The Billionaires’ Prize (The Heiress Merger #2)

19. Katherine

19

KATHERINE

Alex stares down at me with a mixture of challenge and confidence in his eyes.

“You’re thinking you’re ready for your lunch.” My stomach is a tangle of knots, but I hold his gaze.

I might be sure of his desire for me, but I’ve never done anything like this at work. The door is shut. I know Charlotte and Roman will play interference, but?—

“I’m starving,” Alex murmurs, sinking to his knees.

Holy smokes.

My breathing turns to shallow pants as his hands skim my hips. He’s going to turn me into a ball of melted goo if he’s not careful. My anxiety skitters away when his fingers slip beneath my skirt, ghosting over my thigh highs. He’s so self-assured, and it’s rubbing off on me, leaving me bold and wanton.

He could have no idea how I’ve fantasized about this over the years.

But as he shoves my skirt up to my waist, his lips kissing all the inches he reveals, I realize maybe he’s been daydreaming about secret rendezvous, too.

He groans when he reaches my pale pink panties.

I always dress for myself, but I love that now I get to share all the pretty pieces I’ve collected. That he clearly likes them.

Alex nips my hip, his hands going to the elastic, then tugs it down.

Cool air rushes against my heated flesh. I step out of the panties, and he tucks them into his pocket. My stomach does a flip, but I don’t protest because the possessive move sends a tidal wave of arousal through me.

His eyes are almost black as he meets my gaze. There’s something incredibly sexy about a fully clothed man on his knees, ready to worship me. He’s straight out of my daydreams. I might not get any work done for the rest of the day, but when his hands glide up my legs, I don’t care.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, looking his fill.

I close my hands over the edge of my desk and spread my legs a little.

The first touch of his tongue to my clit sets off a tiny firework in my brain. I didn’t imagine how good it was with him the other night. How he seems to know exactly what I need when I need it.

My jaw drops as his licks intensify. Deeper. Longer. Quick little flutters. And everything in between.

His hands spread me wider, his grip utterly possessive, like he’s not going to let me get away. Like I’d go anywhere when I want nothing more than to stay right here in this bubble with him forever.

My nipples feel like marble beneath my bra, ready to poke through the fabric. Every breath makes them more sensitive, pressing them tighter and tighter.

He hooks a hand beneath my right leg, lifting it over his shoulder. My elbows give as he spears his tongue into my pussy. So eager. So thorough.

He’s going to make me scream, I just know it.

Alex reaches around me, shoving things off my desk so I can lie down. So hot. How does he know? My brain turns to mush. My body feels hazy and light, like I’d float right off the desk if he wasn’t holding me down with those big hands.

I want those hands all over me. Inside me. Stretching and pleasing me.

I sink back, too boneless to hold myself up.

“Spread your legs, Beauty.”

That deep voice unravels the last thread holding me back. The door’s closed. It’s lunchtime. Charlotte would knock before entering. There’s still a little thrill at the idea of being caught doing something so naughty. Because I’ve always been little Miss Perfect who never steps out of line.

Alex, Gabe, and Kingston are helping me spread my wings.

Grinning, I spread my legs wider, and his hands coast up the inside of my thighs. The best sounds rumble from his chest. Hungry, masculine groans that tell me exactly how much he’s enjoying himself.

A thick finger teases my pussy before thrusting deep. I slap a hand over my mouth.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispers. “We don’t want you getting into trouble.”

Yep. Straight out of my fantasies.

His words make me impossibly wetter, and as he drills that finger into me, curling it just right, the pressure inside me builds. I chase it down, wanting to fly. Wanting the heat rushing over my skin to spark and catch flame and let me burn.

I whimper behind my hand, and there’s a reciprocal groan against my pussy.

A few more flutters against my clit with that talented tongue, and I step off the ledge. My orgasm carries me away in a tide of bliss, filling every corner of my body with pleasure. I cry out my release and then bite my hand as my body locks around him, convulsing.

He holds still as I moan and twitch, trying and failing to stay quiet.

Slowly, I start to relax. Breathe. Feel the hardness of the desk beneath my shoulder blades.

But he doesn’t move.

I lift my head, looking down my body at him. Those dark eyes pin me where I lay, and a happy little shudder quakes through my torso.

“I’m still hungry,” he says.

The curve at the corner of his mouth is utterly sinful. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything like it. His lips are wet with my release, and he doesn’t smile much, so this is extra potent. But he’s looking at me like he could eat me for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the rest of his life.

I might just let him.

He gives me two more orgasms before I finally convince him to come up for air. He won’t let me return the favor, which I’ll make him pay for later.

“We need to eat,” I moan from my spot on my desk. He’s turned me into a happy blob of goo. Seriously, I might not have the structural integrity to sit up.

“You’re right,” he says in a low, gentle tone that reaches deep inside me and turns up the flame. “You’ll need your strength for later.”

He pulls me into a sitting position and then helps me stand, tugging my skirt back into place.

“Later?” I ask like I don’t know what might happen later. Like I don’t have plans to rock his world.

“Unfortunately, I have two meetings tonight, but I think Gabe and Kingston are free.”

He says it like they’re in on an inside joke together. Planning when they can see me and ravish me. I rather like that. That they’re teaming up. Conferring.

Every woman should be so lucky.

He grabs the bag and slides back into his seat, offering me a sandwich from a great deli about a block away. I wobble over to the mini fridge and grab us each a bottle of water.

“And I’m going to need my strength for that,” I say, still playing innocent.

I’m still boneless, so I curl up in his lap and eat my sandwich. Bless him, he doesn’t complain. Rather, he squeezes my hip and steals a bite of my club sandwich.

Being so close to him, touching him like this, rebuilds parts of me I didn’t know were broken. Well, maybe I did. I can ignore a lot, apparently.

Once we’re finished with our food, I throw away the trash and he pulls me into a hug.

“You make me want to cancel everything on my calendar.”

“Same.”

Wrapped in each other, we stare, sharing a quiet moment of mutual longing.

“Pesky jobs,” I say.

“Pesky,” he agrees.

“Check your calendar.” I walk him to the door. “So we can plan our date.”

He unlocks the door, and a thrill zings through my veins. How like him to keep me safe while letting me have the fantasy that anyone could have walked in on us.

He really is amazingly thoughtful. And so observant.

“Can’t wait,” he murmurs in that husky tone I like so much.

He presses a quick kiss to my lips and then opens the door, striding out with my underwear still in his pocket.

Two hours later, when I’m on the elevator, Roman at my side, I realize I really can’t wait to see Alex again. I certainly don’t expect him to cancel plans for me. I know how busy he is, and I know what to expect from a C-level. At least, I think I do.

“She’s expecting you,” my mother’s assistant says, waving me into the office.

I’m keenly aware that Alex kept my panties, but I did my best to put myself back together after our lunch break.

Mother looks up from the stack of papers on her desk and quickly tucks away her reading glasses. I fight to keep an even expression when what I really want is to roll my eyes. Billions of people wear glasses. Why should she be any different?

But she wants everyone to think she’s young and infallible.

“Katherine. . .” She pushes back from her desk and strides around it. Unlike me, she kept everything just as her father had it. Her office is practically a Chanler & Cort museum. The desk is too large for the space. Too large for her. And the leather chair is cracked and worn thin in spots, showing just how much time my grandfather spent here. As you’d expect, the air is stale and smells of a chemical cleaner.

“Charlotte said you wanted to see me.”

She sweeps me into a hug.

It’s automatic to hug her back, but her embrace is quick, with T-Rex arms that barely wrap around me before pulling away. A cloud of her expensive perfume remains, proof that she did, in fact, embrace me.

I blink like a confused owl.

Honestly, I couldn’t tell you the last time my mother hugged me. But after two days with Alex, Gabe, and Kingston, I understand the difference between this and a genuine connection.

They’re free with their affection. Touchy-feely, even.

Her lips turn down as she studies me and for a second, maybe less, I see the real her. She’s genuinely concerned. “I’ve been so worried.”

I lace my fingers in front of myself and struggle for even breathes and a neutral expression. My muscles, however, lose the battle of neutrality, and I make a mental note to schedule an appointment with my masseuse.

Is this how it’s going to be for the rest of my life?

A battle? Stomach aches and barely contained frustration making me vibrate in my stilettos?

“Here I am,” I say because I can tell she’s waiting for a response.

“How are you?” She starts to reach for me again, but it’s like she thinks better of it and her hand falls away.

My brows lift, and a little voice in the back of my mind sounds a warning. This is a new tactic from her. Showing concern isn’t something she’s troubled herself with in the past.

“I’m fine.”

Her chin lifts, and though her expression doesn’t change, I can read her mind. She wants more from me. More words. More emotion. Anything she can use.

“Amelia said you were in the Hamptons?” She takes a step back, waving her hand toward the chairs across from her desk.

My trip is public knowledge thanks to my lunch with Ford, so I nod. “I was.”

“With Ford.”

Do I detect a hint of hurt there?

“Yes.”

She circles the monstrous desk and perches in her chair.

There’s a knock at the door, and her assistant breezes in, handing her a small stack of memos before retreating.

“Excuse me a moment.” Mother puts her glasses back on, skims the slips of paper, and then sets them aside.

I’m used to the interruptions. The attention of a CEO is precious, and she’s been dedicated to the company longer than she’s been a mother. This is why I made a promise to myself a long time ago that if I ever have children, they come before work. I never wanted to dominate my mother’s life. But it would have been nice to feel like I was part of it. Not just a chess piece on a board or an accessory to show off to her friends.

“Have a seat,” she says.

I resist the urge to ask if this meeting will take long. My schedule isn’t empty, which I’m sure she knows. Just like she knows I won’t blow her off when she’s acting as my boss.

Steeling myself, I sit. Back straight, legs crossed at the ankles, hands folding in my lap. Just like she taught me.

Thank goodness this is one of my longer skirts. Still, a thrill runs through me. I can’t imagine my straight-laced, tightly wound mother ever doing something so scandalous as not wearing underwear in public. She probably sleeps in a bra.

“I hope you had a good time.” She gives one of her fake smiles, but there’s a hint of jealousy in her voice. Or maybe it’s derision.

“What can I do for you, Mother?”

“Do? Nothing. Darling, I just wanted to see you with my own eyes and make sure you’re okay. You sounded very. . . stressed on the phone.”

Stressed.

What she won’t say is I sounded firm and tired of her bull poop. She could give any public relations firm a run for their money with the way she spins things.

“I’m fine,” I say again because the less you say to someone like her, the less that can be used against you later.

“You said.”

I sit and wait.

Finally, she glances over at the date book on her desk. “While you’re here, I was thinking we could sync our schedules.”

The ball of dread in my throat slides down, landing heavily in my stomach. I take a deep breath and hold it.

Play the game, Katherine. Keep playing the game.

“Sure.” I give her a tight-lipped smile. “I didn’t bring mine?—”

“I’ll email you. Once you get past these”—she waves a hand as if she’s shooing away a pesky fly—“auction dates, there are a couple of events you’ll need to attend.”

“Of course.”

Need to attend. I mentally roll my eyes. What, like the world will melt down if I don’t?

Play the game. Get your inheritance. Another deep breath.

“We should set up a time to go over my trust, as well,” I say. “Just so I can make sure I have my Ts crossed.”

I watch her closely, looking for any sign of surprise or uneasiness. Is there anything else in there she hasn’t told me about? Either way, I think I’ll bring in my own attorney.

“Of course, darling.” There’s that word again. Buttering me up. But somehow, it’s not as powerful as it used to be. I’m not her darling anymore.

I’m Princess .

Katie Bird .

Wildfire .

She continues on without missing a beat. “We need your name in the paper for the correct reasons, right? If we’re going to find you a husband by October. . . Are you sure there’s no chance of getting back together with Tyler?”

I’m reeling from her first statement and almost miss her question.

Husband by October. Back together with Tyler.

What is that buzzing sound? It’s so annoying. And why is it so hot in here?

“He’s from an excellent family, Katherine. He’s smart and good-looking and ambitious.”

She keeps going, listing Tyler’s virtues as if he’s a real estate investment. I want to tell her to marry him herself if she’s so keen on him.

“He’s a climber, mother.”

“Oh, Katherine. When are you going to grow up? We’re all climbers.”

I’m not.

The thought is swift and decisive.

Is that why she married James Winthrop? Is that why she divorced my father? He’s about the farthest thing I can imagine from a social climber.

“We have different priorities and interests.”

Mother shoves the planner away. “Is this about that silly play?”

And there it is. Her true colors.

So, all that worry wasn’t for me as a person.

The Botox doesn’t let her brows move, but I read the expression on her perfect face. Annoyance. Frustration. Disappointment and disapproval.

“Seriously, Katherine. I don’t know what’s going on with you lately. Is this a delayed teenage rebellion?” She pushes back from the desk. Then, her voice drops as if she’s speaking to herself. “I never should have let you go off to that school.”

“Harvard?”

“Yes, Harvard. And with that roommate.” She sighs.

Don’t take the bait. Do not take the bait.

“You know how important it is to move in the right circles, darling. I don’t understand why you insist on making things harder for yourself.”

“You mean harder for you.”

Her chin jerks back as if I punched her. Beneath the elegant suit jacket, her chest lifts on a deep breath. Here it comes. The temper she’s never been able to completely hide. Grandfather led with his outbursts. Mom keeps hers close to the vest.

My stomach tightens into a nest of knots.

But somehow, she keeps her temper. “Yes, harder for me. I’m trying to protect you, and you insist on doing your own thing.”

“You were protecting me when you offered me up on a public stage?”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “When are you going to stop throwing that in my face?”

“When are you going to stop holding Harvard over my head? It’s Harvard, Mother. One of the top schools in the world. I got the degree you wanted?—”

“I don’t have time to go through this again.”

My eyes go wide. I bet I look like a cartoon character.

“Again?” She’s got to be kidding. She built a story in her head about a conversation we never had.

“That’s in the past. Let’s leave it there and concentrate on meeting the terms of your trust. Tyler’s the obvious choice. He’ll understand that you have to go on a date with Alexander and Gabriel.” She sneers as she says his name.

The walls feel closer than they did a few moments ago, and I grip the arms of the chair, trying to breathe through the tension. My bra tightens around me like a boa constrictor, and my vision dims at the edges, panic climbing up my throat. My watch vibrates, and I tip it to see the screen. High heart rate.

Ohmygod . I can’t pass out in my mother’s office with no underwear on.

Oblivious to my distress, she stands and paces over to the corner window. Is she going to forbid me from seeing them? Could she do that? She pulls the strings of my job and my inheritance.

“Your grandfather would lose his mind if he knew you were going on a date with that man. Thank goodness he isn’t here to see it. Or read the papers.”

“He changed the rules, Mother. I don’t really care what he would think.”

She wheels on me then, blue eyes blazing as she closes the distance between us. Bile rises in my throat, but I lift my chin because I learned at a very young age to never cower in front of people like her. My grandfather used it against me more than once.

He lived for confrontation. I like to think he died because of it. Too much stress on the heart.

Stress I don’t want.

Conflict that I happily shy away from.

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” she yells. “If you want your inheritance, you’ll meet the terms by your twenty-fifth birthday.”

“It would have been helpful to know what those conditions were,” I muse. Somehow, I doubt my grandfather updated things the week before he died. Especially since his death was sudden.

“How long did you know?” I demand.

She scoffs and backs off.

I stand, needing to be on a level playing field. “Or maybe the better question is, why didn’t you fight for me? Do you think I need a husband to be a savvy business?—”

“Of course I don’t, Katherine.”

That’s maybe the first honest thing she’s said to me today. Almost a compliment.

“You know Gabe has more money than Tyler,” I say, unable to resist poking the bear.

“Oh, for god’s sake.” She circles her desk again. “You want to date the bad boy, is that it? Get him out of your system?”

She slams her hands down on the thick slab of wood. “He tried to ruin your grandfather.”

“I’m aware. Of Grandfather’s side of the story.”

Her eyes widen, and her jaw drops, ready to refute me.

“What would Gabriel say if I asked him?”