The Billionaire's Secret Love Child(24)

He was rich, and it opened Dana to a world that she could have never imagined she would ever be a part of. The extravagance, the seemingly wasted money. Dana often teased the older man on what she would do with so much money. “I would give most of it to charity,” she said from bed one evening.”

“Which charity?” Greg asked, a smirk upon his face.

“A lot of charities,” she said, and he had laughed and nodded.

The problem with the sex shop seemed to be resolved in a better way than Dana could have hoped for, a month after she put it up for sale. Someone had purchased it, apparently a businessman from across the country. He wanted to keep the business open, and wanted her to run it. The only real difference, other than the fact that she didn’t own The Treasure Chest anymore, was that she was now drawing an actual salary.

“Did you buy my shop?” Dana asked Greg over dinner one night. They were back in New York city, having flown in on Saturday, and planning on staying until Sunday night.

“What?” Greg asked, looking at her. He had found out about her problems a week before the shop was bought. She had been stressed out on one of their dates, and after a couple of glasses of wine, he had gotten the whole story out of her. He had promised her not to get involved, however.

“A man named Mr. White bought the shop. Some mysterious business man from California. Wants me to run the place. Was it you?”

“My name isn’t Mr. White,” Greg said, smiling and cracking a joke.

“I know it isn’t, but I haven’t met him or anything, he’s just some mysterious rich man who wants my business?”

“Sex sells.”

“Not that sex. The internet is killing me. He won’t make money.”

“He must think he will, eventually.”

“Did you buy it? I don’t want your help.”

“I know,” Greg said. “It wasn’t me.”

“You promise?””

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Dana said, and she smiled across the table at her lover. “What are we doing tonight.”

Greg smiled. “I have a surprise for you actually.”

After dinner, they returned to his penthouse, the massive open space in the skyscraper they had landed on once more after flying into the city. Greg led the way out of the elevator, heading down a long hall to the only door there. He unlocked it with a keycard, as he did each time they visited the room. Flickering light met Dana as she stepped inside; there were, at least, a hundred lit candles in the open living room, and more leading back towards the far corner of the massive apartment, where a king sized bed sat under a long window with an impressive view of the city.

“Romantic,” Dana smiled, looking over at Greg as he shut the door and locked it behind them.

“Wait,” he said, and then he motioned towards the bedroom, and she went that way. She was wearing a red dress and matching heels, and she stopped for a moment to bend and take them off, but Greg stopped her. “Do what I tell you. Don’t undress yourself. Go sit on the bed.”

Dana nodded, her heart rate already elevating. It was going to be one of those nights. He was in charge. He would dominate her, and she would do what he said and wanted. Dana had no idea just what that would entail.

She perched on the end of the bed and looked up to him. He stood before her, reaching into his pocket and pulling his cell phone out. He dialed a number and held the phone to his ear.

“Come up,” he said.

A single thought flashed through Dana’s head. It was the woman with the strap on, coming to f*ck her while Greg watched from the highback easy chair in the corner.

“I don’t think I’m ready for a woman,” Dana said, but Greg just glared at her, and raised a finger to quiet her as he hung up and slid his phone back into his pocket.

“I’m in charge,” he said, and then, as he turned and left, he added, “Stay here.”

Dana did so, her pulse pounding, the idea of being with another woman freezing her in place. It was frightening. She didn‘t even swing that way remotely; she had never been curious about women. She was so reserved, something that she had been working through with the help of Greg, but this, it was just too much.

And then Greg returned, and the young woman in the red dress found that her fears were unwarranted. They were entirely misplaced. Greg did return with someone, but it wasn’t some busty bimbo with a big black strap-on jutting from delicate hips.

It was a young man.





4



He looked to be about twenty, and he had blonde hair which fell to his shoulders, and skin so tanned it could be called olive. Dana thought he might be foreign, and he confirmed it when he spoke to her, his accent something from the Mediterranean.

“Lovely woman,” he said, and Dana couldn't be sure if he were talking to her, or about her.

“This is Homer,” Greg said, motioning to his friend. Dana thought the name didn’t suit the man, but she smiled in the soft candlelight and nodded.

“Hello,” she said.

“Stand up,” Homer said in return, and Dana looked to Greg.

“You’ll do as I say, and I say you do as Homer says,” the older man said, and Dana stood, suddenly self-conscious in her thin dress. Homer stepped forward, and she could smell his aftershave and expensive cologne, and she could feel the heat from his body. He was wearing a pale blue button up shirt, the first three buttons undone so she could admire his toned and hairless chest. His pants were tight, his shoes expensive Italian leather. All things Dana had come to admire and appreciate since dating a billionaire.