The CEO's Contracted Mistress

Let Her Go

Olivier studied his emails with a grimace and then looked at his old friend. “Soren, not sure what you want me to do?”

“Come on man. It’s my dad.”

“I get it’s your dad. I own banks not oil companies.”

“You own more than just banks.” Soren leaned back in his seat. “My dad wants to retire. After mom’s health scare, he wants time with her before it’s too late. I don’t have the brain power to run his company. God knows he wished I did but I’m a pastry chef, not a tycoon.”

Soren folded his arms and eyed the man he’d known since kindergarten. “I didn’t tell you the best part yet.”

“What?” Olivier didn’t even look up from his emails. “What’s the best part of you trying to coerce me to buy your father’s company?”

“He has a buyer.”

Olivier finally flicked his gaze upwardly, “seriously. If he has a buyer, why the f**k are you bothering me?”

“Because the buyer is Gael Moreno.”

Olivier groaned and leaned back in his leather seat and closed his eyes, tilting his head towards the ceiling.

“Come on man, you hate him as much as we do.”

He sighed. “Can’t even argue with you, my friend. I might even hate him more.”

“He’s been after Dad’s company for forty years. Dad had three different buyers lined up and all three of them backed off because of your grandfather.”

Long fingers pushed through sandy blonde hair with frustration. Soren had played the trump card. He’d been wanting a way to f**k over the old man for years. Perhaps it was time.

He sat up straight and looked at Soren. “What do you know?” As his friend grew visibly excited, he held up his hand, “don’t get too excited. I’m a numbers guy, not an oil and gas guy.”

“But” Soren smirked broadly, “your cousin Sissy is. We both know she should be running Gael’s company when the old fucker finally bites the bullet and he’s made her nothing more than the VP’s admin assistant. She’s brilliant and she’s serving coffee and photocopying documents. Poach her. Hire her to be CEO in dad’s place.”

“You’ve thought about this a long time.”

“It’s all I’ve been thinking of for the last two weeks when dad said he was contemplating selling to the bastard.”

“Give me the file,” he held his hand out for the thumb drive Soren had offered earlier. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Yes!” Soren jumped out of his seat with excitement. “What’s the point of having billionaire friends if I can’t use them to make my dad happy.”

He grinned and shook his head, “I assume you talked this over with my cousin during a bit of serious pillow talk?”

“I’m a southern gentleman Olivier, I’d never kiss and tell.” He laughed lowly as he walked to the door. “But if your auntie asks, my intentions for her daughter are as pure as driven snow.”

He laughed at Soren’s wicked smirk and set the thumb drive on his desk. He was just about to delve back into his emails when his cell phone buzzed, and he looked at the text message. His head of security was calling him down to the basement. It was never a good sign. He was unlikely to get any work done.

He nodded to his admin assistant and told her he was heading to the security offices, and he’d be back shortly.

He was met at the elevators in the basement level of the building by Riggs. “It’s not even nine o’clock. What on earth could you be calling me down for? Did you find the guy skimming my casino in Vegas?”

“Better,” Riggs grinned. “I found Darian.”

Olivier stopped in his tracks. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope and you’re going to s**t bricks when you hear his version of events.” He held up his hand, “and Ollie, before you get your panties twisted, I believe him. I already pulled the information to corroborate what he’s saying. I just want you to hear it from the horse’s mouth. Hear the guy out.” He paused at the door to the interrogation room, “also, he thinks you’re a s*x trafficker and I’m having a hard time convincing him otherwise so don’t be too alarmed at his hatred of you.”

“He thinks I’m a what?”

“s*x trafficker,” Riggs held his gaze seriously. “As in you traffic women.”

“What?” Olivier was incredulous. “Where in the actual f**k, did he get this information?”

“Bernard.” Riggs shook his head, “come on. You need to hear this.”

Olivier walked into the room and looked at the man with the black eye sitting at the interrogation table holding a plastic bottle of water between his hands and glaring at him. Riggs was right. This man hated him with a burning passion. The feeling was mutual. He’d stolen what was his.

“Darian Jones.” Olivier swung the chair opposite the table backwards and straddled it. “You took something that belonged to me.”

“Wrong choice of words,” Riggs whispered in his ear before moving to lean against the wall. “Darian, please tell Olivier about what happened the day you abandoned your job.”

Olivier considered the man looked like he’d rather drink battery acid but as Riggs shifted against the wall the man rolled his eyes and shook his head in a warning. Riggs was a big guy, bigger than Darian. If he wanted him to talk, he’d talk.

“Fine. I was assigned to guard the suite. Not twenty minutes after you left the hotel suite, the girl came out and said she needed to leave. I told her we weren’t leaving, and she said her sister had just died and she needed to go. I asked her if you needed to be called. She said and I quote, ‘why, he can’t bring her back’.”

Olivier was stunned. A sister?

Darian rolled his eyes. “I truthfully thought it was the weirdest thing a girl could say considering her sister had just died but the day got f*****g weirder after that.” He sipped his water. “We get to this care home and the sister is in this room with a white blanket over her but there was still a woman alive in the next bed. The place was so crappy they left a dead person in a room with a live person. The girl pulled the blanket down and then collapsed on the floor. Like full on meltdown. Went from stoic and strong to basket case in less than two minutes. She was a mess for about fifteen minutes. She went into the bathroom in the room and when she came back out, she was back to being an ice princess. She handled the accounts and information with the office at the home without shedding another tear. Then I accompanied her to meet with a funeral director. I listened to her say there was no need for a funeral and asked for cremation services because they had nobody who would show up. She wrote two cheques. One to the funeral director and one to the care home. She asked if we could go for a walk before heading back to the suite I agreed.”

Olivier looked to Riggs who nodded at him indicating this was all corroborated information.

“We walked around the care home. It had a pond, and she didn’t say a word the entire time. Nothing. Eerily silent for a girl who just lost her only relative. Anyway, we circled this pond and she kept looking back to the funeral home. It was f*****g weird to see a care home literally across the street from a funeral home. Like if you’re dying, was it the sight you want to see every day?” Darian muttered as he started picking the paper off the water bottle in his hands, signifying he was still not okay with the events which had transpired. “I guess it’s what you get though when you have to go with the cheapest services right?” He looked at Olivier in disgust, “your so-called girlfriend’s sister was in a shitty hostel-type care home which probably never had the capabilities of keeping her alive and you’re a f*****g billionaire.”

“Continue the story,” Riggs cut him off.

Olivier shifted uncomfortably. None of this he’d even begun to imagine.

“Fine. We get back to the hotel suite and I noted right away there had been a breach to the room. There were two individuals inside. A man and a woman. They introduced themselves as your best friend and your fiancé. The fiancé, the Ice Queen, made several comments about your upcoming wedding and even said it was a good thing you got whatever cold feet you had out of your system. Said the girl looked more used than the ones you usually f****d around with.”

“Name?” Olivier asked coldly.

“Cleo.” Riggs spoke for Darian and met Olivier’s eyes knowingly.

Olivier hissed furiously as he waved his arm, “wrap it up.” Someone was going to f*****g die.

“Bernard Menard was the other person in the room. He had a document in his hand. He said it was a contract for services. It was clear she knew what the papers were.” Darian made a face. “He told the girl she had five days left on her contract and you had agreed the rest of her contract would be completed with him or she’d forfeit all the money she’d made to date.” Darien spoke mockingly at Olivier, clearly uncaring who he was talking to, “now, I get rich guys like to have hookers. Whatever. But trading them and putting them in a position they can’t get paid for the work they’ve done unless they f**k their friends is a whole other level of f****d up. It’s s*x trafficking.”

“Tell him the rest man,” Riggs cut him off, “without shooting your mouth off again or I’ll rip your tongue out.”

“Fine. The girl asked me to grab her bag from the bedroom which I did. I was gone less than a minute but, in those seconds your buddy Bernard managed to put his hands on her, hit her and threaten her. She kicked him in the balls to get him off her and I threw him across the room. I took the girl and got her the f**k out of there. Your fiancé was laughing her head off like the whole thing was hilarious.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want any part of a s*x trafficking ring and pounded sand. I dropped the girl back off at the funeral home like she asked me to. She had a huge bruise on her face, and I was worried for her, but she said she’d be fine. I never saw her again. I went back to LA to bounce at the clubs. I’d rather bounce clubs than be part of that s**t. The only reason I’m back in Houston is my grandmother died yesterday. I’m supposed to be at the funeral home.” He looked to Riggs pointedly.

Olivier shoved the chair back furiously and looked at Riggs. “Are you f*****g kidding me?”

Riggs passed him a packet of documents. “Confirmed the story on the sister. Confirmed too the girl showed up a twice in the same day and the second time at the funeral home, begged to have her sister cremated right away. The funeral director confirmed she asked for her cheque back and paid him in cash double what he had originally charged her for doing it rush. He said she seemed terrified and sat outside in the rain for a long time. She paid the care home with the bulk of the money she pulled from the account. If she left with a quarter of what was in her account, it’s a miracle.”

“Jesus Christ.” Olivier rubbed his hand over his face. He looked back to Darian. “You said she kicked him in the balls?”

“Hard enough he should have been able to spit them out.” Darian looked pleased with the memory.

He looked to Riggs, “Find Bernard. I don’t care if you bring him to me alive or dead, but I want him.” His voice was cold and authoritative. He paused, “Cleo too. I can’t believe the pair of them.” He picked up the chair and whipped it furiously across the room where it bounced off a wall. “She thinks I tried to f*****g traffic her?” he looked back to Darian.

“Yeah, man, he had a contract with names all scratched out and initialed with his and your initials. He took great delight in pointing it out.” He nodded his head vigorously, “if I hadn’t been there to get her out, he would have taken her and raped her. There’s no doubt in my mind. She was terrified. I’m not convinced your fiancé wouldn’t have helped him. She was the coldest thing I ever saw in my life, and I work in LA.”

Olivier sighed, “turn him loose.” He looked to Darian. “Thanks for protecting her and getting her out of there.” He spoke again to Riggs, “make sure he’s paid for the information.”

He moved to the door with Riggs close behind him.

Outside the room Olivier looked at his long-time friend, his heart racing furiously as Riggs pushed the folder of documents into his hand. “I didn’t even know she had a sister. She never once told me she had a sister. Two months together. Two months sleeping in the same bed every f*****g night and she not once told me she had a sister who was dying.”

“Did you tell her you were a billionaire and the reason you kept her in a hotel suite like Rapunzel in a tower was because the paparazzi would have had a field day with you dating a twenty-one-year-old barista?”

“No,” he rubbed his temple. “What a clusterfuck.”

“You think? Somewhere out there in the world is a woman who believes you tried to traffic her. If she ever took her story to the press,” Riggs voice trailed off.

“It’s been almost nine years.”

“Almost nine years but I’m looking at you and seeing the same level of desperation as I did the first night you met her. It was lust at first sight.”

“I should have just married her instead of offering money.” He laughed heartlessly, “a divorce would have been less painful than this s**t. I can’t believe he put his filthy hands on her.”

“At least we know now the real reason he needed the surgery on his balls.”

“Viral infection my ass,” Olivier grinned suddenly. “She got him good.”

“Do you think your grandfather had anything to do with it?”

“I know he had sent Bernard to my hotel to try to get me to take over his company. Bernard was supposed to offer me another lucrative contract offer. He left the contract on my desk in the hotel suite. I think Bernard was digging around and found my contract with Roberta and decided to have some fun at my expense.” Olivier was frustrated.

“But why lie? They could have both said they didn’t see the girl. Instead, they said they caught the pair of them in bed f*****g like rabbits,” he quoted Bernard, “and knowing she was probably your girlfriend he did the right thing and threw them out. Cleo backed up his story. Video showed them leaving together from the hotel but really, he could have just said they hadn’t seen anyone. We would never have questioned it.” Riggs continued, “Look Gael’s a crooked son of a b***h but he would never approve of hitting a woman. He might be misogynistic and a throw-back to Neanderthals and thinks a woman’s place is in the kitchen or making coffee, but he’d never hit a woman. If Bernard hit her, it wasn’t at your grandfather’s instruction.”

“I’ll give you that.” Olivier walked slowly towards the elevator.

“So, what do you want to do about the girl?”

“Nothing,” he gave a sad laugh. “It’s been nearly nine years. She’s probably married with kids and a house with a white picket fence. I’m not going to uproot her life. Now I know she didn’t f**k me over, I’m willing to let her live her life in peace.”

“It’s probably better you don’t go looking for trouble. If she hasn’t gone to the police or the press in nine years with a s*x-trafficking allegation, then let’s not rock the boat and make it come out now.”

“I hate she thinks I did this to her. Bernard is going to pay.”

“You should get your grandmother to put a voodoo curse on him.”

“Don’t even joke about s**t like that,” Olivier grinned. “She’s scary as hell.” He had a thought, “I will say this though. Soren was here a while ago. Gael might not have sent Bernard to slap Roberta around, but he definitely put him in her path. Gael wants to buy Trace’s company.”

“No way,” Riggs threw his head back and laughed as he held the elevator doors open.

“I’m going to take it. I won’t get the girl back, but I’ll make sure Gael suffers for ever putting those two pieces of s**t near her. I swear everything the man touches, turns to shit.”

Riggs slapped the elevator door happily as it closed, and Olivier leaned against the stainless-steel wall as it lifted him back to his offices.

Roberta hadn’t been having an affair with her guard. Bernard had lied. The more he thought about it the more he felt sick. The man had never uttered anything but a half-truth in his life. Why had he believed his story back then? Because it had all been too good to be true, he admitted as he walked back to his office.

He sat back in his chair and opened the folder Riggs had given him. Roberta had a sister who had been sick. He reviewed the documents and noted the date of one of the medical bills in the file was just a couple of days before he had double-downed on his offer to her. She had probably gotten it in the mail the same day he propositioned her. It made sense.

When he’d propositioned her, he’d been impressed she had refused but when he’d made his second offer and she accepted he’d been torn between disappointment she could be bought and relief she was going to be his.

She had a strong sense of morals and in the two months they were together, watching the evening news often had her furious to the point of tears over the atrocities of men. He recalled her sobbing pitifully over an article about a homeless man and a dog living on the streets and the man had to surrender his dog to the shelter because he had to go into the hospital. He was quickly reconciling she did what she did to try to take care of her sister.

He looked at the dates. Ten days before she had left the sister slipped into a coma. They billed her for an email notification of the change in her medical condition. What a shithole.

He closed his eyes as he realized he knew what day it was. He remembered it as if it were yesterday. He’d been working on his laptop, and she was playing on her phone. She had been stretched out on the sofa with her feet up on his lap under his computer and they’d been sitting quietly. He had realized how much he enjoyed just sitting with her, being with her even wordlessly. It wasn’t s*x or lust but just the peace she brought him. He’d realized in the silence he had fallen for her. She’d met his gaze and he’d panicked at his emotions and had shut down. She’d gotten a notification on her phone, and she’d paled and gone to the shower.

He'd followed her to the shower and f****d her mercilessly. It was the one and only time he’d forgotten protection, but she’d felt so damn good, and they were both so damn vulnerable. He had thought perhaps they both had been feeling what they shouldn’t have been feeling but now as he looked at the dates, it was more likely she was simply upset about her sister’s impending death. He’d been a bastard to not notice her emotions for what they were.

Wherever she was, he prayed her life was better than what he’d put her through. He closed the folder and slipped it into the bottom drawer of his desk and locked it. He needed to let go of the misplaced anger toward her and with a silent acknowledgement of what would never be, he turned his attention to the thumb drive on his desk. He might not ever get her back but at least he could make the people who hurt her pay.