the office.” I get out of the car and climb the stairs to my tiny one-bedroom apartment.

  Having lugged my suitcase up three flights of stairs, I’m out of breath as I push my door open, ignoring the note from my landlord that was pushed under the door. My rent’s late and he’s looking for it. Nothing like the oppression of overdue bills to greet you after having spent a week in a five-star hotel.

  I’m exhausted. Despite my apartment’s tiny size, I have a bathtub—a big, beautiful bathtub. I start the water and begin to fill the bath with glorious bubbles that I took from my bathroom at the Rittenhouse.

  As I soak in the tub, I realize I feel like I’ve broken up with William without a big argument or fight. The lack of drama leaves my heart with the option of the possibility of more. I begin to cry, feeling the heartbreak of not being able to be anything more than what we are. I knew this before I left, but I think in the back of my mind, I hoped for him to fall madly in love with me and save me from my mess. Unfortunately, it’s my mess. I made it, and I have to clean it up.

  The water is becoming tepid, and the bubbles are almost all popped. I hate to get out, but when my phone rings, I figure it’s time. Glancing at the caller ID, I’m happy to see it’s CeCe.

  “Hey,” she says.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  “I hear you’re back in San Francisco.”

  “We just landed, and I’m decompressing.”

  “Any interest in getting together for dinner tonight?”

  My finances are a mess, but I quickly realize I have a good excuse. “I don’t know. I’ve eaten out so much this week. I was just going to have a sandwich here.”

  “I have a better idea. Why don’t you come over here and have dinner at my place? I’ll invite the girls and, we’ll make it a girls night. I’m not totally lost in the kitchen, and we can catch up.”

  I laugh. “You cook?”

  “I didn’t say it was going to be something you’d find in a restaurant; I may not cook every day, but I can make a mean grilled chicken.”

  “Sounds perfect. What can I bring?”

  “If you have a bottle of wine at home, you can bring that, but otherwise just bring yourself. I may invite some of the other girls over if that’s okay?”

  “Sounds good to me.” I hang up, and the cloud of depression steps back as I remind myself that my love life may be a disaster, but at least I have friends, and I know they’re
good friends. Also, if someone likes CeCe can be in this city and still not be married then you know there’s something wrong with the city.

  After I throw on a pair of jeans, boots, and a sweater, I grab a bottle of red wine in one hand and white in the other and catch a rideshare to CeCe’s. She lives in the posh neighborhood of Pacific Heights. Her beautiful home overlooks the bay with a stunning view of the Golden Gate, Alcatraz, and Marin. When I ring the bell, she answers the door herself in jeans and bare feet. She looks like she has money, but you’d never guess she is one of the richest women in the world.

  “You made it!” she gushes.

  “I did.” I step inside the foyer, and she takes my coat and both bottles of wine.

  “White and red. We could mix them together and make rose.” She giggles.

  “Just don’t tell Greer.”

  “You’re so right. Come on back. Emerson just arrived, and Hadlee and Cynthia should be here any time.”

  I walk back into the kitchen, and Emerson stands and gives me a big hug. “So, how did it go?”

  “I feel bad for William. His stepmother is a piece of work. I don’t envy his position.” I don’t want to say too much and share things that are inappropriate.

  “Oh, good grief,” CeCe says as she rolls her eyes.

  “His father was rather clever actually. He was generous to everyone so no one could contest the will saying they were left out,” I share.

  “Oh, that is good.” Emerson nods.

  “I got to explore Philly a bit and wouldn’t mind going back and really playing tourist. William showed me around one afternoon, and I saw so much, and some of the food was to die for.”

  “Did you have a Philly cheesesteak sandwich?” CeCe asks.

  “I did, and I’m grateful they aren’t made here. It was amazing. I’d be as wide as I am tall if I ate them every day.”

  “What are your plans with William moving forward?” Emerson asks.

  I shrug. “We really don’t have anything else in our plans. I believe Mason called as we were leaving the hotel, and they talked all the way as we drove to the airport and until we had to close the door. I think we said ten words to each other this morning. We’re already back to our routine. We go back to work and ignore one another.”

  “Well, that sounds pretty sucky,” Emerson chides.

  I agree, but it’s the best way to work together and not fall apart. Once the girls all arrive, we all talk about our men. CeCe is getting pretty hot and heavy with her European prince. I’ve seen them in the tabloids, and they are a striking couple.

  When Emerson announces she’s pregnant, that’s the end of boyfriend talk.

  “I had better be your pediatrician,” Hadlee admonishes.

  “Don’t you worry. You’re the one.”

  “Will you find out if it’s a boy or a girl? It makes it so much easier to plan showers that way,” Cynthia muses.

  “I’m just past the twelve-week mark, so we can find out shortly. I figure it’s a surprise when you find out regardless of when.”

  “You don’t have to tell us the name, only the sex,” CeCe assures her.

  “Well, I may need reinforcements. Dillon is looking for strong Greek names.”

  My brow furrows. “I’m confused. I thought he was Irish?”

  “He is, but he’s got it in his head to call a boy Marcus Aurelius and a girl Copernicus,” Emerson says in exasperation.

  “Okay, wasn’t Copernicus the man who was first to say the world wasn’t flat? I thought he was a German philosopher.”

  “Thank you! That was him, and the fact that Copernicus is German helps,” Emerson agrees.

  “And Marcus Aurelius was a Roman Emperor who was part of a century-long prosperity and peace in Rome if I remember correctly,” Hadlee hesitantly shares.

  The evening moves on like this all night. I sit back and listen to the girls. If I leave San Francisco, I’ll really miss them.

  It’s after midnight when Emerson drops me at my place. “Have a great night. I’m looking forward to seeing you in the morning.”

  I wave goodbye. “Congratulations again! I’m so happy for you and Dillon.”

  It’s really late for me, and I’m exhausted. I’m just barely able to wash my face and brush my teeth before I fall into bed. It’s fun to think that this morning I woke up in Philadelphia and I’ll fall asleep in San Francisco. Thankfully, I’m so tired that I only give William a half second of thought before I crash.

  Chapter twenty-two

  William

  I’m kicking myself for not having the conversation I wanted to have with Quinn. On the flight home, she definitely started putting up some serious walls that I need to work on taking down.

  Once we hit the tarmac and got in the car, my phone rings. Mason and Dillon’s call couldn’t have come at a worse time. All the way into the city, we discussed some of the challenges we’re having with one of my most recent acquisitions. It’s good to be back though. I’m glad to be away from Philadelphia, and I can think about something other than the chaos that comes with my father.

  Our flight attendant is awfully upset. I know she cared about my dad, but I find it hard to believe they were involved. She insisted on sending me a recording of a phone call she had with my dad before he died. First, my dad was always super professional. I find it difficult to believe that he’d have an affair. I remember when a member of his leadership team had an affair with his secretary. He fired the guy and told everyone that Bettencourt Industries had no room for people with questionable ethics. He believed in the sanctity of marriage. Despite the challenges he might have been having with Lillian, I just don’t see him having an affair.

  Gerald drops me at home and informs me he and another gentleman will be rotating shifts and someone will be with me at all times. If I want to go anywhere, I need to give them about fifteen minute’s notice. I’m too tired to think about anything other than my bed calling my name.

  I have mail on the kitchen table. How do I get so much junk mail? I don’t even look through it. Instead, I head right to my room, leaving my suitcase in the front hall. I’m ready to take a quick nap, and then I’m going to call Quinn.

  As I lie in bed, I formulate my plan. After my nap, I’m going to take her to dinner at the Italian restaurant nearby, and I’m going to convince her that she needs to move in with me. It’ll take the pressure off her so she can quit her second job. She won’t have to worry about rent anymore, and she can concentrate on paying off her school loans while living here for free, and if I’m lucky and things go well, we’ll talk about what our next steps are. I’d happily pay off her school loans, but I know how proud she is, and I doubt she’d ever allow that. I want to take care of her for the rest of our lives.

  I drift off to sleep, and when I roll over it’s dark. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s after nine. How did I oversleep? Shit! It’s too late for dinner. She’s most likely eaten and is in bed. Dammit! If I call her now, it’ll sound like a booty call. My cock stiffens in my pants at the thoughts of Quinn and a booty call. All the sex we had all week was amazing. I’ve never felt such a connection with anybody. I can’t resist. I want to see her. I don’t want to wake her just in case she’s gone to bed, so I pull out my phone and text her.

  Me: Hey. You up for a late dinner tonight?

  Crickets. She’s not responding. Bummer. She’s probably gone to bed. She probably didn’t do what I did and crash as soon as she got home. Damn! I’m mad at myself for missing her.

  Then I remember Marjorie insisted on sending me that recording of her conversation with my dad. I have no idea why, but I wouldn’t mind hearing my dad’s voice. It seems a little too convenient that she just happened to have a recording while the FBI are conducting an investigation. I listen to the message, and it’s nothing that I expected. I listen to it a few times, and some things strike me as funny. The naughty talk between the two of them grosses me out. I mean it’s my dad, of course there’s a ick factor, but there’
s something wrong with it.

  “Hi. What are you wearing?” a female voice says.

  “I am naked. What are you wearing?” says a voice that may be my father. I’ve always preferred to think of my father as asexual. As I listen carefully to how they speak instead of what they’re saying, I realize the conversation doesn’t seem to flow naturally. They aren’t using contractions, and the conversation is stilted. My best guess would be that they’re reading something. I’ve never heard my father have phone sex with someone, but it doesn’t seem relaxed. There is no chemistry between the two supposed lovers.

  “I love it when you make me come.”

  “You are the only one who can get me erect.”

  Who the hell says “erect”?

  This is not a real call.

  They both have orgasms that would make a porn star blush. This is just awkward. Then without a second thought, they change subjects. No afterglow. No heavy breathing. “I spoke with Tully Fitzgerald today. He is going to give me two hundred thousand dollars. That will give me the money to pay back Mercer Miller.”

  “That is really great. You have been worried Mercer would tell everyone he could not get his money out of the scheme.”

  “I think I have Johnathan Raymond on the hook for almost a million dollars,” my dad says.

  “That would be a relief. Do not forget you promised me a shopping trip in Paris,” she says.

  “I am in love with you, bunny. We will take our money and go hide in Paris, and you can buy whatever you want. Bettencourt Industries will go into bankruptcy, and we will be far away from it.”

  “Oh, lover, I am yours forever. I cannot wait to be with you all of the time.”

  As I listen to the recording over and over, there are a couple of nuances that don’t add up. The person on the tape uses a hard T in Bettencourt. My father always used a soft T. It would sound more like Bettencore.

  I don’t know what to do with this. I wish I could call Quinn and ask her her opinion. Plus, I still can’t understand how somebody “accidentally” recorded a phone call. I don’t have any idea on how to do it on purpose, let alone do it on accident. This just doesn’t make any sense to me.