The British Billionaire Bachelor, Act Three Page 6

  “It’s Jennifer Adams here,” the voice purred.

  Jennifer Adams? Fuck.

  “Where’s Jarrod?” Lucinda demanded.

  “Like I said, he’s in the shower, and not very happy with you,” the young woman announced. “Tsk, tsk, Lucinda, running out on him like that. Not very smart.”

  Lucinda’s blood was boiling. Jennifer Adams was one of her contemporaries whose star was shining every bit as brightly as her own, and though they’d never met, Jarrod had mentioned running into Jennifer on a number of occasions.

  “Put him on the phone,” Lucinda snapped.

  “I answered his phone because he asked me to. He told me that if you called, I should pick it up and say, screw you, though I’m being polite; he didn’t say screw.”

  “Well, fuck you and fuck him!” Lucinda screamed into the phone.

  Joseph had changed into a sweat suit, found the aspirin, and was about to wander back into the living room when he heard the outburst. Picking up his pace he entered just as Lucinda had begun to march furiously around the room.

  “What happened?” he asked, genuinely concerned. She looked extremely upset, her face was bright red and her fists were clenched.

  “Fucking Jarrod, that’s what happened,” she barked. “Fucking asshole!” and to his shock, she suddenly grabbed a green and white marbled vase sitting on a pedestal and lifted her arm to throw it.

  “DON’T!” he shouted.

  She stared at him for a split second, then threw it violently across the room, landing it against the wall, smashing it completely. Joseph burst across the room and grabbed her around the waist, effortlessly lifting her off the ground.

  “Put me down!” she shrieked, arms and legs flailing.

  Ignoring her outburst he carried her into her bedroom, kicking the door shut with his foot, then sitting on the edge of the bed, threw her across his lap.

  “You may be buzzed, you may be hurt, you may be angry, but you do not destroy other people’s property,” he scolded sternly.

  “FUCK YOU!” she screeched.

  “You really shouldn’t have said that,” he exclaimed, raising his arm.

  The thin silk of her dress was little protection from his spanking hand, and his palm rained slap after slap, landing with gusto, spanking her bottom with force and vigor, and while she kicked and yelled and called him names he’d not heard since his stint in the military, he’d already made up his mind not to stop until he heard the two magic words.

  “Okay,” she finally bawled, “I’m sorry.”

  “That took you long enough,” he remarked, dropping his hand away.

  “You’re so unfair!” she wailed.

  “Unfair? I don’t think so.”

  “Let me up.”

  “Nope, not until we get a few thing straight. You don’t throw anything else in this house,” he declared, landing more smacks across her backside.

  “Okay, okay,” she agreed, wriggling and squirming.

  “Second, no more sarcastic, smart-ass digs at your sister.”

  “That’s just-OW, OW,” she yelped, as his spanking hand cut her off. “Okay, I won’t be mean to her anymore.”

  “Third, you treat the staff here, and waiters at restaurants, everyone, with respect,” he finished, dropping his hand with rapid fire swats to underscore his decree.

  “Stop, please, stop,” she howled, “I’ll behave, I swear.”

  Satisfied, Joseph yanked her up, sitting her next to him.

  “You’ve had that spanking coming for a very long time,” he lectured, “and if you dare to cross me, I will absolutely repeat it, but on your naked ass. Got it?”

  Lucinda, completely mortified, stared at the ground, nodding her head.

  “It’s time you started to rein in that temper, get some impulse control. It’s time to grow up, Lucinda. When you’re with me you behave or your ass gets whacked. Got it?”

  Still not looking at him, again she nodded her head.

  “Now you just sit there and be quiet for a minute,” he ordered, and reaching across to the phone on the nightstand, he pressed the button marked, ‘Butler.’

  “Henry Chambers speaking.”

  “Henry, it’s Joseph.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Might there be a vacuum cleaner somewhere near my suite?”

  “Yes, Sir. I was about to deliver the milk when I heard something break, so I took the liberty of placing the hose outside your door. I will be more than happy to send up one of the staff to clean it up if you desire.”

  “No, no that’s fine, Henry, thank you, we’ll take care of the, uh, accident,” Joseph replied, “and of course we will compensate Mr. Sinclair for the cost of the piece.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Sir.”

  “I insist,” Joseph replied, wondering just what the treasure was that Lucinda had so indiscriminately hurled across the room.

  “I believe it was worth only two pounds, Sir.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Joseph replied, stunned that Simon would have such a worthless vase in his house.

  “May I explain?” Henry asked.

  “Please do,” Joseph replied, completely intrigued.

  “Mr. Sinclair was given to understand the propensity of the young actress to have outbursts that might result in breakage, so the items of value in your rooms have been replaced with worthless bric-a-brac. They were purchased this afternoon, and changed out while you were at dinner.”

  “Ah, I see, that was very forward thinking of him,” Joseph smiled, then realized why the living room had looked different when he had returned.

  “Can I be of any further help, Sir?”

  “No, thank you. I believe I have everything under control.”

  “Very well, Sir. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Henry.”

  Hanging up the phone, he turned and looked at Lucinda. She hadn’t moved, and was sitting absolutely still, staring at her hands.

  “Come along, young lady,” he declared. “You have a mess to clean up.”

  “My butt hurts and my head hurts,” she whined. “I’ll do it in the morning.”

  “Nope,” he declared firmly.

  Pulling her to her feet, he led her back into the living room, and retrieving the long hose and glass of milk from outside the door, placed the milk on a sideboard, and finding the vacuum hole in the wall, attached the hose.

  “The faster you finish, the sooner you can take some aspirin and go to bed,” he announced. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  He walked away, but as he was about to enter the hallway that led to his room, he paused to look over his shoulder; Lucinda was pushing the appliance across the carpet just as he’d instructed. She certainly didn’t look happy about it, and he had no doubt her bottom was on fire.

  Well, I think I’ve made an impression, but I wonder how long it will last. Can’t change a lifetime of behavior with one spanking.

  Moving quickly to his bedroom, he stripped and took a quick shower, washing off the day. As he pulled on a T-shirt and boxers, and donned the thick, terrycloth robe he found hanging on the back of the door, he heard the hum of the vacuum die. Taking a moment to comb his wet hair off his face, he ambled back into the living room, finding it empty, the hose curled up by the door. The area where the vase had broken into a thousand pieces had been thoroughly cleaned, and spying the untouched glass of milk on the sideboard, he picked it up, carried it to Lucinda’s bedroom and knocked softly on her door.

  “Come in,” she called.

  He opened the door, and poking his head around saw she was sitting upright in her bed, her laptop open in front of her.

  “You forgot your milk,” he offered. “Do you want it?”

  “Why are you being so nice to me after being so horrible?” she frowned, her voice filled with angst.

  “I wasn’t being horrible,” Joseph replied, walking to her bedside and sitting down. “I’m just not going to put up with your bullshit, and I w
arned you about that on the plane. You know you had no right to destroy that vase. What if it had been a family heirloom, or a priceless treasure?”

  “That piece of crap, give me a break. Didn’t you notice when we got back from dinner that all the Lalique pieces and crystal vases were gone and that dime store stuff had been put in their place? Christ, I wouldn’t have thrown a Lalique!” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

  “Wait a second,” he said slowly, “if you knew the items had been switched, you weren’t out of control at all. You chose to throw that vase. Were you testing me, Lucinda?”

  Her eyes dropped back to her laptop, and the red blush that crossed her face was all the answer he needed,

  “You really are a piece of work. You deserved every slap I landed on that gorgeous ass of yours, and now you know where we stand, right?”

  She continued to stare at her computer, ignoring his question.

  “I can always spank the answer out of you,” he warned.

  “Fine, yes,” she replied grumpily, “I know where we stand.”

  “I’m going to sleep and you should do the same,” he suggested, “and just so you have something to look forward to, we’re having lunch at The Ivy tomorrow. Many movers and shakers go there. You’ll love it.”

  “What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you?” she asked, finally lifting her eyes and glaring at him.

  “Doesn’t matter to me one way or the other,” he shrugged, “but if you want to get noticed, it’s a good place to start. See you over breakfast.”

  Placing the milk on her bedside table, he stood up and walked slowly from the room, closing the door behind him.

  Lucinda shut down her laptop, placed it on the floor alongside her bed, and switched out the light. She didn’t want the milk, she didn’t want anything, except for the gorgeous ex-marine to walk back into her room and utterly devour her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Darren Hardcastle had discovered the gullibility of others at an early age. Being raised by a single mother who struggled to make ends meet, he would pool resources with his friends to buy candy, and one afternoon he decided he wanted a chocolate bar. The purchase was made, splitting the cost with another boy, and when it came time to break it in half Darren did the honors. One side ended up longer than the other, and the rogue-to-be had a brainstorm; biting off the long end, he held up the equal halves triumphantly.

  “There, now it’s even,” he proclaimed.

  To his great surprise and delight, his friend bought the con. Darren had found his career and had been biting the long end off the candy bar ever since.

  It was his habit to eat breakfast in the conservatory overlooking the lush, landscaped gardens at the back of his house. Having grown up in a small flat with no yard, even on the dreary winter days he enjoyed viewing the fruits of his labor and would eat his breakfast while leisurely reading the morning papers. Being a creature of habit, every day had a schedule, and Wednesday he would work out at a high-end gym in the West End, then lunch at The Ivy, an exclusive restaurant known for its fine food and celebrity clientele.

  As he settled into his chair and sipped his freshly squeezed orange juice, he picked up the first of three tabloids, staring at the headline, and the stunning blonde girl who graced the front page.

  LUCINDA SOMERS TO STAY AT SINCLAIR MANSION

  The story outlined how the young rising star had flown to London in the Sinclair Holdings jet, and was staying with the wealthy business tycoon. Joseph Cardinelli was in the photograph, though not mentioned in the article, but the image of the handsome man was clear. Darren, who considered himself the ultimate playboy, wondered if the dashing figure was her boyfriend or just a handler, and scanning the other papers he found his answer.

  ‘Pictured with Lucinda Somers, her American bodyguard, Joseph Cardinelli.’

  He had a number of high-profile contacts in the show business crowd, and decided to call around and see if the young beauty would be attending a party anywhere. She was one good-looking woman, and if she wasn’t traveling with anyone he’d throw his hat in the ring to show her the sights.

  Having breakfast in the intimate dining room at Simon’s house, Lucinda was a very happy young woman. Her slight hangover was playing second fiddle to her excitement over the press coverage, though she didn’t understand why she had received such attention. In Los Angeles and New York it was expected, but she had no idea her fame had spread across the Atlantic.

  “This is so cool,” she exclaimed between bites of toast. “I’m in every paper.”

  “Does that mean you’re coming to the Ivy?” Joseph grinned. “The paparazzi is camped outside the entrance every day.”

  “Yes, I’m going, but for that reason, and that reason alone. I’m still mad at you,” she huffed.

  “What happened last night was entirely your fault, and you know it,” he scolded.

  His cell phone chimed, and pulling it from his pocket he saw it was Simon.

  “Good morning, Mr. Sinclair.”

  “Good morning, Joseph, are you alone?”

  “I will be in a moment,” he replied, standing up and heading for the hallway. Lucinda didn’t even glance his way, the newspaper accounts of her visit holding her captive.

  “Okay, I can talk now,” Joseph continued, closing the dining room door behind him. “We’re all set for the Ivy, and I’ll be sure to get there at 11:45. We’ll be sitting at the bar when Hardcastle arrives at his usual time.”

  “Remember, let him start the conversation,” Simon reminded him.

  “I will, though I’m sure it will be Lucinda he’ll be talking to,” Joseph replied.

  “No doubt. You won’t have to worry about the seating, it’s all taken care of. You’ll be at the table right next to his. The reporter will interrupt you after your entree and before your dessert. That should give you plenty of time to plant the seeds.”

  “I’ll call you when I can, Mr. Sinclair,” Joseph assured him.

  “Joseph, it’s fine for you to call me Simon.”

  “Thank you,” Joseph replied, “I, uh, appreciate that.”

  “How are things going with Lucinda?”

  Joseph paused, then decided to tell Simon everything that had happened.

  “There was an episode last night. One of your replacement trinkets landed against a wall and I took matters into my own hands, if you get my drift. I believe a lesson was learned, at least I hope so,” Joseph said diplomatically.

  “Indeed?” Simon remarked. “Well done.”

  “Thank you. I must admit, it was very gratifying.”

  “I’m sure. Well, on that happy note, I’ll be eagerly awaiting your call after your lunch.”

  “Speak to you then,” Joseph promised, and clicking off the line, returned to the dining room to finish his breakfast.

  “Everything good?” Belle asked as Simon hung up the phone.

  They had just finished their morning meal, and Belle was sipping the last of her coffee.

  “Appears so,” Simon smiled, thinking about the bratty Lucinda getting her bottom smacked.

  “You have a wicked smile on your face, Simon Sinclair,” she grinned.

  “I think Lucinda may have received her first spanking last night.”

  “You’re kidding. Seriously?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  “It appears so,” Simon nodded.

  “Good for Joseph,” Belle beamed.

  “Speaking of such things,” Simon smiled, walking across and pulling her to her feet, “I have made a decision.”

  “About?”

  “Every Friday night at 8 p.m, I’m going to spank you. It will be as regular as clockwork and nothing will be permitted to interfere.”

  The butterflies sprang to life, and Belle gazed up at him as questions buzzed around her head.

  “Why? What if we’re out somewhere. We have such a-”

  “Stop,” he said firmly. “If we are out I will find a place, even if that place is the back of the car, or bath
room. If you recall, I whipped your bottom in a dressing room once.”

  “Yes, I remember,” she whispered, feeling the familiar heat wash through her.

  “I still have that little stick, and if we have a commitment, you’ll be required to carry it in your handbag and alert me when it’s 7:55.”

  “And the why?”

  “It’s part of the journey I talked about, you and I going further together,” Simon smiled. “More specifically, I have chosen Friday because a hot bottom is an excellent way to begin the weekend, and because all week you’ll be thinking about it, won’t you, Belle?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she breathed, leaning against him.

  “If I put my hand between your legs right now, what will I find?” he murmured.

  “Oh, Simon,” she moaned.

  “Tell me,” he insisted.

  “I’d be…I mean…I’m wet.”

  “Does that also answer your question?” he smiled.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Sit down,” he ordered. “I’m going to lock the elevator.”

  Gratefully dropping back in her chair, she watched him move across the dining room into the foyer, and closing her eyes she squeezed her thighs together, anxious for his return. She thought it was taking a while, until she saw him returning carrying the stick he’d been talking about.

  “Lay on the table,” he said sternly.

  She knew not to question, so quickly moved their plates and the various breakfast dishes out of the way, then heart pounding, carefully crawled across the white tablecloth and settled on her back. Standing over her, Simon ran his fingertips down her body before sliding her dress to her waist, revealing her red lace panties.

  “Pretty,” he mumbled, moving his hand over the front panel before slipping his fingers inside the gusset. “Knees up.”

  Softly moaning, Belle closed her eyes and raised her knees, wriggling against his probing hand.

  “You are wet, very,” he agreed.

  Withdrawing his hand, he picked up a sharp, serrated-edged knife, and carefully slipped it under the delicate material.

  “Stay completely still,” he warned, and a moment later, sliced the knife through the lace, and yanking the fabric away, exposed her glossy, sable fur.