Free Romance: The Billionaires Collection (Watched By A Billionaire, Stranded With A Billionaire, Caught By A Billionaire, Billionaire Stepbrother) by Lexi Duval Page B

world
of fashion design my storm.
    But I can't.
    Because Gray won't let me, always in my head, holding
dominion over me to the point where I have no control.
    So when he calls, and my body reacts the way it does, I
realize that I'm in trouble. But I don't care. All I care about is
seeing him again, experiencing his presence, the aura that seems to
accompany him.
    That night, I see him, and he takes me away once more to
a world I've never experienced. This time it's the opera, a private
booth at the Lincoln Center. He wines and dines me, shows me more of
the world he inhabits, and leaves me desperate for more when we done.
    But not before he's bedded me once more. Taken me to a
luxury hotel suite and fucked me from one end of the penthouse to the
other. On the bed, in the living room, up against the bookcase, the
glass walls looking out over the city.
    We stay the night together, and I wake up next to him
for the first time, my head against his chest, his arm around me. I
watch him sleep for a while, watch his chest rise and fall, and see
him as innocently as a baby, his face so relaxed and beatific in
sleep.
    When he wakes, his eyes smile at me, sparkling under the
morning sun, and we make love once more. We roll about in the sheets,
laugh as we play with each other, and I feel like a girl who's
inevitably falling in love.
    And then I'm cast aside once more, and don't hear from
him again for two weeks this time.
    I return to my studio, to my apartment that now seems so
cold and hollow and lonely, and try to focus on my work. But I can't.
Everything is blurred outside of him. In the recesses of my mind,
he's the only thing that shines up bright, the only thing I can see
clearly.
    When I check my bank account, however, I see that it's
grown significantly. My initial thought – not being particularly
financially savvy – is that I've made money in interest.
    And then I check my transactions, and see that
additional sums of money have been deposited each day after seeing
Gray. I look back to the day after the experience on Liberty Island,
and notice an influx of thirty thousand dollars. Then I check the
date after our night at the opera and in the hotel suite, and see
another deposit of the same amount.
    He's been paying me for sex.
    The thought makes me feel strangely cheap, even worse
than before when I was performing in the show room. He had said I'd
have to earn it, that he'd pay me if it meant me stopping working for
Randall Taylor.
    But, since then, we'd never spoken about it, and I'd
assumed that such a thing was only words, never to be backed up with
actions.
    I was wrong.
    And now it's growing clear to me that I really am
nothing but a high priced whore to him. So here's me, falling for the
guy like a fool, and he's just using me as an escort, paying me for
sex.
    Does he even like me at all beyond my body? Does he
care about me at all?
    The thought consumes me, and my work suffers even more.
Soon, I find myself just sitting at home, waiting for him to call,
ignoring every other part of my life.
    I get calls from my mom regularly, checking how things
are going with the new fake job I told her about. My replies are
always grumpy and short, and that makes me feel even more guilty.
When she invites me to come and stay for the weekend, I tell her that
I can't and I'm busy.
    In reality, all I'm doing is sitting around and hoping
that Gray calls and takes me out again. I end up leaving every single
night open just in case he gets in touch, and my life starts to
suffer as a result.
    Eventually, two weeks after our night in the penthouse,
he calls me. My reaction, this time, is mixed, a feeling of euphoric
joy at hearing his voice, but this time mingled with a sense of anger
that he hasn't been in touch sooner.
    Of course, I don't say anything, because he's likely to
just toss me aside if I do. I just listen to what he's got to say,
and once more await the car that he sends out to pick me up.
    Yet, it feels different now.
    I'm