The Boss and the Brat: A Billionaire Romance Read online

  Of course, once we’d reached the lobby, she immediately denied our every touch.

  Did that make her the strongest woman I’d ever met…or a vixen desperate for our next mistake?

  Mackenza silenced me with a glare. “It was a moment of weakness. And it’s over now.”

  “Is it?”

  Mackenza answered with a flash of her middle finger, but she stilled as I raised her hand to my lips and kissed the offending fingertip.

  She shivered—a full body, conquering, instinctual tremble.

  She could lie all she wanted. I knew the truth.

  This woman wanted me as much as I needed her.

  Though she drove me to the brink of resignation, so frustrated I’d sell the entire company for a damned ride out of town, Mackenza was far more manageable while grinding my cock. Had I known fucking her would earn her cooperation, I would’ve mounted her then and there in the koi pond.

  She whimpered a protest as I tugged her close, kissing my way along her arm before ravaging her neck with nibbles and nips. Her dark skin goose bumped under my attention.

  “We can’t do this,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t like you.”

  I chuckled, savoring the lilac tease of her perfume. “What does that have to do with this?”

  She gripped me tight…but didn’t pull away.

  “I won’t have sex with a man I hate.”

  “You don’t know anything about me, Kenza, no matter how much you think you’ve figured me out.”

  “Exactly.” She exposed her neck for another bite. “And you don’t know a thing about me.”

  That wasn’t true.

  “You’re a brat,” I said. “And I know you’d ruin this company with good intentions. Just like I know that the real reason you’re obsessed with leading this company is because the thought of trying something new and venturing into the unknown terrifies you.”

  I must’ve hit a little too close to home. She stiffened.

  So did I.

  My fingers moved on their own, and I seized her whimper of surprise as permission to slip beneath the pink cotton of her pajamas.

  “No panties,” she whispered.

  “Tease.”

  “Nothing to steal.”

  My words growled against her ear. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  I brushed my finger over her secret—blisteringly hot and ready for more than a simple swirl of my hand.

  This woman was spun of pure silk.

  I’d never experienced anyone so soft. Or wet. Her eager hips bucked as I teased the forbidden slit she wished to deny me.

  What a pity that I had wasted those stolen moments with her. I hadn’t explored her velvet depths at all. We’d been too wild, too animalistic. I regretted my rabid, beastly thrusts, but neither of us had needed gentle kisses or tempting touches.

  But Mackenza deserved something better.

  Tenderness. Someone to demonstrate how her body worked and what magic it wove. I should’ve feasted on her sweetness all night.

  Instead, I’d let her get away for far too long. Days without her kiss, touch, body…

  She still pretended I had no effect on her. She panted in defiance, but she straightened her weakening knees and met my gaze with a punishing confidence.

  “I don’t have time for games, Cameron,” she said.

  I had billions of dollars to my name. If anyone could buy time—it was me.

  “You’re hot. Ready.” My mouth watered at the thought. “Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

  To prove my point, I dipped just the tip of my finger into her tightness.

  The woman lurched forward, clinging to me for strength. Her groan was mostly pleasure and only some frustration.

  “Look around.” She pouted. “I’m in the middle of a project. This is the only time I have to work on my own clothing.”

  No more teasing.

  Her breath caught on a gasp as I thrust my finger inside.

  I offered her everything.

  But she merely bumped her hips twice before denying herself a release she desperately needed.

  Mackenza pushed away and sought refuge amid her towers of fabrics.

  “Don’t tell me you’d rather get pricked by a needle than me?” I asked.

  Her words trembled. “Always.”

  “Why?”

  She helplessly shrugged. “You heard the phone call.”

  The truth made her so uncomfortable she hiked her pajama pants up and tugged down the baby-doll t-shirt.

  “Daddy doesn’t have much money,” she said. “Especially for a place like this. But he wants me to stay here—says he has something worked out with the landlord.”

  “Then you should listen to him.”

  We both knew that wouldn’t happen.

  “I’ll handle it on my own,” she said. “Do a little work on the side. Alterations. Tailoring. Commissions. Gotta do something. I’m not taking a salary from the company.”

  Neither was I, but I hadn’t told her that. “So…dresses?”

  “I can earn a little. Sell some of my designs. Then I’ll afford a place on my own that won’t bankrupt my father.”

  “Can you make that much off a dress?”

  “I’m very good.” She hesitated, glancing away. “And it’s not like I have a choice. I’ll take whatever they offer because this is the only way I know how to make any money. Sewing and design. Crafting beautiful dresses and clothing that I’d never be able to afford myself. There’s a reason I make my own gowns for all those fancy parties and runway shows. Of course, I tell everyone it’s because I want to wear something one-of-a-kind, but in reality?” Her voice softened. “Even when the company was doing halfway okay, my parents still struggled. Mortgages and debts. Loaning the business money. We barely survived as long as we did. I don’t think the Maxwells know what it’s like not to struggle.”

  I smirked.

  That only pissed her off.

  “Don’t even say it.” She exhaled a frustrated curse. “You have no idea what it’s like to worry about money.”

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  “It’s not even me I worry about,” she said. “My parents worked so hard, and after all the debts and problems…they hardly have anything. I don’t think Daddy knows how bad things really are.”

  “Of course, he does,” I said. “Why do you think he sold the company to me?”

  She snorted. “That was punishment for years of being financially reckless.”

  The insolence was getting old. “The only person who deserves a punishment is the brat who talks back to her boss.”

  “Maybe he deserves it.”

  “Ever think I might be able to help you? Teach you some things?”

  “Like what?” Mackenza sighed. “How to spread my legs wider? How to take your cock deeper?”

  She hissed with pure spite, and still my body reacted—imagining every last devious pleasure.

  “I’m willing to teach you everything I know.”

  “Not interested.”

  “So, you’d prefer the punishment?” I asked. “Pants at your ankles, Kenza. Time for a spanking.”

  Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  I hadn’t made it this far in life without taking risks.

  I hauled her to the couch. She squealed, but I maneuvered her over my lap with ease. She glared at me, lip pouting, ass arched gloriously awaiting the first slap.

  “Just when I thought you had a single compassionate bone in your body…” She groaned as I held her in place. “You turn my moment of weakness into your own damned sexual fantasy. I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

  Only because she never gave me a chance to tell her the truth.

  A truth I’d never revealed to anyone.

  “I grew up in poverty.” I’d worked hard to ditch the Appalachian accent, but somehow the vowels always twanged when I mentioned my past. “The sort of poor that forced my parents
to decide between heating the house and putting food on the table.”

  Her wiggling ceased.

  She peeked up at me.

  “…Really?” Mackenza asked.

  “Want to know the real story of Cameron Mitchell?” I wagged my hand above her ass.

  Her mouth fell open. “You’re going to trade a spanking for a story?”

  “No,” I said. “You are.”

  “And how do I know you’ll tell the truth?”

  Because I had enough money now that the past could no longer threaten me.

  At least…

  That was the lie I told myself.

  “I was born ten miles outside of Sutton, West Virginia,” I said. “Our home was a converted trailer with a rotten roof and no heat. We lived in the woods, off a private dirt road that didn’t get plowed or serviced in the winter. I walked three miles every day to catch the bus for school and nearly lost two toes in the fourth grade to frost bite because we didn’t have money for boots without holes.”

  Mackenza gasped. “Are you serious?”

  Who would lie about a life that meager?

  “I lived in the sort of poverty that makes the wealth I possess now worse than vulgar. We had running water, but nothing to eat. Money to pay debt, but none for shoes. No car. No heat. Just a lot of suffering once the mines shut down and my father’s crippled back couldn’t handle a day’s work anymore.”

  “I had no idea.”

  No one did.

  I made sure of it.

  “The money I have now is fucking sinful. And I should be ashamed of hoarding so much of it. But the only thing I fear more than the world learning of my past is once again returning to that soul-rending desperation. You know how people stuff money under the mattress for safekeeping? I have three off-shore bank accounts in the Cayman Islands, Switzerland, and Dublin squirreled away just in case.”

  “Is that why you work so much?” Mackenza asked. “Why you jump industry to industry instead of relaxing on a beach somewhere?”

  I stayed silent, adjusting her hips over my legs.

  She waved a hand over her bottom.

  “Slap away, hillbilly,” she said. “I’ve gotta hear this.”

  That was my pleasure.

  This was a privilege even money couldn’t buy.

  I tugged her pajama bottoms lower, exposing her perfectly rounded ass. Fleshy. Bouncy. Begging for the sharp sting of a man in control.

  I thought I’d savor my first spank, but even pure discipline was swayed by absolute beauty.

  My hand cracked against her ass with more noise than sting. Just hard enough to elicit a surprised Oh from the brat.

  Nothing intense, only a playful pressure that she’d remember tonight, tomorrow, and until the next time she begged for it again.

  “I work because I can,” I said. “If there’s money to be made, then I want it. All of it.”

  “Do you think it protects you?”

  “It certainly helps.”

  “Helps to forget?”

  I slapped her once more, admiring the slight jiggle.

  “I’ll never forget where I came from.”

  She swallowed hard, but her voice steadied. “Your biography says that you grew up lower class. Not poor.”

  Another smack.

  I expected her to tense. Instead, Mackenza nearly melted over my legs.

  “Believe me,” I said. “It took an ironic amount of money to hide the truth of my childhood poverty.”

  “Are you ashamed of it?”

  Another slap.

  Her fingers gripped my slacks, more out of surprise than sting.

  I shook my head. “Not ashamed. Just determined that I’d never face that sort of hunger or misery again.”

  “Why not tell the story? You could inspire people.”

  My hand grazed the curve of her ass before landing yet another perfect spank. This one echoed her pleased coo across the penthouse.

  “I came from an old coal mining community that has more meth than natural deposits now. I don’t want to remember that.”

  She hummed. “I just can’t imagine you being that poor. No wonder you wear whatever’s most expensive.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Means you choose a display of wealth over actual fashion.”

  “Say the magic words, and I’ll strip down.”

  “I’ve seen enough of you—thanks.”

  “And what do you think of me?”

  She shrugged, glancing at me with a hidden giggle. “I think more people better search the backwoods of West Virginia to find their men.”

  That earned her a playful smack—one she’d forever deny that she’d eagerly arched to meet.

  “I haven’t been back to West Virginia since I was nineteen.”

  “What about your family?”

  The word soured my stomach. I let the question go without a smack.

  “I grew up with my mom, dad, and sister. And our debt. We had so much it was like another member of the family.”

  Mackenza frowned. “I didn’t know you have a sister.”

  My hand stilled. “Had.”

  “Oh…” Her words quieted. “I’m sorry.”

  It wasn’t worth mourning anymore. We’d lost enough of our lives in grief.

  “She died when I was young.”

  Mackenza shifted, lifting off my lap. But she didn’t go far, just took a step to kick away the pajama pants before straddling my legs to meet my gaze.

  This I didn’t need.

  I’d already revealed more to her than I’d ever shared with anyone else. Last thing I wanted was her pity.

  “That must’ve been so hard on you,” she said.

  Not that I’d admit. “Julie was older than me. Four years. She had cancer, but we didn’t have the money to help her. That tore up my parents. Once she died, Mom couldn’t work. Dad drank too much to hold down a job. Both of them—too depressed and drunk to function. I did what I could when I got old enough, but it didn’t save them, especially after my dad drank himself sick. My sister’s medical bills were hard enough. Dad’s were worse. Couldn’t escape it.”

  Mackenza’s fingers twisted in my shirt. “So…how did you become you?”

  I needed anything to clear the darkness.

  A drink. A flight to the first Caribbean island for sale. A beautiful woman.

  “Gotta pay the toll,” I warned.

  Mackenza weighed her options before leaning forward. “Spank away.”

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you enjoyed this.”

  Both of my hands slapped her bare ass. She nearly crumpled into me, breath heated and trembling.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said. “I’m doing whatever I can to figure you out.”

  “Still deciding if you can trust me?”

  “Oh, I know that’ll never happen. But I’d like to know how badly you’re going to ruin me—in every definition.”

  “Maybe I can make your life better.”

  “How?”

  I glanced down. “Take off the shirt, and I’ll show you.”

  “Story first.” She poked my chest. “Then we’ll see what it gets you.”

  No one could deny that Mackenza Maxwell drove a hard bargain.

  “I dropped out of high school.” Seemed so damned long ago that it didn’t seem relevant to the conversation. “We had nothing for me in the house. No one to watch me. Feed me. Figured I’d either score some meth and die before thirty, or I’d man up. If I wanted food, shoes, and a chance to escape, I had to do it on my own. So, when I was fifteen, I walked seven miles to the local library every morning and taught myself all I needed to know. Learned to code.”

  “At fifteen?”

  “Even a kid can do amazing things when he’s cold and hungry enough,” I said. “I hated programming, but I developed a couple of productivity scripts that I turned into a fully functional program. I got lucky and sold a decent app. A couple of local companies wanted to inve
st, and I used that money to develop a program good enough to sell. Made my first fortune at nineteen, turned around, and invested it in another company. And that’s where I made the real money. Guess I’m better at selling companies than coding. Made a couple million before I could drink to celebrate it.”

  “Not many people have a talent for making money.”

  Not that it’d helped.

  I spanked her once more, but I didn’t remove my hand. Instead, I held her closer, and my fingers tickled around her curves, savoring the warmth of her back.

  She edged closer, and it took every bit of willpower to focus my eyes on her and not the sizzling heat between her legs, grinding into my lap.

  “Once I had the money, I moved my parents out of that miserable trailer, and I gave them everything they’ve ever wanted. Everything they’d never had. A new home. Complete wardrobe. Dinners at Michelin star restaurants. Proper medical care.”

  “That’s great.”

  But the truth of it still pitted my gut.

  “It was too late,” I said. “Dad died ten years ago. Liver failure. It broke Mom. Wanted nothing to do with the money, the new houses, the vacations. She hated my wealth and moved back to West Virginia. I had to demolish the trailer myself so she’d move into a decent house in the town.”

  “She didn’t want the help?”

  The frustration grated at me. “She didn’t want anything. She broke when Julie died, and it got worse after Dad passed. No matter the houses I built for her, the cars I had delivered, the jewelry I threw at her…nothing fixed it. She’s content to wallow in grief. I’m not. I vowed that I would never be poor again—not while I had the means to squeeze every last dime out of this world. I live for success now.”

  Mackenza nodded. “And you do well.”

  “You really think so?” I snorted. “Then you haven’t learned anything about me at all.”

  Her touch chased away the haunted pessimism of a life nearly lost to misery.

  Now I regretted this idiotic game.

  Too many secrets revealed. Too much truth for her to use as ammunition.

  “And so you chase success,” she said. “From the tops of mountains to the bottom of the sea.”

  I couldn’t lie with a beautiful woman half-naked in my lap.

  “Yeah.”

  “All for fear that you’ll wind up poor again,” she said.