Page 10 of The Billionaire's Buy-In

I roll my eyes. That’s all I need, those two getting together so they can solve all my problems.

“Maybeyoucan help me, my friend,” Ash asks with his hand on Ryker’s shoulder, going serious. “I’m solving a mystery this weekend, Ryker. I’m thinking if anyone would know the deep, dark secrets of Chord’s Crossing, you would. By chance, have you noticed anything odd about our buddy Chord lately?” Ash asks, fishing for something other than redfish. “I mean, not the normal mafia kingpin shit, but has he got some super secret lady he’s keeping from us?”

He’s persistent and won’t give until he figures out why I bailed on him this weekend. He can’t know about my weekend with Abbie because Ash finding out would inevitably lead to Grace and Ty finding out. They’d feed my balls to the gators if they knew about our bet.

“I figure there has to be something odd going on for him to turn down a weekend on the boat. And apparently, it’s not work-related. So … any ideas?”

“Nope,” Ryker backs out of the room, shaking his head, “not a clue.” He won’t share my secrets. He’s too loyal. Ash has hit a dead end there.

“Lies.” Ash says, tsking his tongue in disappointment. “Guess I’m off to seduce your cocktail waitresses and bribe your pit bosses. They always have the tea.” With that, he turns and follows Ryker out.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. Relieved, he knows nothing more than he did before. It needs to stay that way. Abbie’s going to be my little secret this weekend, but with Ash on the case, hiding her will prove almost impossible.

I pour a glass of bourbon to take the edge off. Keeping secrets from my friends isn’t something I normally do, other than the obvious ones associated with my business and family. Those secrets allow them plausible deniability in case shit goes left.

It’s the personal secrets I’m not telling them that bother me. Since college, we’ve always discussed issues about women, relationships, and our careers. Hell, we even made a pact that the three of us wouldn’t marry until we’d made our first billion. We felt we needed to keep our eyes on the prize and focus on becoming successful.

Goal achieved. Now, Ty has found his soulmate, and I’m ready to share my ill-gotten gains and hard-earned cash with someone as well. The moment I saw Abbie, I knew she’d be the one.

Selling her on the idea is the next step. I just hope like hell she doesn’t find out I stacked the odds in my favor on our bet.

Chapter 8

Abbie

Thenerveofthatfucker.

He wants to dress me up like his personal plaything?

When Ryker showed me into the penthouse apartment (a freaking penthouse!), I was already upset about having to be Chord’s “yes” girl for the weekend. Apparently, he doesn’t even want me to have my own room. He’s telling me without telling me he plans on having sex with me by making me share his bedroom. I’m sure it didn’t help that I let him give me an orgasm the other day. Guess he thinks I’m a sure thing.

Whatwillhe expect from me? Someone Chord’s age must have a lot of experience. He’s known as a confirmed bachelor, even famous for his bachelor status. New Orleans’ gossip rags have listed him as one of the top catches in the city. Likely, because he’s so elusive, rarely being photographed or seen with the same woman more than once. Women always want what they can’t have, and he’s made it obvious he isn’t being caught. Meaning, he’s played the field and most likely has a shit-ton of sexual experience under his belt.

So why is he messing with me?

The women I’ve seen on his arm look worldly. They look like they can handle a man like Chord, with his intensity, his sinful smirk, and seductive gaze. He always looks at me as if he’s contemplating all the ways he could make me drop my panties and come like a fire hydrant.

No way am I going to survive the entire weekend in such close proximity and resist him, especially already having had a taste of what he has to offer. The man knows what he’s doing. If I had to choose someone to take my carefully guarded v-card, I could do worse than Chord. Truth be told, I doubt I could find anyonebetter. He’s the most sexual man I have ever been around.

But he can’t know how much he affects me. Giving Chord that type of powerful knowledge would expose a vulnerability I know he’d exploit, which would allow him to break my heart. I can’t let that happen.

Gazing out the large picture windows with the fantastic view of the French Quarter, I hear the penthouse door open. I know it’s him because I can smell his scent in the air before I see him. His smell is an intoxicating, sophisticated mixture of leather and sandalwood with a touch of tobacco, as if he occasionally smokes a cigar. He oozes masculinity, all man. And I want this man to be all mine, but I know it can’t ever happen. He thinks I’m some naïve college co-ed he can seduce, hit it, and quit it. Good girls like me don’t get to end up with bad boys like Chord Gallo.

Resist him, I tell myself as I’m inhaling his powerful smell, getting drunk off the pheromones he’s putting off.

So much easier said than done.

Without turning around, I cross my arms and voice my thoughts out loud. “I will not be your weekend plaything, Chord. I never agreed to dressing as your ‘toy’ and sleeping in your room.”

Wow, look at me, setting boundaries and shit.

Holding my breath, I’m waiting for his reaction. That’s when I realize I enjoy pushing his buttons. Pissing Chord off and shaking his usual calm, controlling demeanor is fun to me. He doesn’t cave at my first biting remark, like most guys I know. He’s mature, dangerous, like a powder keg. You never know when it’ll ignite and blow. I know I wouldloveto see him blow though. The thought of making Chord come apart at the seams is so damn hot.

“Doing my bidding is very much part of our deal, firecracker,” he reminds me as he approaches and wraps both hands around my hips, pulling me into his arousal. God, he feels massive. Because of our drastic height difference, his hard, thick length presses into my back. Instinctively, I press into him. His cock feels enormous, and I desperately want to feel it deep inside me, filling the ache building in my core.

Fuckballs.I’m a sick puppy. I’mcravinghis touch. If someone had asked a week ago, if I would be attracted to someone as dangerous as Chord Gallo, someone with his background, even his age, I would’ve vehemently denied it, more like laughed in their face. Yet, here I am. Waiting to see if I can trigger a response from him. Will he kiss me? Will he stroke my breasts or kiss my aching pussy again? My cheeks flame at the memory of him dominating me on the table in his basement. He made my body implode, giving me the most amazing orgasm I’ve ever had with just the touch of his hands and his talented tongue. More ofthatis exactly what I want. Right freaking now.

I’m a hussy.

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