Anything He Wants 2: All's Fair (Dominated By The Billionaire) Read online

  Seduced then coerced into a job as “personal assistant”, Lucy Delacourt has all but signed her body over to CEO Jeremiah Hamilton, promising to do anything he wants. Now she's Paris-bound and determined to resist him and the diamond-studded world of the ultra-rich.

  Jeremiah isn't interested in forcing Lucy to obey a simple contract. He knows exactly what he wants: his new assistant's complete surrender. A man used to getting his own way, Jeremiah won't hesitate to do whatever it takes to sway his assistant and Lucy finds, to her horror, that the price she has to pay might be something she secretly craves.

  Anything He Wants 2: All’s Fair

  by Sara Fawkes

  Copyright 2012. All rights reserved.

  To Delta, thank you for helping me so much with the first draft. You made the story so much better.

  And to my family, who just found out about my stories: you can go ahead and skip the sexy parts!

  *

  1

  Limousines were roomier than I remembered. Of course, the last time I’d been inside one was high school prom, and it had been packed to the gills with friends and their dates.

  I snuck a glance at the handsome man near me in the back seat of the limo. He ignored me for the moment, focused on the tablet in his lap and leaving me to my own devices. My leather handbag sat in my lap, and I hugged it close, still reeling over the day’s events. Was I really on my way to Paris?

  The last two days had been crazy. Twice while at work I’d been seduced by the gorgeous stranger I saw every morning: first in the public elevator, then later in the parking garage. My out-of-character and shameless behavior had me confused about my sanity, but I’d been given the shock of my life only an hour earlier when I found out the same dark stranger was a billionaire.

  Worse yet, he was my boss.

  Jeremiah Hamilton, CEO of Hamilton Industries, a multinational business conglomerate to rival anything Trump ever produced, sat across from me in the dark limo. I hadn’t recognized him, never even realized who he was, when I rode that elevator. That thought was embarrassing. Although he didn’t have a television show or his name slapped on magazine covers that I’d actually read, I still should have known what the CEO of the company I worked for looked like. Now it seemed I was heading to the airport to fly with him to Paris. As his personal assistant. With a forthcoming contract whose stipulations revolved around the phrase “anything he wants”.

  As far as ranking in the Worst Days Ever, this was in the top five. Definitely a tie for first on Most Mindboggling Day Ever.

  Manhattan rush hour traffic being the normal tangle of pedestrians and vehicles, I didn’t pay much attention to our route, caught up in my thoughts. Too soon however, I noticed a traffic decrease and the car passing planes behind a tall fence. Looking out the window, I saw with some surprise the sign for Teterboro Airport. The New Jersey airport was smaller than its New York City counterpart, and while I’d never flown through there I knew it served private flights for the wealthy and affluent.

  Well, I suppose today that’s us. The thought sent a wave of chills up my spine, and I shivered, rubbing my arms. Oh God, what was I getting myself into?

  “You’re sure I won’t need clothes?” I asked for the third time as we pulled into the terminal. I hadn’t been allowed to bring anything with me aside from personal effects already in the office – namely, what was in my purse – and had nothing but the day’s work clothes I was still wearing. The skirt and blouse were clean, but hardly enough for any kind of overseas trip.

  “They’ll be provided for you,” Jeremiah assured me. “Your contract goes over all of this.”

  It was the same answer I got anytime I asked him a question about this surprise trip. At this rate, my contract will be longer than Tolstoy. The flippant thought did nothing to settle my nerves. I haven’t signed anything yet. I can still leave, find another job.

  The sudden image of me flipping burgers for a living made me shudder, and a wave of sorrow washed over me. Is that where I’ll end up? Could this really be my last chance? I looked up to see Jeremiah watching me. It was like he could read my mind but there was no emotion on his stoic face. Frustrated, unwilling to let him see my indecision, I clenched my jaw and refused to look away first.

  The door opened, breaking our staring contest. I grabbed my bag, and climbed out past him, but thought I saw humor on his face as I passed. So he likes conflict, I thought as we were hustled into the building. Good, because I’m not going to crawl and beg for respect.

  An image popped into my head of me on my knees in front of him, looking up into that gorgeous face, and I felt a flutter in my belly. Aw, dammit.

  The speed with which we passed through security was a novel experience. The most grueling part of the process was security poking through my purse and finding the underwear from yesterday I’d forgotten were still there. My whole body heated at that discovery but they remained professional. Once security cleared us we moved through the small waiting area and were taxied across the tarmac to our waiting flight.

  Long and sleek, yet a great deal smaller than I’d flown in before, the airplane wasn’t anything like any commercial jets I’d ever flown in. There was no way I’d ever travel in something like this; normal girls like me never so much saw the inside of one of these unless they were flight attendants or pilots. The posh interior blew me away, with leather seats twice as wide as anything I’d seen in an airplane. The pilot allowed us to take our seats before closing the door and retreating into the cockpit. Impressed by my surroundings, I started playing with the various gadgets and implements attached to my seat. It even had its own private phone under one thick arm rest, which I found amusing.

  A thin tablet slid onto the table I’d unfolded, the same one I’d seen Jeremiah working with earlier. Startled, I glanced over to see Jeremiah seated in a nearby chair. “What’s this?” I managed, my earlier amusement dimming.

  “I drew up your contract on our way here.” When I hesitated, he leaned in to catch my gaze. “You knew this was coming.”

  “No joke.” The sarcastic reply belied my nervous tension. Am I signing my life away?

  “A car will take you home if you wish to leave.” He pulled a silver stylus from his jacket pocket and held it out to me. “The choice is yours.”

  I snatched the stylus from his fingers, clenching it in my fist so I wouldn’t betray my shaking. Sitting back in the seat, I picked up the tablet and read the whole agreement. The non-disclosure portion was a reality check, and made my lips twist cynically. Of course he wouldn’t want me blabbing to the world. Everything I’d need would be provided but I would have to forfeit all items given me by the company if I broke the terms of the contract. Blah blah blah.

  I’d grown adept at deciphering legalese during college, but he had written a fairly straightforward contract. Close to the end however, I did trip over one stipulation we hadn’t discussed. “Fifty thousand dollars?” I squeaked, looking up in surprise.

  He nodded. “If you are still in my employ in six months, you’re entitled to a bonus,” he said, quoting the contract almost verbatim. “It, along with any weekly paychecks, won’t be taken from you should you terminate the contract.”

  So, even if I quit I’ll still get something out of this. Seeing it in writing helped my mind come to terms with this absurd choice. The contract, while vague on my specific duties, gave a professional vibe to the whole situation and made me feel, well, less slutty. Who knows, maybe this is a standard contract with the rich and famous. I’d hardly know otherwise.

  Yet I hesitated. I can still leave, I though
t, staring at the stylus in my hand. I can end this silly charade, take a taxi back to my apartment...

  ...and then what?

  Rent was coming due, and my roommate, an old college friend who’d given me a chance when I had no options, wouldn’t be able to cover it all herself. Unemployment monies took too long; the idea of finding another job was daunting, and there was a good chance I’d find nothing. The thought of living in a shelter made my blood run cold, and helplessness of my situation threatened to overwhelm me.

  Jeremiah’s face held no pity as he regarded me patiently. He’d made it abundantly clear what this contract entailed – my “interview” had been me splayed across his desk as he took liberties with my body that left me a moaning, panting mess. The memory made me want to cringe and hide; I’d never been that kind of girl, and yet a stranger had seduced me not once but three times in a twenty-four hour span.

  I have no other choice.

  I read through the contract twice, the enormity of my path weighing on me, then with shaky fingers I signed my name across the bottom and handed back the tablet. Jeremiah reached up and pressed the attendant button. Immediately the engines began gearing up, and I made sure I was buckled in. I gripped the chair tight, and tried to ignore my own unease about the flight and the man seated across from me.

  “You don’t like flying?”

  I kept my eyes closed and feigned sleep as the engines geared up and propelled us down the runway. The process was smooth, and not as loud as I’d imagined for such a small plane, but I didn’t breathe easy until we were in the air.

  We were still climbing when Jeremiah took off his belt and stood, heading to the main area behind me. I kept my eyes straight ahead, determined to ignore his presence, until a hand carrying a glass of clear liquid appeared before me. “I don’t drink,” I said.

  “Not even water?”

  I didn’t find his amusement charming, but took the drink from his hand with a mumbled, “Thank you.”

  “There’s food in the bar if you need something more substantial.”

  “I’m not hungry, thank you.”

  My stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, exposing my outright lie. “Okay, fine, maybe a little.”

  His lips compressed, and I had the feeling he was trying to keep from smiling. “You really had no idea who I was, did you?”

  Suddenly not in the mood for conversation, I huffed out a breath and shrugged. “Apparently, you’re not as popular as you seem to think.”

  He took my sarcastic words in good humor. “And how popular am I?”

  Squirming in my chair, I looked up to see amusement crinkling the edges of his eyes. He seems so hard until you look at his eyes. They were the most beautiful green I could remember seeing on a man, vibrant against the olive complexion and dark hair. Realizing I was staring, I cleared my throat and struggled for an answer to his question. Witty rebuttals escaped me however, and I shrugged, taking a quick sip of my water.

  I ignored his chuckling. “You may want to rest,” he said, “this is going to be a long flight.”

  As he went to the rear of the airplane I stayed in my seat, leaning it back and snuggling into the large chair. Unfortunately, my stomach, now aware of food nearby, wouldn’t let me rest. I managed to stall maybe half an hour, busying myself with the various gadgets around me, before finally getting up and heading back to see what was available.

  When I passed my boss, he was sitting in one of the wide chairs, a glass of some dark liquid in his hand. I could feel his eyes on me as I went into the kitchen alcove and poured myself some orange juice before peeking at the selection of food. I snagged a pre-made chicken sandwich with ingredients that made it sound like fine dining, and ate in the small room.

  The man made me nervous; I couldn’t trust myself around him. Whenever he was nearby I kept imagining erotic scenes I only read in romance novels and saw in my fantasies. That had been fine when he was a stranger on an elevator I saw once a day. Now I needed to get him out of my head, but easier said than done: he had become a prominent fixture in my fantasy life, and my body wouldn’t allow me to forget him. Even the hopelessness of my current situation couldn’t stop my reaction to his presence, the same reactions that had gotten me into this mess in the first place.

  Grabbing a bottle of water, I turned to leave the little kitchen area and ground to a halt when I saw him standing beside the opening. He moved toward me, and I backed up a step, only to bump into the countertop. “I, um,” I stammered, “I should get back to my seat...”

  His fingers toyed wit h a button on his shirt. “Could you help me with this?” he asked, indicating his shirt and ignoring my statement. “It seems to be stuck.”

  I blew out a disbelieving breath. Seriously? His words came across as a lame line, almost absurd given the situation, but another line I'd heard earlier that afternoon popped into my head. Anything I want.

  I snorted. So now I'm dressing him too? This wasn’t what I thought I’d signed up for, but with a small huff I reached out and took the button. His fingers brushed mine, and I tried to ignore them along with the tightening in my belly.

  Surprisingly, the button really was caught, but it took only a few seconds to untangle. I released his shirt when I finished, leaving the button open, but he captured my hands before I could step away. “Check the others, perhaps?”

  I glanced up into his eyes then quickly down again. This is stupid, I thought, trying for anger as my hands were pulled back to his shirt. I was supposed to be a lawyer, someone who stood up for the little guy; this isn’t what I took out massive college loans for, to be a glorified seamstress...

  Jeremiah stared down at me, and I tried hard to ignore his gaze – easier said than done. Giving him a brief glare that was mostly bravado on my part, I started unbuttoning his shirt. The material was thin but strong, not silk but something similarly expensive. I didn’t make it to the third button before my hands began to tremble, not from fear but from his proximity. It didn’t take me long to realize he wore nothing beneath the shirt but skin. The more buttons I released the more torso was revealed, dark skin against a white shirt that refused to stay closed on its own. He took a step closer, looming above me, and my whole body began to quake. Oh my God.

  My life up to that point hadn’t involved many men outside of family and a few study buddies. High school, then college, had been all about academics; books and studying had always interested me more than forming any relationships with the opposite sex – even if they had been interested. Life after my parents died had been a blur; there was never time to do more than work at various jobs and worry about my future. If anyone was interested, I certainly never noticed. But I definitely noticed the man in front of me now.

  Fighting the urge to touch the smooth skin beneath my fingers was a losing battle. He took a small step sideways, and I unconsciously moved too, turning slowly with him as he pulled the shirt off and threw it over the chair beside us. Breathless, my eyes roamed the body his shirt had previously covered, then the flutter in my belly became full-blown sparks when his fingers skimmed up my arms. I didn’t even realize we were moving, too caught up in his proximity and touch, until my back pushed up against something hard – a wall. My hands tightened against the firm muscles of his abdomen as I looked up to see him watching me with an intensity that left my knees weak. Any thought of resistance as he pressed his body against mine and lowered his head to take my lips.

  What started out soft, barely a brush of our mouths, morphed quickly into something much more passionate. Helpless against his assault, I moaned into his mouth and skimmed my fingernails down his taut body, responding to his kiss with a fire I didn’t know I had. My touch served only to enflame him as he pressed closer, his tongue coming out to briefly flick my lip and tease my mouth open. His large hands roamed down my body, settling on my waist, with his fingers digging into my hips and backside, pulling me closer against his wide frame.

  My hands came up around his neck, tangling in
thick dark hair, as desperate for his touch as he seemed to be for mine. One leg wedged itself firmly between my legs, and I gasped as it pressed against parts of my body that were swollen and begging for more. The hands clutching my hips tightened and I was suddenly lifted, pressed against the wall supported only by his body and grip. My legs wrapped around his waist as his lips left mine, teeth skimming down along the soft skin of my throat as he thrust his hips against me. A small cry burst from my throat, then again as his teeth latched on loosely to my shoulder through my blouse and he rolled his hips again.

  My hands fumbled for his face and, bringing it back up, I kissed him again, making panting moans into his mouth as he continued to rub himself against me. My skirt was almost up to my waist, and his fingers crept toward the apex of my legs, pressing against the thin barrier of my panties toward my aching core. I moaned into his mouth, nipping his lip and arching my hips down against his hand, desperate for more.

  “Perhaps you can help with my pants button, too?”