My French Billionaire (In Bed with a Billionaire Book 5) Read online

A full minute passed, and his phone remained silent.

  Christien: It’s only until you turn eighteen.

  Christien: Kharis?

  Thirty minutes later, and Kharis still hadn’t replied. Just let it go, the billionaire told himself. It wouldn’t do to spoil her and let her think that she only had to ignore him a little, and he’d come running. Besides, this could just be Kharis getting back at him for not calling her even once since he had left Connecticut.

  His fingers drummed on the desk as he stared broodingly at his still-silent iPhone.

  Let. It. Go.

  Three hours later, and Christien di Luca’s field team was frantically preparing for the billionaire’s arrival in Connecticut. Their duties ranged from ensuring the billionaire’s lodgings – whether it was in a five-star hotel or, in this case, a local inn – had his favorite brandy in stock to renting a vehicle that would meet their employer’s exacting standards.

  Their work took them all over the world. One month they’d be in Tokyo checking out the quality of yukatas at a hot springs resort. Another month they’d be studying the amenities offered at a famous glass igloo resort and monitoring the viewing times of the Northern Lights in Iceland.

  The location of their assignments had always been exciting and glamorous, and at the start, everyone in the billionaire’s field team couldn’t wait to travel to their next destination. Moreover, the pay was great, and Christien di Luca was a fair and generous man to work for. Everything would have been perfect except for one thing.

  Their boss didn’t know the meaning of “rest” even if it hit him on the head.

  As time passed, the billionaire’s punishing schedule began to take its toll, and the field team’s enthusiasm started to wane. None of them, however, had the courage to voice out a complaint to the billionaire, much less hope that something would change.

  Or at least things used to look completely hopeless…until seventeen-year-old Kharis Stamos had entered the picture.

  “Do you suppose they had a fight?” Brandon, one of the billionaire’s field bodyguards, asked his companion curiously as he slammed the limousine door shut. A quick glance at his watch told him they still had about half an hour to spare before their boss came walking out of the airport doors.

  Long enough for a quick smoke, Brandon thought and pulled out a box of cigarettes from his pocket. He offered it to the billionaire’s field driver, asking, “Want one?”

  “No, thanks.” Elmer pulled out his phone, asking, “You know Viola, the new girl at Nightmare?” At the bodyguard’s nod, he showed Brandon his phone, saying, “We were chatting earlier and she gave me this link.”

  Brandon started when he realized what the online article was about. “Whoa.”

  “You think that’s why the boss is suddenly flying here?”

  “Must be. Can you think of any other reason? You know how the boss works. Everything’s been pre-planned at least two years in advance, but this flight was only added to our schedule thirty minutes before takeoff.”

  The bodyguard smirked. “Must’ve given Kevin a heart attack.”

  Elmer smirked. “Either that, or it made him shit in his pants at least.” Kevin was their TL or team leader, the one responsible for coordinating everyone’s tasks in the field team.

  “Did you read the whole thing?” Brandon asked.

  “I skimmed it,” the driver answered. “It had a list thing for each of the guys.”

  “A list thing?” Brandon echoed blankly. “What the hell did it list?”

  “Qualities a girl should and shouldn’t have if they wanted to be the perfect match for their favorite BBF.”

  “No shit!” In the act of lighting himself a cigarette, Brandon suddenly froze when an idea occurred to him. “Was there any mention of Ms. Stamos?” Because if there was, then his job was going to be hell once people found out where Kharis Stamos lived – and the fact that Christien di Luca had flown in to see her.

  Elmer grimaced. “Yeah, well, that’s the thing. There wasn’t even a hint of the boss dating at present, and that’s why Viola thinks the boss is coming over.”

  There was a moment of silence as the two men absorbed this rather unexpected situation. In all the years they had worked for the billionaire, none of their employer’s lovers had ever made the mistake of taking him to task for anything. But if Kharis Stamos had, and the billionaire responded by flying over to Connecticut in the middle of the night---

  The two men started to grin.

  “He’s going to grovel,” Elmer realized out loud, and sheer amazement had him shaking his head.

  “Unbelievable as fuck.” Brandon found himself shaking his head. “Do you think the boss even knows how to grovel?”

  Behind them, a cool, strongly accented voice drawled, “I wouldn’t know. Perhaps the two of you can show me how it’s done?”

  The two men froze.

  “Or would you rather lose your jobs instead?”

  Stuttered apologies came out as Brandon and Elmer hastily turned to face their billionaire employer.

  Christien made a dismissive motion with his hand, and the two men fell silent. “I was only kidding.”

  Elmer and Brandon didn’t answer. Christien di Luca had never cracked a joke in their presence, so they weren’t exactly sure how to take the billionaire’s words now.

  Realizing he would get nowhere with the two, Christien released an impatient sigh. “Never mind. Just get me to Kharis’ place.”

  “Yes, sir,” the two men uttered in swift chorus, both of them quietly relieved to do something they were used to. The billionaire ordering them around was normal. The billionaire trading jokes with them was not.

  Kharis’ new home was a good thirty minutes away from the airport, leaving the billionaire restless and brooding at the back of the limousine. The fact that his iPhone remained conspicuously silent chafed at him. What if she had decided to break things off between them? Weren’t teenagers fickle that way? What if she had realized he wasn’t worth all the trouble of sneaking around? What if some boy in her high school had made her realize that he was too old for her?

  The last thought had Christien’s fists clenching.

  No. Fucking. Way.

  He hadn’t asked Kharis to give herself to him. She had done so out of her own free will, and whether she liked it or not, it was going to stay that way.

  By the time they made it to Kharis’ new place, the billionaire was in a grim mood. In the course of thirty minutes, he had already convinced himself of the worst. Kharis had changed her mind about them. Kharis was merely using the tabloid article to break things off with him. And worst of all, Kharis had found another boy in high school she liked better than she liked Christien.

  Christien’s jaw clenched.

  We’ll see about that, little mutant.

  After instructing his staff to return for him tomorrow morning, the billionaire headed up to the front doors of the Tudor mansion he had bought for Kharis and her grandfather. He only had to knock once before the live-in housekeeper opened the doors for him.

  “Good evening, Mr. di Luca.”

  “I’m sorry if I woke you up, Mrs. Grant.”

  “It’s no problem, sir.”

  “How is Kharis’ grandfather?”

  The housekeeper beamed. “Mr. Stamos is doing extremely better. This place has been great for him. His nurses say another month of therapy should do the trick, and Mr. Stamos will be out of the wheelchair for good.”

  “That’s great to hear.” He paused. “And Kharis? Is she awake?”

  “I’m not sure, sir. She retired to her room awfully early.” The housekeeper gave him a politely inquiring look. “Shall I prepare the guest room for you, sir?”

  The billionaire didn’t hesitate. “Yes, please.” Never mind if he had no plans of using the room. He owed it to Paul to at least pretend he was observing the rules of propriety when staying with them.

  He waited until the housekeeper disappeared into the guestroom before m
aking his way to the third-floor attic, which had been converted into Kharis’ bedroom. He knocked on the door thrice before trying the knob.

  It turned effortlessly under his fingers, and Christian frowned as he made a mental note to remind Kharis about exercising a bit more caution when it came to her personal safety.

  Stepping inside her dimly lit room, he quietly shut the door behind him before turning towards the bed---

  A figure suddenly rose to a sitting position, the covers falling to reveal a woman with a ghostly white face.

  “Fuck!”

  A moment later, and the main lights of the room blazed into life.

  “Christien?”

  Fuck, the billionaire thought again, his heart still pounding against his chest.

  It was Kharis. Just Kharis. Only, her face was nowhere to be seen, with every inch covered by a layer of orange goo and about a dozen slices of cucumber.

  Barely able to stomach the sight of her, he demanded, “What the hell did you do to your face?”

  “Oh my.” A giggle escaped her. “Did I scare you?”

  “You still are.” What was it with this girl and her love for hideous masks? If Clive Barker had ever thought of creating a vegetable monster, then it would probably look like how Kharis looked now.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He pointed to the en-suite bathroom. “How about getting rid of the garden growing on your face before talking to me?”

  Most people would have quailed at the billionaire’s scathing tone, but this only made Kharis giggle even more. “I’d never have pegged you to be such a scaredy-cat.”

  His cheeks flushed at the barb, and he glared at her, muttering, “I’m not.”

  Kharis only laughed as she padded towards the bathroom. Leaving the door open, she met his gaze through the vanity mirror---

  And winked.

  The billionaire’s lips pressed together. He would not laugh. She could never know that wink could get her anywhere and everywhere with him.

  Kharis started peeling off the cucumber from her orange skin. It was a ghastly sight, like a zombie shedding its disfigured flesh, and the billionaire blanched before he could help himself.

  Kharis burst into laughter.

  He swung away from the sight of her with a muttered curse. “What the hell is that on your face, anyway?”

  “Vegetable mask.”

  Jesus Christ. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you simply had a facial at a clinic?”

  “Too expensive.”

  “Do I look like I can’t afford to pay for your facial?” he growled.

  “Doesn’t matter. I still think it’s too expensive.”

  “Then order a beauty product or something.”

  “This is the beauty product.” Kharis’ tone was smug. “And once I perfect the formula, I’m going to make boatloads of money with it.” She walked into view, now fresh-faced and grinning. “So watch out. I might be richer than you one day.”

  The billionaire didn’t answer. Now that Kharis had stopped looking like vegetable vomit on legs, he was finally able to have a proper stare at her.

  And it was making him remember the things he had forced himself to forget back in Miami.

  Kharis blinked in bemusement when the billionaire didn’t answer and only continued staring at her. “Christien?”

  Pajamas, he thought blankly. She was dressed in rainbow pajamas, and her long blonde hair was a curly mess around her face. Nothing about her was sexy – and yet that was exactly how she looked in the billionaire’s eyes.

  “Christien?” When he still said nothing, she added teasingly, breathlessly, “You’re staring at me.”

  And so he was.

  Her lips slowly curved into a smile that was both sweet and mischievous. “Have you forgotten that you have a crush on me?”

  Ah.

  He had forgotten how wonderfully crazy her humor was, and the billionaire was about to give her a deadpan answer when he saw Kharis run her tongue over her lips.

  Fuck.

  “I guess I have,” he heard himself say.

  She froze.

  “So…care to remind me how much I’m crushing on you?”

  Sexual tension, silent and raw, erupted in the air at his words, and under his hooded gaze, her nipples slowly pebbled against the thin cotton of her pajama top. The sight made him inhale sharply, and when she wetted her lips anew, it was all he could do not to haul her to him and sink his now-raging erection into her moist, tender pussy.

  Seventeen, he strove to remind himself. Kharis was seventeen---

  But at the same time, he heard Kharis say, “Teach me.” And when the billionaire’s blue eyes jerked to hers, he saw that her smile had become even a hundred times sweeter…and a thousand times more seductive.

  It hit him then.

  The little mutant was trying to seduce him.

  “Kharis, dammit.” The words came out in a low, tortured groan, and when the billionaire saw that the sound only made her breasts swell more prominently against the thin fabric covering them, he groaned again. Didn’t she know that her boobs looked like they were about to pop out of her top?

  She slowly walked towards him.

  And he found himself backing away from her.

  This was hilarious, the billionaire thought. Fucking hilarious.

  Not.

  “Stop this.”

  “Stop what?” This time, her smile had turned coy, and the sight of it was distracting as hell.

  She had so many different kinds of smiles, and all of them were so damn irresistible.

  His back hit the wall.

  Shit.

  His jaw clenched. “Stop this.”

  Unfortunately, the hardness of his voice only made her smile change.

  And goddammit, the smile was a different one again. It was the smile of a playful minx – the kind of girl who knew she had her man wrapped around her little finger.

  His eyes squeezed shut.

  And the fucking worst thing about that was that it was true.

  Kharis Stamos might be a teenager, and he might be the adult around here. But the way things worked between them, it was his seventeen-year-old girlfriend who was calling the shots.

  Always had been.

  “Christien.” Her sweet husky voice reached him, and a shudder racked his body at how near – so damn near – she sounded.

  A moment later, her small soft hand touched his chest.

  FUCK.

  And that was it.

  He hauled her up, and Kharis’ gasp was lost in their kiss as his mouth covered hers. When he started walking, she didn’t protest but instead looped her arms around his neck while her legs went around his waist.

  Laying Kharis on her bed, he pulled away slightly to look down at her.

  She smiled up at him – a smile that was part-vixen, part-virgin – and he realized then that there was no point counting her smiles. They would always be different. Unique. Just like no other woman could be Kharis.

  “Christien?”

  “Mm.”

  “Are we going to have sex now?”

  The billionaire winced. Spoken exactly like the seventeen-year-old innocent that she was. He said grimly, “No.”

  His little mutant had the gall to look disappointed. “Why not?”

  “The fact that you’re asking---” His voice was even grimmer now. “---is all the more reason that I can’t make love to you.”

  She scowled. “Spoilsport.”

  “Rather than that…” He smiled humorlessly. “You’re the one who’s been spoiled too much in your life.”

  “I have not!”

  He gazed at her reddened cheeks pointedly, and her flush deepened. Even without the benefit of his long chat with Kharis’ grandfather, one only had to spend enough time with Kharis to see that she had become headstrong because of the way Paul and his friends had allowed her to get away with almost anything.

  “Okay, fine. I might’ve been spoiled a bit, but I’m no
t a brat.” She gazed up at him challengingly. “And don’t you dare say that I’m a brat, because I know you’d be lying.”

  He raised a brow. “Is that so?”

  “It’s exactly so, Christien di Luca. Because I know you---” And she smirked up at him. “And you, sir, are not the type to crush on a brat.” When she saw his lips twitch at her words, a triumphant expression crossed her face, and she asked cheekily, “Am I right or am I right?”

  “Ever heard of the term ‘gracious in victory?’” he asked dryly.

  Eyes twinkling, she said, “No.” And then she shrugged, the action causing her breasts with its puckered nipples to brush against his chest---

  Fuck.

  His eyes glittered down at her, and he muttered under his breath, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Done what---mmph.”

  Again, the rest of her words were lost in his kiss, but this time there was no chance of a reprieve. As the billionaire deepened his kiss, his hands slowly roamed her body, his senses savoring every little discovery.

  The satiny texture of her skin, the little catches of her breath, the spots where she was most sensitive---

  He committed everything to mind, wanted to memorize every damn thing so that he could savor the memories whenever they were apart.

  Kharis gasped for breath when his mouth finally left her, only to gasp again when she felt his mouth travel down the length of her neck.

  “Christien.”

  It was the sexiest little sigh, and it had him sucking long and hard on her neck.

  After, his mouth moved farther down, his fingers unbuttoning her pajama top as it descended.

  “Jesus.”

  The muttered exclamation escaped him as he realized that she was completely bra-less under her pajama top, and he swallowed hard as he pushed the sides apart to expose her breasts completely to his gaze.

  “S-Stop staring, please.”

  “Never.” A mewl of embarrassment escaped her, but Christien didn’t pay it any heed. Cupping her tender breasts with his hands, he kneaded them gently until they started swelling in size and her nipples began to pucker up more insistently.

  “Christien.” The soft, agonized plea had his cock throbbing hard. “M-my breasts ache.”

  Ah, God.

  Didn’t she know what such words would do to him?