Bared by the Billionaire (2 page)

She was still trying to process what he meant when she heard a
crack,
followed milliseconds later by a blast of pain like nothing she’d ever felt before. Her eyes flew open and she gasped.

“But for now,” he was saying. “I’ll use this.” The long wooden paddle he’d chosen covered her entire backside with one stroke. “Yes, it’s old-fashioned, but still effective.”

She’d barely regained her breath when he delivered another harsh whack. The cruel slap of the paddle echoed in the silent room. She jerked upright as a bolt of fire seared her naked ass, but she was immediately shoved back down over the arm of the loveseat. How could she ever have thought she’d like getting spanked?

“I can see you weren’t taught very well by your former dom,” he remarked. “Moving out of position during a session means I start over and double whatever strokes you are to receive. But to be fair, you can’t be held responsible for his poor training. So this time, I’ll simply give you five extra whacks at the end, just so you remember that rule in the future.”

She couldn’t help letting out a cry of dismay. Her bottom was already burning after only two strokes of the paddle. She wasn’t sure she could endure five whacks in all, and he was telling her she’d get five more like this at the end?

All thought was driven out of her head when she heard another crack, followed by another lick of flame. She clenched her teeth together, determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out again, but hot tears welled up in her eyes. He struck her over and over, peppering her entire bottom as she struggled to stay in place. Before long, everything blurred together and she couldn’t even count the strokes. Her entire being focused on the intense pain and she had to force herself to breathe in between whacks.

When he finally stopped, silent tears were pouring down her face. With her hands cuffed behind her back, she couldn’t even wipe them away. She felt his hand between her thighs and froze.

“Spread your legs again.”

She was trying so hard to keep from sobbing out loud that his words barely registered. He whacked her again with the paddle and this time she did let out a wail.

“I said spread your legs. Now.”

Reluctantly, she moved her legs apart a little. His fingers dipped inside her, softly, and then moved to play with her clit. He kept up a steady rhythm, first teasing her pussy, then rubbing slow circles over her tiny nub. To her shock, her body began to respond. The pain dulled, turning into a spicy heat as the pleasure centers of her brain kicked in. He knelt behind her, spreading the cheeks of her ass apart, and she flushed with embarrassment when she felt his hot tongue licking up and down. But when it dipped into her pussy, she let out a tiny whimper, moving her hips back a little to take it in. His fingers kept up the sweet stroking on her clit until she felt it grow and harden. She moaned again, this time with raw desire. He ramped up the pressure and her body started quivering. She needed to come, right now, with a savage hunger more desperate than she’d ever felt before.

She opened her mouth to tell him but never got the words out. Suddenly she heard the unmistakable sound of Velcro ripping apart and her hands were free.

“Stay in this position until I leave the room. By the way, you are not allowed to touch yourself without my permission. Not now, or at any time while you are under my roof. If you do, you will be punished again—and it won’t end as pleasantly as it did this time. After I’m gone you can get back in your own clothes. Someone will be here shortly to bring you to my office where you’ll sign your contract… that is, if you still want to proceed with our agreement.”

She felt him move away, heard the door to the hallway close softly behind him. Kyra sank to her knees, shaking, and buried her face in her hands.

Chapter Two

Three days earlier

Sick with dread, Kyra stared at the papers in her hand. It was worse than she’d thought.

She sank into a chair on the balcony and stared, unseeing, at the Miami skyline. City lights beckoned with the promise of excitement, while the distant whisper of waves breaking on the sand added the lure of endless adventures waiting just beyond the shore. But she was oblivious to it all.

Warm and thick, the night air surrounded her like a soft blanket. Despite the heat, Kyra shivered. The hum of traffic, normally a white noise in the background, set her teeth on edge.

Think.
She had to think. There must be a way out. She was a planner, facing each day with at least a mental to-do list, if not a detailed written one. But on tomorrow’s list, she could only envision one entry. Go to jail.

Alejandro was gone. He’d fled to Colombia. It was to be a short vacation, an opportunity to visit his relatives back home. But as the phone calls started coming in, the accountants and attorneys of worried investors sniffing around, Kyra became suspicious. As the comptroller of International Technology Consultants, she was in charge of the corporation’s financial affairs. Theoretically. In reality, Alejandro always kept much of the decision-making close to his vest. He used his family’s huge stake in the corporation as a reason to closely oversee her management of the finances, often making decisions and taking action without telling her until later.

Now the charming son of a bitch had packed up and left. Since yesterday, his cell phone was no longer in service and the number she’d been given for emergency contact turned out to be bogus. She’d driven out to Fisher Island right after work tonight, used the pass code he’d given her to get inside the electronic gate to his waterfront mansion. All the rented furniture was still there, but his enormous wardrobe of clothes, his flashy jewelry, even his guitar collection was gone. And so was the money. This morning she’d discovered the company’s trust account was empty.

What was worse, Alejandro had used her password to make all the transfers. The poorly disguised paper trail she found today included a sizeable deposit to an offshore bank account under the maiden name of her dead mother. He did a great job of making it look as though she’d been in collusion with him all along and had been paid handsomely for her services. Any good forensic accountant would be able to follow the money as easily as she did and come to the conclusion that she was guilty of fraud and embezzlement to the tune of millions.

Back home, with his powerful family connections, Alejandro was safe. And Kyra was sure that by now the rest of the money had disappeared for good, routed through a dozen different countries into banks that had the reputation for welcoming hefty deposits from questionable sources, then misplacing all record of where they’d originated.

But she didn’t have the luxury of influential friends and family members who would grease the palms of government officials to make certain they looked elsewhere. Kyra feared that by tomorrow morning, or certainly within a few days at the most, the feds would be knocking on her door.

She felt sick to her stomach. It wasn’t just the money. Alejandro had wined and dined her, professed his love, taken her to his bed. Now that she knew what he’d been up to, she had to admit he hadn’t been all that great as a lover. Selfish, really. Almost detached. She kept telling herself it would get better between them, that lovemaking took practice, like anything else. But now she understood. He never cared about her at all. He was just using her. It was hard to believe she’d allowed herself to be duped for so long.

I was the perfect fall guy
. She tore the incriminating papers in her hand to shreds, letting them slip from her fingers and fall through the railing.
Thirty-something, no boyfriend, no life except for my mind-numbing, number-crunching job. I’m sure he saw me as needy, grateful for his attention, willing to do whatever he asked of me to make him happy. I’m sure he considered me lucky to have a man like him in my life. That’s why he hired me. And that’s why I felt empty when he fucked me.

Kyra angrily brushed aside a tear, then leaned over the rail, watching as the proof of her betrayal disappeared into the darkness, along with her dreams for the future.

* * *

After a sleepless night, she decided to dress and head for the office, just because she didn’t know what else to do. At least there, she’d have the comfort of her daily routine to occupy her mind—reviewing bills and accounts receivable, going over monthly tax returns and credit card statements.

Despite the crushing humidity of an August day in South Florida, she chose her favorite black suit, the one with the hip-length jacket and short straight skirt that showed off her legs. Alejandro always said her legs were her best feature. Kyra buttoned up a white silk blouse and then studied herself critically in the full-length mirror in her bathroom, trying to decide if he’d been lying about that too. It hardly mattered now. If some miracle didn’t save her, she’d be covering those legs with an orange jumpsuit for the next—how many would it be—five years? Ten? She had no idea. That, more than anything, terrified her. Kyra hated not having all the facts. But even more, she hated not being in control.

She swept her long dark hair into a casual knot at the back of her head to keep it from turning into a damp riot of curls in the heat of the day. Shoving the thought of prison garb out of her mind, she grabbed her red leather tote and headed out the door without so much as a glance at the warm tropical ocean outside her windows. She’d bought this corner unit in the high-rise condo complex two years ago in the midst of the real estate crash for a fraction of its original cost, convinced that it was a good long-term investment. Her realtor had gone on and on about the killer views, but Kyra had only used the balcony a handful of times before last night. She rarely allowed herself the luxury of sitting around aimlessly enjoying the spectacle laid out before her when there was something more productive to do.

Once at the office, Kyra sat at her desk, her tiny cup of Cuban coffee growing cold in front of her, as numbers flew through her head. The corporate checking account had only a few thousand left in it, not nearly enough to make payroll on Friday for thirty employees. She suddenly realized how many other lives were going to be affected by Alejandro’s betrayal, people he always claimed meant as much to him as family. Thank heaven the real estate market was on an upturn. She’d probably need every penny of the increase in value on her condo to pay for the high-priced lawyers she’d soon have to hire.

The realization galvanized her into action. She was busy scrolling through a list of law firms on line when Alejandro’s secretary buzzed.

“There’s… uh… some people here to see you.” Tami’s voice sounded hesitant. “They wanted to speak with Alejandro, but when I told them he’s away, they asked for you.”

Kyra steeled herself. “Send them to my office,” she replied.

At the firm knock on her door, she took a deep breath, pushed her laptop aside, and arranged her face into a polite smile. “Come in.”

Three burly figures dressed in identical navy suits, white shirts, and cheap, nondescript ties marched through the door. Her spacious office suddenly seemed cramped, the air too thin to breathe.

“Are you Kyra Thornton?”

She forced herself to stay calm. “Yes, I am. And you are…?”

“I’m Special Agent in Charge D. L. Patterson and these are Agents Gutierrez and Navarro. We’re with the FBI.”

He pulled his jacket aside to reveal a badge on his hip. Kyra took a moment to size them up. Patterson was tall and blond and broad-shouldered, quite handsome really, easily six foot two. His co-workers, both with dark hair and eyes, nearly matched him in size. They would tower over most men in Miami with similar Hispanic surnames. She found herself idly speculating about whether there was a height requirement for being a member of the FBI’s intimidation squad. Pushing aside the rising tide of panic that was causing her thoughts to wander aimlessly, she dragged her attention back to the moment.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?”

Patterson’s voice was hard. “Tell us where Alejandro is—and what the two of you did with the money.”

She frowned slightly and wrinkled her brow, hoping her amateur attempt at looking innocent but puzzled would pass muster. “Please, gentlemen, take a seat,” she said, waving to a pair of upholstered chairs arranged in front of her mahogany desk. “We can bring in another chair so you’re all comfortable. I’ll assist you any way I can. Mr. Cabrera is currently out of the country, visiting relatives. And as for your other question, I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Patterson and the others remained standing.
Probably part of their intimidation
training,
one part of her mind was saying.
Shut up so I can concentrate,
she told herself harshly.

Patterson apparently misinterpreted the look on her face. “It won’t do you any good to act tough.”

Act tough? He had to be kidding. She was so terrified, she reached out and cradled the tiny coffee cup in both hands just to keep him from seeing how badly they were shaking. He came closer to the desk and Kyra suddenly wished she’d stood up to greet them. Now his height gave him a distinct advantage.
He’s really quite good at the intimidation thing.
The inane voice in her head was babbling on.

Patterson leaned over her, placing his palms flat on the desk. “I suggest you tell us what we want to know right now,” he said, his voice deceptively calm. “Or, if you prefer, we can go back to headquarters and you can answer questions there.”

Kyra decided that they must not know everything yet. Otherwise they wouldn’t be asking her to answer questions here in the office. They’d have already hauled her off in handcuffs. She decided to stall, even if it only bought her enough time to wedge a mean-ass shark of an attorney between her and these three.

“As I said before, I have no idea what you’re talking about. And I’m not sure you can require me to accompany you to your headquarters unless you’re placing me under arrest. Give me a moment and I’ll get my attorney on the line and ask him.” She reached for the phone, hoping he wouldn’t call her bluff, since she had no idea whose number to dial.