Free The Final Seduction (The Billionaire's Way) Book 3 by C.T. Sloan Page A

other end of the line. When my boss hangs up, he turns on the TV. I sit up and see the CNN cameras pointing at a dock in the Cayman Islands.
     
    The words on the screen tell the story: “Son of Dictator found dead in Cayman Islands.” I sit up in bed as they show the local police searching for evidence inside of a harbor.
     
    “What happened, Sir?”
     
    “The wolves happened to him,” Mr. Peak says.
     
    I kiss my boss and we embrace. The big guy embraces me and whispers into my ear, “Pack your bags. We need to go back to LA right away.”
     
    I look at my boss and ask, “Why?”
    “I’m not telling you. Just pack up,” he orders.
     
    That sure is strange. I don’t say anything. I just do as my boss orders. For the rest of the morning, Mr. Peak doesn’t say much. Even when I ask inane questions about having breakfast, he seems somewhat silent and - dare I say - nervous.
     
    I pack up my personal belongings. Mr. Peak takes a bag with him. The staff packs up several other cases of clothing and general items that will come with us on the plane. We get into a Rolls Royce Phantom and speed out of the city, towards Teterboro airport.
     
    “Sir, is everything okay?”
     
    He looks at me up and down. “Yes, everything is very much fine.”
     
    “Then why do we have to leave so quickly?”
     
    “Because I can’t waste another minute. There is a place I need to take you.”
    Okay, well this is mysterious and exciting. It’s also a little scary. What the hell does Mr. Peak have planned for me now?
    We get to the airport where our luggage is promptly stowed aboard the Gulfstream. As we enter the aircraft, Mr. Peak does something really strange, he allows me to get on the plane first. Wow. The big alpha bully is suddenly turning into a gentleman! Perhaps I have executed my duties so well, he is beginning to soften up on me.
     
    The jet takes off. Mr. Peak checks his messages and makes a few phone calls to the LA office. “I’m going to be in town in a few hours,” Mr. Peak says. He listens on the other side of the phone for a while. Then he says, “I won’t be in the office. If anything is pressing, have the managing director take care of it. I don’t want to know what is going on unless the office is on fire.”
     
    Alright, so we are going back to LA but Mr. Peak is not going back into the office. As we reach cruising altitude, I get out of my chair and crawl into Mr. Peak’s arms. He runs his fingers through my hair and looks out of the window. He seems to be in deep thought about something.
     
    Mr. Peak’s big, hard body is so soothing that I fall asleep in his arms. His biceps make nice pillows!
     
    ***
     
    “Wake up. We’re in LA,” Mr. Peak says as the wheels hit the ground at the Santa Monica Municipal airport. I am completely refreshed. I am so energized. Mr. Peak is alert though it does not seem like he spent any of his time sleeping. The man looks like he spent the entire flight deep in contemplation.
     
    When we emerge from the Gulfstream, Mr. Peak orders our belongings be sent, “to the house.” Then my boss asks for the keys to his “old car.” A man runs off into a hangar and emerges with a twenty-five year old Mustang convertible. While the car is old, it looks like it has been maintained in top condition.
     
    Mr. Peak opens the door for me and tells me to, “Get in.”
     
    I smile, somewhat amused by this twist and turn. “So what is this, Mr. Peak, your high school car?” I joke.
     
    “Yeah. It is,” my boss repsonds.
     
    We speed out of the airport and head towards the water. The cool Santa Monica air rushes across my face as we travel towards the Santa Monica Pier. Mr. Peak parks the car about two blocks away.
     
    We get out of the car. Mr. Peak leads me to the Pier. Oh well, this looks like fun. Perhaps after two weeks of intense wheeling and dealing and deception, my boss just wants to take a day off. He wants to show off the fun side of his personality. I