Yours Completely (Billionaires and Brides 1)

I walked up the stairs to the second floor, and banged my hip against a gilded table. I sighed and gazed down the second floor hallway at gilded frames and overly ornate furniture. Everything in this house was designed to proclaim wealth, but from what I had seen of Bastian and Charlotte, neither cared about flaunting their money. They should be living in something full of bamboo furniture and open windows. There was too much finery and not enough warmth for them here.

I turned and found myself standing in front of Bastian's study doors.

I was curious. What did it look like inside? Was it opulent and rich like the walls of the mansion, or warm and homey like the kitchen? I felt like if I could see how he decorated his living space, I would have some insight into him. I knew so little about him, but I wanted to know more with a desperation that surprised me.

I set my empty wine glass on an overly ornate hallway table and listened for any noise in the study. If I heard him inside, I could just knock and perhaps he would let me in. I rather liked the idea of being invited in.

Without thinking, I tried the door handle. It swung open on silent hinges and I stared after it with an open mouth. Standing in the hallway, I heard a loud thud come from inside, as if something heavy had been dropped.

I swallowed hard and justified going inside. What if he had fallen like my dad?

Just past the doors, I could hear the shower running and Bastian cursing at his shampoo bottle. I nearly giggled before catching myself. The wine was making me bold and careless, but it was still funny to hear him swear at the bottle.

The idea of Bastian wet and soapy, and totally naked, made my insides flutter and the space between my legs tighten. A naughty part of me wanted to go and take a peek, just a glimpse, but I pushed it down. I was already someplace I shouldn't be. No need to push it, no matter how much I wanted to see his muscles dripping with soap.

I knew I should leave, but I took a moment and looked around the office. It was a large room, as all the rooms in the mansion were, but it didn't feel overwhelming. Every light was on and the walls were painted a warm butter yellow that made it almost feel like daytime. A large, heavy wooden desk sat in the corner with a computer and a comfortable-looking leather chair. Nothing was antique or gilded in the entire room. Every piece of furniture was expensive only because it was well-made. He had chosen things that utilized function over form.

A big leather couch sat under the wide open window. The curtains billowed in the breeze off the ocean, and I could imagine laying on that couch and reading for hours. Looking closer, I realized that the blanket from this morning was draped on the arm. It had been him.

Smiling, I looked at the pictures on his wall. There was no artwork and for the most part, the walls were bare, but above his desk was a cork board filled with smiling people. Most of them were of him and Charlotte in various places around the world. The Great Wall of China, The Eiffel Tower, the Pyramids, Stonehenge, The Taj Mahal and dozens of others. He smiled in all of them.

In the center was a long picture with a row of men in dark suits all smiling and laughing with a beautiful bride at the end of the line. Looking closer, I recognized the woman as Emma Saunders, the wife of oil baron Jack Saunders. Faces popped out at me from Forbes magazine's most wealthy as I looked down the line. That must have been a crazy wedding.

Other than one small picture of him, Charlotte and a kind looking couple, there were no pictures of family or childhood. Every picture was college aged or above. I even spotted several of him with Leo and another man that must be Gabriel, but nothing that hinted at his life before starting his company.

Moving away from the wall, I saw one last picture. It was on his desk in a simple golden frame that couldn't have cost more than a couple of dollars. It was a picture of him and Charlotte, sitting on a boat. The sun was in his face but he was smiling just like he had the other morning, looking like he might burst into laughter at any moment. I reached out a finger to stroke his face, wishing I could see him like that.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” An angry growl came from behind me. I spun to see Bastian standing in the doorway to the bathroom. He was dripping wet with just a precarious towel wrapped around his waist. He was even more glorious than I had imagined.

That's when I realized the water had stopped.

He stepped forward and into the light of the room. Scars ravaged his body. Long gashes ran across his arms and chest before wrapping around his back to disappear beneath the towel. The scar on his cheek was just part of a larger series of scars covering his body. I could see now why he wore long sleeves and pants all the time.

Rage burned red in his gray-blue eyes. I couldn't look away from his body, not because of the scars, but because of the way his muscles tightened and flexed and how the towel hid almost nothing. Pecs to die for, six pack abs and a strong V that pointed to his towel all had me drooling.

“I... I... heard a thud... and...” I stammered, unable to take my eyes from the towel. The knot was loose and was about to fall apart at any moment.

I took a step back, running into his heavy desk. It hurt enough that I looked up from his towel and into his extremely angry face. He radiated a rage that I didn't know was possible in a human being. He had seemed so calm and in control that I barely recognized him. All thoughts of the towel disappeared at his rage.

“Get out.” His voice was thick with fury and his eyes flashed lightning. “GET OUT!”

I ran.

I didn't stop in the hallway. I didn't stop on the stairs. Even in the foyer, I could hear him cursing. The whole house vibrated with his anger and I ran out to the beach to try and escape it.

Tears stung at my eyes as my feet hit the sand. What had I done? Why didn't I just leave things well enough alone? He had one request of me, not to go in the study, and I had blatantly disregarded it. I was the worst kind of person and he had every right to be furious with me. Hell, I was furious with me.

I ran along the cold, wet sand, letting the full moon light my path. I followed the curve of the cove, up the hill to another beach until I finally came to a rock outcropping that I couldn't get past, at least not in bare feet. There I collapsed into one of the larger rocks, my calves aching and twitching like rubber bands. I gasped for breath, and not just from the running. Falling to my knees, I sobbed into the sand.

It was too much. All of it was just too much. All the aches, the worry, the tension, the hopeless dreams came tumbling down on me. Between my father, Chad's betrayal, the lack of direction in my life, and now the rage in Bastian's eyes, I just lost it. It was all just too much to bare.

I sat and cried into the night. It felt good t

o finally let it all out. I cried until I couldn't breathe and then I just gasped at the air like a fish out of water. Giant sobs racked my body, shuddering cries that ached down through my toes. But it was what I needed.

I wasn't sure how long I cried, but after a while, the tears dried and I stared out at the ocean. I was finally empty. I had held in my emotions for so long that they had overwhelmed me and now I didn't know what to do.

I heard footsteps behind me, but I didn't turn around. I knew who they belonged to. The steps paused and then came closer.