Billionaire's Second Chance

She looked furious. “My ‘game’, is giving you some caffeine for energy while you seem to be working hard on whatever big, important thing you’re working on. It’s called being nice; some people do it sometimes without an alternative agenda in mind.”

Oh. Shit. I must have hit the wrong button.

“I did not mean to offend you,” I said, after a few moments. “I’ll take that cup of coffee.”

She walked out without saying a word, and I felt a strange emotion that I couldn’t quite identify. Remorse? That couldn’t be true, why would I feel guilty about questioning her motives? Everyone had ulterior motives. I was doing so many nice things for Aria, and not a single one of them without the intention of fucking her. Am I so horrible to assume she was attempting to do the same for some unspecified intentions?

Yes, yes I was. It was just coffee. For the second time in the last 24 hours, Aria Roberts had unintentionally managed to make me question my cynicism. I was starting to believe that this girl was simply a terrible influence. Another, much smaller part of me was intrigued by the very possibility that I could question my outlook on life. That thing she had said about objectifying women, for instance. It stuck with me. I wasn’t deluded enough to think myself innocent of such behavior, but 23 times in just a few days’ worth of conversation with a single person? That felt like a little too much, even for me. I would have to be very conscious of that around her from now on, especially if I was going to seduce her. It was essential that she believed that it was a good idea.

---

By the time she returned, I had already heard back from the Economics Journal.

“I have good news,” I said as soon as she walked in.

“I’m out of the contract and now you’re just going to loan me the money out of the goodness of your heart?” she asked with a straight face.

Technically, she didn’t have to do anything significant as a part of the deal, so I was surprised by her attitude. I felt a surge of rage begin to bubble up when I made the mistake of catching her eyes. They were shining and there was a slight hint of a dimple on her soft cheeks. She was joking.

“We both know that I don’t have that good of a heart,” I said.

“I think you have a better heart than you think you do,” she shrugged.

Hearing those words made me feel way better than it should have. She thought I was a good person? That wasn’t something I was used to. The best I got from people, as far as positive reactions go, was fearful reverence. People respected what I had done with the company, they were impressed by how successful I had managed to become at a relatively young age. Never, or at least not in a very long time, had somebody actually appreciated my character. Not even me, I realized. After my dad passed away, all my morals began to intertwine together into a deeply gray area, where right or wrong only differed in the dollar value it brought to the company. Or in my personal life, on how easily and frequently it got new women to my bedroom. My dad was the person who always kept me on my toes and insisted on a regular morality check. After he passed on, it almost didn’t seem to mean anything anymore. Who should I have to be a good person for since he was no longer there? Mom wasn’t anything close to the epitome of any virtue; more importantly, she couldn’t care less what kind of a person I was turning into, as long as I showered her with gifts and nice, fat checks.

What Aria had just said really startled me, because the truth of the matter was that my heart had nothing to do with anything I was doing for her; a whole other organ was responsible for my actions. But she knew that. And I had never made any attempts to conceal my true intentions. That’s what surprised me the most; she thought I was a decent person, despite my intentions! Maybe she was just sucking up to me, maybe she just needed something, maybe she was just playing a game. The cynical part of me had all these suspicions, but somehow they didn’t seem to matter in the face of the knowledge that there was at least one person in the planet that didn’t think I was a total and complete douchebag. And that meant a whole lot more to me than it should have. Which made me wonder if what I was supposed to tell her next was a good idea.

“You are getting published,” I said as though I was merely complementing her hair.

She looked confused for a few seconds, and then looked behind her as if to check if I was talking to someone else. Then she looked at me, followed by my computer and I watched in satisfaction as her eyes widened in realization and her whole face turned as bright as the daylight. Her gasp was loud enough to echo throughout the whole office building

, and she probably realized that and covered her mouth.

“How?” It came out as a little squeal.

“I sent your abstract to the Economics Journal.”

“The Economics Journal?” She was practically shouting.

“Yep, it’s published at my alma mater.”

“Of course!” she exclaimed, realizing where I had gone to school. “But, but, would they just like-“

“Not usually,” I said slowly. “But they review anything that comes from me directly and they were blown away by your ideas. And when I say blown away, those were the words used by the editor in his email, which I have forwarded to-”

I cut myself short because she lunged on to me and gave me a very tight hug. I could hear her sniff as she grabbed my body with her tiny little hands. I tried to control myself, but just feeling her smooth skin against my hands, her perfectly perky breasts against my torso, and her soft skirt rub against my crotch was enough to make me forget what the conversation was about, what was happening right now, or even what day of the week it was. All I knew was I wanted to rip her dress up right there and shove my hands into her panties, shove my fingers deep inside her as I kissed her breasts until they were sore. Then I would throw her on the couch and fuck her like she had no idea was possible, deep and fast and I would come inside her sweet-

She jerked apart from me, probably able to feel my excitement through her skirt.

“Okay, that’s all for hugs, I guess,” she said, her voice almost shivering. Wow, was she…

I studied her face; it had turned a very deep shade of red. Her right arm was tugging nervously at the hem of her skirt and she was looking squarely on to the ground. She wanted it too! If there was anything I knew about women, it was the look of desire on their faces, and right now, Aria’s face was nothing if not complete and utter longing. Should I say something? Was now my only chance?

If a simple hug could cause her to react this way, wait until I kissed her; she would melt. I felt a slight disappointment at the thought of the game getting easier, but knowing Aria as much as I had gotten to know her, just because she wanted it didn’t mean she would just give it up. The odds that she had been wanting it all along were always very high; what made her stand out from all the other women was that she resisted, not that she didn’t feel. I knew she felt it, every woman did. Somehow she had managed to convince me through her tough exterior that she didn’t for a little while, I realized, feeling idiotic for ever entertaining doubts. This was definitely going to be much easier than I had been anticipating, but the fact that she just jerked away meant that it would still be a challenge. I simply had to teach her to succumb to her desires. I would show her the things she was capable of feeling and teach her to accept the greatest pleasures of life. I couldn’t wait. For now, however, I had to play it cool.

“I’m sorry about that,” I said, feigning a look of genuine remorse. “But it tends to do that. I can’t really control it.”

She tried speaking a few times, but her lips were visibly trembling. She took a deep breath and tried to conceal it with a cough. Finally, she said, “I don’t know what you are talking about.”