The Billionaire’s Big Bold Wish: An Older Billionaire/Younger BBW Romance (The Billionaires’ Club)

‘Please leave,’ I growl at Justice, even though I know he won’t listen to me. He never does.

‘No.’ The simple word rolls from his lips as if he’s put his whole soul into uttering it just to piss me off. It wouldn’t surprise me if he did.

Justice Foster is my own personal ghost. I know this because he haunts my every waking moment, tangling my heart and mind into snarls that tighten the more I struggle. He’s bossy and infuriating. He’s also the sexiest man I’ve ever met…and the only one I’ve ever wanted.

He’s in his early forties, with a touch of silver in his hair and the devil in his dark eyes. He’s tall and broad, beautiful in the same way fallen angels are. That heavenly exterior hides an entire world of secrets and sin. I see them staring out from his eyes, luring me with visions I shouldn’t have.

His secrets are Siren song, tempting me to ensnare myself in his dark web. And just like Odysseus, I find myself drawing a little bit closer every single time I set eyes on him. I want to belong to him so badly it’s terrifying.

A whole flock of birds dance in my stomach when he looks at me. My heart lodges itself in my throat. He makes me vulnerable in a way I’ve never been for anyone else. I want things from him I shouldn’t. Dream about things that should shame me but don’t.

Even before it was possible, I ached for him and the comfort of his embrace. He’s the devil, but the only thing I see when I look at him is salvation.

It’s infuriating!

He’s autocratic, demanding…dangerous. People say he made his billions doing horrible things. I know he kept Ainsley under lock and key, not letting anyone get too close to her. Not letting her experience the world. She was suffocating in his care, but he didn’t even notice it. Or maybe he did and didn’t care.

Either way, that should have convinced me to stop thinking about him, to stop wanting him. It didn’t. Because underneath all of that, I know the kind of man he is. I know he changed his entire life to keep Ainsley safe. I know he adores her. I know he’s the reason my dad showed up to my eighteenth birthday relatively sober. He thinks I don’t know he’s the one who dragged him back here from Greece, but I do.

I also know he still has nightmares about what happened to Ainsley’s parents. I hear him crying out into the dark, pleading for forgiveness, when I stay with Ainsley. It takes everything I have not to go to him and hold him through it. I cry with him. He doesn’t know that. I think it would hurt him to know how often I’ve stood in witness to his private pain.

Justice keeps everyone at arm’s length. Including me. He goes out of his way to avoid me.

I hate it.

People think I’m a spoiled little princess because my father tries to make up for being a bad parent with expensive gifts and lavish trips. They say I’m a brat without even knowing me. They’re wrong. I don’t need expensive gifts or fancy trips. I don’t even want them. All I want is Justice. He looks at me and I want to misbehave, just to see what he’ll do. Just to mess up his neatly ordered existence.

No one tells Justice what to do. No one stands up to him. No one disagrees with him. They give him whatever he wants simply because they’re cowards, too afraid to risk his wrath. I’m not afraid of him or his reputation. He doesn’t scare me.

I like the way he looks at me as if he wants to spank me when I challenge him. I taunt him every time we’re in the same room because I can’t help it. He’s been driving me crazy for years, making me ache to feel his arms around me, to know what it would be like to be his in every way.

I want to rattle him like he does me.

I want him to ache like he makes me ache.

Just once, I want him to let me in.

He thinks he’s got me all figured out, but he doesn’t. He thinks he sees me, but he doesn’t. If he did, he’d know that I’ve been in love with him since I was sixteen. He’d know that I’ve never dated anyone because no one compares to him. He’d know that it’s his name I whisper in the dark when I touch myself. His name and the one I say even though I shouldn’t.

Daddy.

The things I want from Justice…he doesn’t know those things. He can’t ever know those things. So I piss him off and push his buttons and fight him every step of the way. Because that’s far easier than seeing revulsion in those dark eyes. It’s easier than him taking Ainsley away from me.

Ironic, considering he kind of did that anyway. I’m here, and Ainsley is out there on her own, living her best life for the first time ever. I already miss her, but it doesn’t matter what Justice says or does to me, I won’t betray her. I’ll fight for her even if it means fighting him because she deserves freedom.

He’s kept her locked away far too long. It’s time he realizes that she isn’t a little girl anymore.

It’s time he realizes I’m not either.

‘I don’t want your guard dogs here, Justice,’ I say, trying to put space between us.

He stalks me across my bedroom, refusing to let me get too far away from him. I don’t know what game he’s playing at, but I wait until he’s practically on top of me and then dodge to the right to go around him. I don’t even make it two steps before his arms close around me.

I want to lean into him, press my body against his and breathe in that smoky amber scent that haunts me every time I step through his front door. I resist him instead, struggling to get away before I do something embarrassing and throw myself at him. He’s been holding me at arm’s length for the last year. I think it might actually break me to be rejected outright by him. So I avoid it at all costs.

‘Stop fighting me before I spank you,’ he growls, his lips so close to my ear I feel his breath dance across my lobe and into my soul.

An earthquake starts in my belly, shaking loose a tsunami of need. I want him to spank me.

‘Don’t tell me what to do.’ I struggle against his hold anyway, trying not to whimper his name. It’s hard though. He’s all I’ve wanted for so damn long. Feeling his arms around me, even if he’s only touching me to keep me still, is heaven and hell at the same time.

I’ve been alone for most of my life. My father was madly in love with my mom. When she died, something inside of him broke. He can’t stand being near me because I look like her. So he stays as far from me as he can, desperately trying to assuage his guilt with his checkbook and exorcise memories of my mom with alcohol and escorts. I raised myself with the help of the staff he hired to fill our house.

When I was old enough, he sent me to boarding school until I got myself kicked out for fighting. I didn’t mean to do it, but Jayme Peters was telling everyone that I wasn’t going home for Christmas because my dad hated me. When I confronted her, she pushed me, so I punched her. Her friends lied and said I started it. I didn’t argue. There wasn’t any point.

I’ve been alone ever since, with no one but the cook and groundskeeper to keep me company. I can’t remember the last time someone other than Ainsley touched me…except for Willis when he tried to cuff me today, anyway. My point is, Justice touching me is like waving a bottle of tequila in front of an addict trying to go cold turkey.

It’s bound to end in disaster.

So I struggle in his arms, twisting and turning, trying to get loose before I slip up and get too close, need too much. Better he thinks I’m a brat than knows just how desperate I am to be touched. To be loved. And not just by anyone, but by him. He’s my Achilles heel, the chink in my armor…my soft spot. For as long as I’ve known him, it’s always been him.

‘Let me go,’ I growl at him.

‘No.’

‘Justice, dammit.’ I bring my foot back, trying to kick him in the shin.

He’s much quicker than Willis. Somehow, he senses the move and manages to dodge me.

‘Settle down before I bend you over your bed and turn your ass red, Milan,’ he growls in my ear. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’

No, you’re just going to break me.

‘You’re not my father,’ I snap even as I feel myself softening toward him, even as I feel myself giving him what he wants. Part of me wants to fight just to see if he follows through on his threat. Part of me wants to feel his hand on my ass. Part of me is smart enough to realize he’ll actually do it. That part wins. I stop fighting him.

‘You’re right, I’m not your father,’ he growls. ‘But that’s not what you want from me, is it? We both know what you call me when you’re alone at night, Milan. Does saying it make your little cunt ache for me, baby girl?’

His erection nudges my back, and oh my god. This isn’t happening. It can’t be. He doesn’t want the things I want. He can’t…can he?

He slides one rough hand down my body until his fingertips meet my thighs.

My dress inches upward little by little.

‘Stop me if I’m wrong,’ he says softly.

I sob wordlessly, trying to resist him, trying to deny the truth. I can’t. How do you stop your heart from beating? I don’t know. I don’t know what game he’s playing or how he found out about the dirty things I fantasize about either…but he knows.

I won’t say the word though. No matter what he does to me, I won’t do it.

His fingertips glide up my thighs and my soul quivers, pleading for him to go higher, to touch me where I ache.

‘Let me go,’ I whisper, one last desperate attempt to keep him from getting too close.

‘Never, princess.’

‘Justice, dammit.’

‘Say it, Milan.’

‘No.’

‘Say it, baby girl,’ he whispers. Justice is larger than life to me. He’s always so controlled. He rules his kingdom with an iron fist. He doesn’t ask for anything. He certainly doesn’t beg. But he’s begging me now. I hear the almost imperceptible thread in his voice, a vulnerability I think he’d torch the world to keep anyone from seeing. But he’s letting me see it.

I crack down the middle…and cave.

Please, don’t break me.

‘What do you call me when you touch yourself, baby girl?’

‘D-daddy,’ I whisper, confirming my darkest secret, the one I’ve fought so hard to keep him from ever discovering.

The sound he makes then…God, it hurts. It’s dark and rough and desperate and so damn beautiful all at the same time. His hand slides up my inner thigh, his thumb touching the seam of my panties.

‘Wet,’ he growls.

He’s not wrong. They’re soaked through because of him, for him.

‘Does it hurt, pretty baby?’

‘S-s-so bad,’ I sob before I can stop myself.

‘You like fighting me,’ he murmurs.

His lips touch the side of my throat, and it’s my turn to make that noise. It bubbles up from that place deep, deep down where I’ve tried to hide my feelings for him. It erupts in a keening whine that has him moving even closer to me, as if instinctively trying to protect me.

‘You want to know a secret?’ he asks, planting little kisses all over my neck. His thumb slides back and forth over the seam of my panties, so close to where I need him, but not quite close enough. ‘Your daddy likes it too, princess.’

My legs collapse beneath me.

‘Shit.’ He catches me in his arms, swinging me up and cradling me against his chest.

For several long moments, we just stare at each other. Both shocked, I think. Both trying desperately to read the other’s thoughts. I’m not sure what’s more surprising to me. The fact that he called himself my daddy at all…or the fact that it sounded exactly right coming from his lips, as if he’s said it before.

Is it possible…?

‘Justice,’ I whisper into the charged silence.

‘Pack a bag,’ he says at the same time.

I blink at him.

‘You’re coming home with me.’

Just that quickly the mood between us changes. He’s the bossy billionaire again, and I’m the brat who defies him like it’s a biological imperative.

‘Put me down.’

He quirks a brow.

‘Please,’ I say, rolling my eyes.

‘Roll your eyes at me again, you’ll be getting that spanking,’ he says, carefully putting me back on my feet. He keeps his arms out as if to catch me when I stumble.

I quickly right myself and then spin to face him.

‘I’m not staying at your house,’ I say.

‘You are.’

‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re an asshole?’ I ask, throwing my hands up into the air. He speaks his command and expects everyone to spring into action to obey. I hate to break it to him, but I’m not one of his subjects. I don’t care if he is richer than Croesus and strikes terror into the hearts of men.

‘You have. Repeatedly, in fact.’ His lips curve up into a half smile. ‘It’s one of your favorite things to call me.’

‘Because it’s true,’ I huff, glaring at him. ‘I’m not your property. You’re not the boss of me. I’m not staying at your house. I’m sorry Ainsley decided to leave, but even if I knew where she was, I wouldn’t tell you. She’s not a kid anymore, Justice.’

‘You don’t know where she is.’

Did the air just get ten degrees cooler or is that just me?

‘She knew you’d try to get it out of me,’ I mumble.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

‘She wasn’t wrong,’ I add.

It doesn’t seem to help.

‘Pack a bag, Milan. You’re staying with me until I find her.’

‘No. I’m staying here. You’re free to leave though. In fact, I’ll walk you out,’ I say, marching toward my bedroom door. I’m not even halfway there before he’s on top of me. ‘Hey! What are you–?’

He slings me over his shoulder like I’m a sack of potatoes or something. And then, because that’s not infuriating enough, he smacks my ass.

My clit pulses as the sharp smack delivers a jolt directly to it.

‘Put me down, Justice!’ I yell, pissed off and turned on as he strides toward the door.

‘You’re staying with me,’ he growls. ‘Now settle down before Travis sees your panties.’

That’s the only warning I get before he flings the door open, carrying me out into the hall. And even though I want to strangle him…I settle down.