• Home
  • Jo Henley
  • Billionaire Expectations (One Temptations, No Rules)

Billionaire Expectations (One Temptations, No Rules) Read online




  ONE TEMPTATION, NO RULES

  BILLIONAIRE EXPECTATIONS

  By Jo Henley

  www.AuthorJoHenley.com

  www.facebook.com/AuthorJoHenley

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  BILLIONAIRE EXPECTATIONS (ONE TEMPTATION, NO RULES)

  First Edition, Amazon Edition.

  © 2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  [email protected]

  Get updates on new releases and other news right in your inbox!

  Join Jo Henley’s Email List at:

  www.AuthorJoHenley.com

  Or click this link HERE to receive your free ebook!

  Your contact information will not be shared with anyone.

  Written by Jo Henley

  One Temptation, No Rules

  BILLIONAIRE EXPECTATIONS

  By Jo Henley

  Chapter One

  Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any crazier I made one wrong step off the curb and a right step into an affair with a billionaire that I'll never forget.

  My girlfriend Kayla and I were out on a Friday night wasting time. All the good clubbing spots were full with lines out the door to get in. We tried flirting our way to the front, but every where we went there were groups of bitches guarding the doormen.

  Kayla and I aren’t exactly bitch material. We both packed on our freshmen fifteen and added a few more over the summer. We pushed our best assets forward, but our huge natural breasts still couldn’t compete with the purchased tits of our competition.

  “Melina! Kayla!” Jack screamed, leaving the Lizard Lounge. “You ladies coming or going?”

  “Going.” I gestured over my shoulder to the sea of fake blondes. “Too crowded.”

  “I just got a text.” Jack said with his phone in hand. “I’m popping over to the subway station at tenth. There’s a sub party happening on the next train.”

  “Thanks, Jack. We’ll follow you,” I said.

  This fad was new in our city. Young adults crammed onto a subway car and jammed out to cranked up music along the ride. Usually the parties were packed, so Kayla and I had stayed away.

  “I have a good feeling about tonight. Let’s go,” Kayla said.

  “Guess it can’t hurt. Tenth is only a few blocks away.” We walked along the cobblestone sidewalk at a steady pace in our heels. As we got closer, the crowd got denser. Sure enough as we turned the corner to descend down the subway steps it was clear we’d never make it on before the doors closed.

  “Just as I thought.” I fanned my arms in the air. “Now what? Raisin toast at the Waffle House?”

  “We'll find something to do.”

  Distracted and disappointed, I stormed off, swimming upstream through the young hopefuls. “Screw it!” Changing course, I turned off down a side street and wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going. Then I tripped over a deep crack in the sidewalk. Twisting my ankle out of my high heel, I fell down, landing in the street. “Fuck!”

  “Melina!” Kayla tried to catch me before my fall, but I’d already hit the ground. “What a night.” She sat down, pulling me up on the curb next to her.

  “Let’s never listen to Jack again,” I sulked with my elbows on my knees.

  “Excuse me ladies,” a man in a white jacket said from a doorway across the narrow street. “You look a tad peckish. Come see me.” He waved us over in a creepy, but sort of well to do manner. If that was possible.

  Kayla and I conveyed mutual confusion through one hesitated glance. “Waffle house or this guy?” I mouthed to her.

  “I assure you our offerings are better than the waffle house,” the man said, stepping backward, pushing open the door behind him.

  “Is that a restaurant over there?” I asked Kayla.

  “I think so. He’s the funny doorman.”

  “The maitre’d,” I corrected. Brushing ourselves off, Kayla and I walked across the street to the stranger. The windows of the restaurant were covered by black interior curtains. Painted in gold on the front window was “Bannister House. Reservations by invitation only.”

  “Perhaps you'd like to check out our menu.” The man gestured for us to enter the dark entryway.

  “It says reservations only.” I strained my neck to look inside. All I could see was a heavily stained staircase leading up into darkness.

  “I assure you we cater to all kinds of clientele.” He examined us from head to toe. “There are men to converse with inside. And you can get something to eat. Come on, see for yourself.”

  “Give us a minute dude,” Kayla said, dragging me back into the street. “Sure we can get a free meal, but what will they want in return? I'm not willing to give it up for a sandwich.”

  “Uh hmm.” The man cleared his throat, interrupting. “No one will pressure you at Bannister House.”

  “Seriously? What's the catch?”

  “Please.” He pulled a corded rope and a secret panel in the wall slid open. A blast of cool air and the smell of a fine cooked meal wafted out. “Trust and enjoy your evening.”

  “One drink can't hurt.”

  The facade of darkness from the street was unmasked by the warm glow of tiffany style table lamps. Well dressed men relaxed in plush leather chairs near a lit fireplace. In the back of the room, a family style buffet of food was spread on a table. Many patrons ate, sitting in cushioned sears, while others stood in small clusters with their drinks.

  The opening behind us closed, leaving a paneled wall in it’s place. There was no foreseeable way out of the room. I took a deep breath and looped my arm around Kayla’s. “Let’s get that drink.”

  “There’s no bar. No bartenders. No waiters,” Kayla said, keeping close.

  “So, there’s bottles of wine on the table,” I said through my teeth, keeping a smile on my face. We weaved forward, nodding appropriately to the men eyeing us from across the room.

  “Welcome,” an older gentleman in a pinstripe dress shirt, pulled a chair out at the table. “Have a seat.”

  “No thank you. I’d like a glass of wine though.” I barely finished the sentence when another man of about the same age fitted a glass in my hand.

  “I’m Arnold. This is Edmund.” The man pointed to himself and his friend. “We’re regulars at Bannister House. Haven’t seen you here before.”

  “That’s cause we haven’t been here,” Kayla snapped.

  Edmund placed a glass of wine in her hand and grinned. “You’re spicy.”

  “Right. Is this some kind of club?” I asked Arnold who was examining me intently. Edmund on the other hand seemed preoccupied with Kayla. Had we just coupled up with these old geezers?

  “It’s Bannister House. One of Christopher’s many whims. I don’t know where he is tonight? Sheila have you seen Christopher?” Arnold asked a woman sitting across the table.

  “Not this evening.” The woman named Sheila rose and joined us. “You two need to fix your face. Come along.” She positioned herself between the two of us, looped her arms in ours and directed us down a small hallway. “Arnold and Edmund are not your best bets here.”

  “Where are we? The guy at the door just let us in,” I said, following Sheila through a doorway. The room was furnished brighter with chintz chairs, dressing tables and mirrors. Clusters of all types and shades of cosmetics were displayed on the doily covered tables.

  Sheila sat and opened a compact of powder. “It’s sort of a wealthy m
an’s club. Christopher Bannister hosts networking parties for those who have the right amount of money and want to mingle with each other.”

  “Are those millionaires out there? Are they married?” Kayla asked, unwrapping a new shade of lipstick and redoing her lips.

  “Most are, with mistresses. So you’ll likely only get a one night stand with a shiny bauble on your pillow in the morning. But you two don’t look like the dance for a trinket type.”

  “Thank you. We’re not,” I said.

  “How big of a trinket?” Kayla flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Just kidding.”

  “We really shouldn’t be here. Maybe we should just leave.”

  “Yes. This crowd is not in your favor tonight. But—” Sheila opened her handbag and pulled out her phone. “Let me text you the details of next week’s party. Christopher and a younger crowd will be there. You might get lucky.”

  “Fair enough.” We exchanged numbers. Why not? I didn’t think I’d here from her again. It was just a way to get out of a situation we clearly didn’t belong in.

  Chapter Two

  Sheila did text. The next day she sent a gushing long one about what a joy it was to meet us. Said she couldn’t wait to get together at another one of Christopher’s events.

  She kept in touch all week and her text with details and an invitation to the Bannister networking party came in on Thursday. That left Kayla and I with less than forty-eight hours to prepare for a night immersed amongst the wealthy. I wasn’t exactly stressing out about it. I’d been to plenty of country club parties and they usually ended with me leaving in tears.

  I’d found in my city, the wealthier a person was the more judgmental they were. My body type wasn’t usually on their list of acceptable traits. Usually I didn’t care what anyone thought of my looks or size, but this was a millionaire’s club. Those men could buy skinny women all day long. I’d have to work extra hard to impress them. The question I asked myself was, did I want to?

  I was drying off after a shower when I heard Kayla’s voice cackling out in my bedroom, she’d let herself into my apartment again. “What are you doing?” I asked, watching my clothes fly out of my closet.

  “Finding you an outfit,” Kayla answered, stopping and holding up a green halter dress. “This is cute.”

  “I’m wearing my trusty black dress.”

  “Seriously. You wear that everywhere.”

  I scooted past her, grabbed some clothes and returned to the bathroom to dress. Leaving the door open a crack I asked, “What are you wearing?”

  “Nothing—get out Melina!”

  Kayla’s outburst caught me off guard. I ran out of the bathroom quickly scrambling to pull my top down over my braless chest. “What?”

  “Why do you still have this?” She held up a sweatshirt with a worn down chicken mascot on the front.

  “Give that back.” I snatched at the old shirt. The item had memories. I’d taken it from the closet of an old boyfriend who used to work at Bev’s Diner. “Hand it over,” I snarled at her.

  “Geez,” she tossed the memento at me. “Why would you keep it after you broke up?”

  “He wasn’t all bad.”

  “No. He wanted to have a threesome with us. That’s a little weird. Don’t you think?”

  “With you maybe.” I stuck my tongue out at Kayla. Truthfully the most sexually daring thing I’d ever done was with that guy. One time we flirted in the kitchen of the diner right before they opened. He stripped off my panties and put them in his pocket. Then had me sit at the counter and order a piece a pie without them on. Not long after that he started testing my boundaries, asking me to do more crazy shit. When I refused, he approached Kayla with the threesome idea. She broke up with him for me.

  “I’m going to go to the mall and buy a new outfit. Wanna come?”

  “Not for one party. We don’t even know if Sheila’s telling the truth.” I pulled the sweatshirt over my head and sniffed the collar. It still smelled like him.

  “Of course she is. I looked him up.” Kayla hopped on the bed. Pulling up her browser history. She showed me the website for Bannister Inc. It was a multi-billion dollar company with one investor, Christopher Bannister.

  “Okay, but you know me. If I meet a man, he’d better like me for me. So I’m wearing my trusty black dress.”

  “Be that way. I’m going to spend all my rent money and snag a millionaire.”

  And she did. The following night I picked Kayla up and she looked one-hundred percent like a gold digger. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Love me,” she giggled, buckling up in the passenger seat.

  I followed the directions to a three story building in an older shopping district near the river walk. The parking attendant at the closest lot huffed when I asked for the change instead of handing it straight over to him for a tip. We had to be near the millionaires.

  We walked three blocks in heels before we found the place. A neon sign reflected “Vintage Necessities” off the ground floor glass windows of the three story antique shop.

  “Are you sure this is the place?” Kayla asked.

  “It's the address.” I pressed my face against the window and stared into the dark museum like store. The inside was crammed full of period furniture, with tea sets and knicks knacks crammed all over everything. The walls were covered with interesting paintings in orate frames. Some more unusual pieces dangled directly from the ceiling, like a vintage Schwinn bicycle, and a chandelier made of antlers. With no sign of a cash register or price tags, the place appeared to be more of a showroom to the odd pieces than a retail shop.

  This place is too strange. What have we gotten into? “Check the door.”

  Kayla tugged on the handle. “It's open.”

  We cautiously walked into the small tiled entrance. On the left, a second set of doors led into the antique store. On the right, a closed coffee shop. And in front of us a long well lit hallway.

  “You ladies here for the mixer?” a man asked, stepping into the lobby behind us. We spread apart and sized up the stranger.

  “Where is everyone?” Kayla asked, stroking her fingernails up his crisp navy blue sleeve.

  “Upstairs.” He offered both arms out for us to take. “Let me escort you to the elevator.”

  When the doors opened on the third floor, we exited into an expansive room with floor to ceiling windows. The view of the city was extraordinary for a building so small. It was in the perfect location to showcase the lights of downtown and the surrounding river district nearby.

  “Would you ladies like a glass of wine?”

  “I’d love one,” Kayla said, keeping her grip on the handsome stranger.

  “No thank you. I’m going to mingle around.” I slipped away, but nodded back to Kayla. “You okay with him?”

  “Fine. We’ll meet up later.”

  After refusing the drink, the first thing I did was accept a glass off of the tray of a passing waiter. I didn’t see any sense to not have one in my hand as I walked around.

  The furnishings at this party was polar opposite of the boys club furniture at Bannister House where we’d met Sheila. There were no comfy leather chairs to relax in here. Standing was required at this shin ding. Clear, chest high tables were sparsely spread around the room to catch stray wine glasses, other than that, the room was open for the crowd to mingle around.

  I looked for, but didn’t see Sheila. So without my sidekick or any real networking skills I slipped to the edge of the room and people watched. It was entertaining to say the least. The men appeared to all be well bred, but they could’ve been wanna be’s. I couldn’t tell. The women, they were more obvious. All were after the same thing Kayla was. A man to pay for their outfits.

  And then I found him. The one man who controlled the room.

  Chapter Three

  Anyone but me. I thought when our eyes met across the room. In a party of reserved millionaires this man stood out like a sore thumb. The crowd pulsed with
his every move. He danced around shaking hands with everyone like a shady car salesman. Did he not see what he looked like?

  I tended to avoid people like him. I’d never trusted the intentions of anyone who spoke loud and drew attention to their every word. Millionaire of not, I wasn’t impressed and I definitely wasn’t shaking his hand.

  To avoid that unwanted situation, I sashayed over to the perimeter of the open space. Negating all possibility of eye contact, I stared out the windows to the city view stretching out below.

  “Stunning isn't it?” a strong voice asked behind me.

  Tilting my head, I saw the speaker’s reflection in the glass. It was him. The man I didn't want to talk to tonight. Seems the night’s taken a turn.

  “Amazing difference. Like night and day,” I said, dryly looking over my shoulder to him.

  “I’m Christopher. Christopher Bannister,” he said, offering his hand.

  Holy shit! He’s the billionaire? “Melina.” I grinned and took his firm handshake.

  He added his other hand to my elbow. His grip eased and I had a chance to really soak him in. Take away the outward “look at me” attitude, ignore his billions of dollars, and he held on to some pretty decent qualities. Quaffed hair, distinguished eyes, a smart sexy fashion sense. Maybe I could give him a chance on those things alone.

  “This is your first Bannister affair. Isn’t it?”

  “What tipped you off?” I smirked. He’s better looking with his mouth shut. I took back my arm and pushed my hair behind my ear. “Is it that I'm staring out the window or that I'm not flittering about like the other gold diggers?”

  “Actually, you’re so beautiful that if I’d seen you before I'd have remember.”

  That's a line if I ever heard one. But I did expect it from the moment I saw him. Billionaire aside this man had an obvious desire to dominate every person in a room. Since he’d never met me before, I guess I was a challenge. Something I usually wasn’t willing to be. Plus I’d never found alpha males attractive. I've got to get rid of him.